Tuesday and it was a long and interrupted night so I wake this morning knowing my day is going to be slow. I make a treat of a bacon sandwich for breakfast along with my morning meds. I still cannot taste anything properly, which is a drag. I check my messages and emails and then settle down to read Dante’s Divine Comedy. And that’s what I do for the rest of the day until mid afternoon. I finally reach the end of the epic poem with all the insights of Heaven revealed. Its a strange read, very well translated by Clive James but the references to people and myths are very 13th century as is the philosophy content. So I have time for soup and a bagel before I start to watch the winter Olympics ice hockey.

Later in the afternoon I get a email purportedly from a friend asking me to buy an Amazon gift card. I think I am being scammed. My partner is still recovering from norovirus and by early evening the doctor has promised a visit in the next six hours, so I ease into the evening by drafting the blog and thinking about what I shall eat this evening while watching a football match. Today saw the Brits blow all their chances of Olympic medals so as a nation we are keeping up the image of a decidedly non winter sports nation.

It is being a difficult time so my efforts at writing a sensible blog are somewhat constrained. Its difficult to find the energy at the moment to be creative and to be objective about what is going on. I need to find energy from somewhere. At this time it feels that all I can do is conserve my energy.

Monday arrives and I wake up once again on my own as my partner is still recovering from norovirus. I check my mail and messages and then get up to make a simple breakfast, take my morning meds and put my washing in. With the kitchen cleared I settle down to read and watch more winter Olympics. The days viewing can be summed up by “the Brits blew it”, no medals, no wins, no nothing. As I watch the Brits fail and some ice hockey I continue to read Dante’s Divine Comedy. I am onto the last section, Heaven, which I am afraid to say is turning out to be as boring as I thought it might be. The usual Free Will catch 22 and loads of traditional thirteen century history and myth. The usual Man fucked it up but if you do as your told you can win the happy jackpot.

By mid afternoon I am ready for fresh pasta after I have filled the bird feeders and topped up the squirrel feeder. I’ve also opened the covered raised beds and the mini green house, just to air them out a bit and hope the pots dry out a little. Later I close them up for the night. With my washing dry and folded I slide into the evening and more TV sport, reading and drafting a short blog for the day. All day I nibble at things and try to drink fluids but my loss of taste due to chemo makes this a chore. This again turns into a resting day in which I try to keep the place organised and a good environment for everyone to recover in. It is maintenance at the moment and a marking time to allow everyone to get better. Its a slow process so its a case of keeping things simple. Tomorrow hopefully sees things get a bit better, slowly does it.

Sunday and I have slept quite well. From the off I know I have lost my sense of taste and spend time reading Dante’s Divine Comedy before getting up. I manage to get to the third book, Heaven, so I am intrigued to see what Dante’s idea of Heaven is. I get up and make my partner toast and tea and see how her recover from the norovirus is going. With my partner settled I make myself toast and take my morning meds. Having eaten and cleared the kitchen I watch the Winter Olympics, knockout snow board sprinting and women’s down hill. Both full of falls and close finishes. So I spend my morning engrossed in sport with only the odd spot of reading and message making to keep me occupied. By lunch time I am Olympic’d out and swap to football as I consume my lunchtime tuna pasta and a Red Bull.

I am waiting patiently for some things I ordered from Amazon, but my heart sinks when I see that they are delayed and that Evri are the delivery service being used. Evri are useless, they are always late and loose stuff not to mention their driver/ delivery folk are the one group of people who seem incapable of getting through our front gates and if they do are not fit enough to get to the front porch and just leave stuff by the bins. In a word: Useless.

This needs to be the last day of lazing around, there are things to do. Once Tesco deliver the family order this evening there is nothing else to do but get on with life. It is ages since I wrote a letter so I need to get back to that and open up the writing Shed. Time also to start some exercise, preferably swimming. Of course there is Dante to finish and new poems to find. I am awaiting my personal Spring, which seems to be lagging slightly behind my garden. For now I draft the blog and go to full the bird and squirrel feeders before seeing what the evening brings alongside the Tesco order.

Friday and its Cycle 3 day of the Chemo Rechallenge. I get up early and take my morning meds including pre chemo steroids. All I can manage is buttered toast and soem hot water. I settle down to read more of Dante’s Divine Comedy and during the morning I read my way from Hell to Purgatory as the narrator and his guide Virgil wade through the the various levels of punishment and torture as they are imagined by Dante. At lunch time my partner and I eat beans on toast as I watch another winter Olympics ice hockey game. It is soon time to load up my chemo survival bag and get ready to Uber to the hospital.

I choose an ice hockey jersey to wear to Chemo as it offers warmth and access to my upper arms for the blood pressure measurements. The Uber arrives quickly and drops us off at the hospital with plenty of time to walk through the hospital to the cancer unit. I hand in my “dance card” to the receptionist and my partner and I go to the café to load up with drinks and chocolate to see us through what I know will be a longer session. We find a couple of chairs in the waiting room and settle in, me to reading more Dante and my partner to read and continue knitting my new jumper. A nurse appears, never a good sign when things are quiet and announces they are running an hour behind, which instantly makes my pre-emptive piss I’ve just had redundant. Back to Purgatory and the waiting. I finally get called at about quarter past four and find myself in chair 18 again. The team are short staffed and it takes time to get round to me and my initial blood pressure taking. Eventually the nurse appears to put my cannula in.

Before I can get going on the chemo I have to have pre chemo antihistamine and steroid injections via the cannula to stop me having another allergic reaction like last time. With the injections in there is to be a thirty minute wait before the chemo can start. Of course I read and wait. With the thirty minutes up the nurse returns and hooks up my bag of Yew tree gloop and gets me started on my chemo proper.

So I settle back to being chemo’d and reading. And so it goes for an hour until my machine beeps and calls the nurse to give me my last six minutes of saline. The session has been long and I have packed my survival bag away not having touched the can of Coke or any chocolate. Mostly from fear of needing a piss over this long session. A new nurse takes out my cannula, attached a fluffy cloud to the back of my hand and pissed off. I assumed that was it for me so got myself together and headed to the toilet for a well earned piss. My partner and I walk over to the nearby hotel and I order an Uber and by luck one is there already having just dropped off a punter to the hotel. The adjacent rugby ground is already open for the evening match.

On getting home we eat risotto for tea and slip into the evening of favourite TV, however my partner suddenly gets an attack of diarrhoea and it leads to vomiting as well, clearly she has gone down with something like norovirus. So a difficult night starts for my partner, all I can do is provide fresh water, warm cushions and encouragement. I do get an early Tesco delivery booked in so we can deal with shopping over the weekend. So it is a fitful night as I listen out for my partner as she copes through the night.

Saturday and I am up to see how my partner is. Dioralyte is the first thing to do and then I fix my breakfast so I can take my meds and post chemo steroids. There is time to watch some Winter Olympics and our mixed curling team continue to win. I clear the kitchen and then start to draft the blog while watching firstly the men’s down hill and then a midday football match. Its a day that leads onto two international rugby matches, with brief breaks for reading and eating. I shall not be going to the theatre tonight while my partner is ill so hopefully my eldest daughter can find someone to go with.

By the end of the day my brother in law and one of my nieces went to the theatre in I and my partners place so the tickets did not go to waste. To counter my loss of taste due to chemo I order Pirri Pirri chicken and watch a terrible film before the football highlights. In a final burst if energy I clear the kitchen and then make changes to the Tesco order for tomorrow. I take my night meds and the last of the chemo steroids and tidy up the draft blog before checking on my partner who is still recovering from her norovirus attack, and taking myself to bed. Tomorrow it will be time to take stock and see try to keep the resting and recovery going on.

Thursday and I wake very late, this is not good as today I start my pre chemo additional steroids. Its midday before I get to eat and take my medications. I feel less than well and all I can do is do my routine tasks. I find the energy to settle my out standing debts and begin to make plans for my next collection of poetry. My publishers are beginning to think about an audiobook and the editing of my next collection, which I am looking to publish at the end of my chemo rechallenge in mid July providing all goes well.

By mid afternoon it is becoming clear that I am not going to make Swan Lake in the evening, I am fatigued. In a last ditch attempt to rouse myself I have a shower, which is good but I am still not up to the ballet tonight. I watch an ice hockey match and have tea. I wave my partner and eldest daughter off to the ballet and I settle down to draft a brief blog before watching TV. Tomorrow is tricky, I must get up early to have my pre chemo meds as quickly as possible and then get ready for the chemo session in the afternoon. This is not a good feeling but I am hoping that after all the activity this week I will get the weekend and the following week to rest and recover. If all goes to plan I will start some exercise again, this is the most crucial thing for me at the moment.

Wednesday the 4th of February and it oncology review day. My partner goes to see her mother after bringing me a hot water and leaves me to get up, shower, have breakfast and settle down to await my phone call, expected anytime between 10:45 and 13:45. Only the NHS could give themselves a three hour slot and think that it is reasonable. Its the price I pay for not insisting that I have a face to face appointment. So after toast and orange juice I settle down on my end of the sofa, now illuminated by my new reading lamp, to read Dante’s Divine Comedy. So I spend my morning sinking down the pits of hell meeting the sinners of the world and witnessing the various punishments that Dante could think up.

I am still reading Dante when my partner returns home and makes me beans on toast for lunch. I am still ploughing my way through hell at 3 o’clock when I finally get a call from the oncologist. I go through my list of things, blood results good, the PSA has stopped rising, my haematuria has not shown up since 10th January, and I am still vertical. I ask if its normal to loose my sense of taste and I am assured that it is but I am advised that fizzy drinks sometimes does the trick, including lager. “Including lager” was a bit of a surprise but I now have medical grounds for giving it a go. I wonder if Guinness is good. The outcome is that I am good to go for chemo on Friday but they will give me an injection pre chemo to make sure I do not have an allergic reaction again. Result! Post call I start to draft the blog. In doing so I discover that in my tired state last night I did not post the blog I wrote yesterday, I take this as a warning sign to pay attention to my fatigue levels and to get myself to bed earlier of a night.

By 4 o’clock I am faced with the fact that I’ve done bugger all except read and wait for a telephone call so I head for the garden and go through my rituals of filling the bird feeders and perusing the flower beds to see what is coming up and what needs to be done. Its almost time to be blood and bone spreading to feed the beds and to root out some of the self sown flowering raspberries that are galloping about all over the garden. I note I am feeling better today. I still have a sore lump in my midriff from Mondays 28 day injection but I know that will ease over the next couple of days. I am hoping I am up to speed for this Saturday when I have a theatre treat to attend and then I have a week to start to do some exercise before we have visitors at the weekend. It feels like there is a way forward with good things in it.

This is a tricky time, the six nations rugby starts tomorrow as do the Winter Olympics including ice hockey, I predict being ensnared by curling.

Tuesday and I finally surface after an appalling night. I shivered and trembled nearly all night as a result of my body responding to my 28 day injection. For some bizarre reason it is always worse when the injection is in the right side. Its difficult to explain but after a few hours I become like a junkie withdrawing. There is nothing that touches it, I just have to try and keep warm and sleep it off. Last night I thrashed around so much my partner escaped to the spare bed to get some sleep.

When I finally surfaced my partner brought me a hot water before going off to the gym. When I get up I feel exhausted already, which I attribute to the thrashing around in the night and my body trying to keep itself warm while fighting off the 28 day injection. I make myself chicken soup and take my morning meds. It is only then that I think about my blood results. Of course I divert myself by first buying a reading lamp to go next to me at my end of the sofa so that I can read in comfort in future. I am about to embark on Dante’s Divine Comedy, Clive James translation so I need a decent light to read by. I find one that I think will sit neatly next to me on the end of my sofa and illuminate me sufficiently. I am amazed that I can order the lamp and it, allegedly, be delivered by 10pm the same day. That’s the wonder of Amazon, which my credit card statement bears witness to.

I finally get to open my blood test results. Overall I am pleased, the things that need to come down are coming down and the things that need to go up, are. I knew it would be slow progress if progress was to be made and so it seems to be turning out that way. The critical one is the PSA score which has decreased by 0.3. It does not sound much but it is crucially in the right direction, down.

Obviously they are not perfect but then given my condition they cannot be, but they are moving in the right direction. At this stage of the game I have to take what positives I get and celebrate them. There is an element of backing myself in all this. With out the belief that I have the capability to overcome the hurdles I would just flounder so I hold onto my belief that I can succeed and keep a positive mind set even when things appear to be tough. My eldest daughter bought me a key ring emblazoned with the following, that I think sums up the attitude I carry into all this.

With my bloods caste up in the usual table I settle into my end of the sofa and draft the blog. A friend rings me on her way to having a massage and we chat for a while, catching up on family news and seeing how each other is doing. I enjoy the conversation and the contact it helps me stay engaged with the wider world. The afternoon stretches out before me as I pick up Dante’s Divine Comedy to read, moving my knitted rat book mark, a Christmas present.

So the afternoon passes and I slide into the evening and the final episodes of Bergerac. It is to be an early night, meds and beds as I need to think about what I am going to say in my oncology review tomorrow. There is nothing in the bloods to stop me going for Cycle 3, the critical bit is whether my allergic reaction to cycle 2 will be seen as an impediment. I am thinking not as I managed to have cycle 2 and seemed to have responded relatively well to it. Onwards has to be the call.

Monday and I am up early and having breakfast and morning meds all before 8 o’clock. Today is Jab Monday and today I have added B12 and hospital bloods to be taken. Clutching my injection and my blood form I make my way to the GP surgery and book myself in. I do not have long to wait before my regular nurse calls me in for my 28 day jab. The nurse who usually takes my bloods is having trouble with the computer system so my 28 day jab nurse is going to do my bloods as well. The 28 day jab goes well, as does the B12 jab in my left arm, with that done I prepare for the bloods, baring my left arm ready. The needle goes in cleanly and the first vial fills quickly and easily but my vein refuses to be so helpful on the second vial. It takes some fist clenching and needle wiggling to get enough into the second vial for it to be a viable sample. With everything done I make a note to book my next 28 day jab as the nurse rotas are not up today.

I walk to the shop and buy a paper and some chocolate before walking home. Once in I settle down with a red bull and the days crosswords. I am on form and soon rattle through them. The rest of the household emerge and soon I am accompanying my partner in the front garden as she plants the new Broom plants. My eldest daughter invites us to join her for lunch at Pesto’s down the road. It’s a nice surprise so she books it for 13:30 but I subsequently have to change it to give us more time before the Tesco delivery is due. With the arrangements under way I take the opportunity to draft the blog.

We arrive at Pesto’ s to find it almost empty. Once seated we go through the ritual of ordering drinks, and to my surprise my mouth says “a small glass of Merlot”, not what I expected but clearly part of me has thought “fuck it why not”, so I did. I am quite sad really because I already know I am going to order meat balls, Arancini and bruschetta followed by Affogato. It all goes to plan and is delicious. There is time to chat and catch up before its time to go and wait for the Tesco delivery late in the afternoon. This too goes to plan and before long the household is siting in the lounge, reading, doing crosswords, drafting the blog and surfing the internet. My internet find was that the huge second hand book barn near me takes Book Tokens! I’ve done a deal with my eldest daughter who wants money for books off of Amazon so I have her Book Token now to go and spend as I will at the book barn.

My 28 day jab is kicking in and I am beginning to feel the chills, which will no doubt lead to feeling on the shaky side. From now until probably Wednesday morning I am likely to feel below par and sore. I shall rest and idle the evening away and see if my blood results come through at a reasonable time. Its all about the PSA level mostly. Last time it held steady at 10, my hope is to see a reduction. Time will tell but in the meantime I have to be calm and not get ahead of myself. Honne is my watch word.

Saturday and I wake up feeling quite good and get up for my meds and a plain breakfast. As I am going to lunch with friends I take my time getting ready but find time to paint some red dots on the front flowerbed where I want the garden guy to plant the new Broom plants that we bought during the week. At noon I set off in Elsie (car) and found myself being taken a new and more countrified route than I was expecting. After about forty five minutes I arrived at the restaurant located at a waterside venue complete with boats and boat yard.

A couple of my friends were already there so we sat and chatted till everyone else arrived before going into the restaurant and starting the meal proper. There were six of us and we had all worked together at a particular prison therapeutic community, although some of us had worked together previously at another prison therapeutic community or psychology department. We all know each others histories in detail and where each of us are, so the conversations are pretty focussed and open. Part the way through we faced timed the other member of the group. He was in the sunshine of Bermuda where he has been working for several years. We were excited to learn that he is visiting England in April of this year, so we will of course meet up for a meal all together when he is here. Because I still have trouble tasting things I went for the spicy chicken curry, which in fairness I could taste, followed by a battered Mars bar and ice cream. Apparently the restaurant tried them for Burns night and they went down so well they have kept them on the menu. It was an experience, but I am not sure if the fad will last, its a strange sugar and fat combination. Where will it end, deep fried crème eggs?

I received some belated Christmas gifts, which were lovely, but highlighted how inattentive I had been over Christmas. I think starting chemo rechallenge on Boxing Day probably did not help. I find at the moment I think from day to day with the only longer term things that get attended to are invariably related to cancer treatment. It means that things like belated Christmas presents get lost altogether. Any way the meal progressed and eventually two of the group who have long drives to get to the meal had to leave and a third was due to attend a seventh birthday party some distance away. After some more chat and a coffee I paid my bill and drove home using the country route my Satnav chose for me.

My evening was quiet and punctuated by pizza and TV until I finally watched the football results, took my meds and went to bed. I was tired but in a good way. I enjoy seeing my friends but the effort required around that can leave me fatigued, but the effort is always worth it.

Sunday and I wake to my partner being up and readying herself to go and meet a friend for coffee at the gym. Of course I get up, drink my hot water and then move the car so that my partner can get going. With her gone I have breakfast and my meds and then set to to clear a few things away. There is a broken coffee cup to dispose of and the things that have fallen down the back of the kitchen draws to retrieve. I set to work on tidying the outside store cupboard that doubles as a cleaning cupboard and wine cellar. Since I do not drink and my partner rarely has the odd glass of wine or a bandy we seem to have a accumulated a healthy wine stock. Some of it came from my sisters expensive collection and the rest we have accrued via Christmas presents and dinner guests. By far the most brew we have is Prosecco, which probably says something about us and our guests. Any way I rearranged it and then organised the lower areas to accommodate the collection of vases that had clogged up the space under the sink. With that done I turn my attention to clearing the main sink of debris and ensuring that the drain was clear. While the Mr Muscle drain clearer gets to work I start to draft the blog and think about going to the shop to get a loaf and other essentials like chocolate. I am becoming chocolate resistant, as I resent paying more and more for less and less chocolate. I know the price of Cocoa has risen dramatically over recent months but I resent paying for less and less chocolate content in smaller and smaller bars. Crème eggs being my favourite grump, and I have already spotted Easter eggs that are a pail imitation of their former selves. So finding confectionary that is satisfying is becoming more difficult, however sometimes Tesco do an offer and I am able to indulge for a week. My drifts on with Dante, TV and eventually night meds. Tomorrow is 28 day injection day and hospital bloods day, so I have a testing week in front of me.

Friday and for the first time in ages I wake up in my normal place. It seems the households colds and ailments are almost over so we can stop avoiding each other in our efforts to stay healthy. My partner makes breakfast for everyone and after taking my meds I head for the shower. Just putting in a grab rail in the shower has made life so much easier as I hop with confidence into the bath to have my shower. Smelling sweet and feeling refreshed I drive my partner and I to the gym, where my partner goes off to do her Aqua class and I settle down to play with my laptop, check my messages and tuck into a bacon roll and Americano

At about two o’clock my partner returns and we pop next door to the beauty salon to have our nails done. My nails are suffering from the chemo and are developing black lines and the nails themselves are a bit fragile. The young woman doing my nails pays special attention to my nails and also gives me a hand massage to loosen up my hands. At the end my hands feel reinvigorated and my finger nails feel much better. My partner is having both hands and feet done so I book the next appointment and pay the bill for both of us. On returning to the gym lounge I find I have poems bubbling about so sit and write for a while. They are, what I call, catch up poems, which summarise the ordinary of where I am. I find it useful sometimes just to take stock. Getting stuff out of my head and onto paper seems to help in some way.

494
It’s been fourteen days	
since I crashed in chemo.
At last I can taste again,
food is real and not flannel,
my digestion has settled
and at times I have energy.
I have a weekend,
Lunch with friends
but then its Monday.
Injections, bloods, soreness
and the wait for results
before a Wednesday review
and a Friday poisoning.
Trying not to let it take over
Feels like juggling ferrets.
This is te logistics of survival
And the price of extra time
to keep on making meaning
of all this “stuff”.

								494 30-01-2026

495
Today was Tony’s funeral.
I did not go.
I chose not to watch
the internet stream. 
Instead I remembered 
him reading improvised poetry
and the immortal line,
“The queen mothers knickers.”
I recall his anger and dismay
at being told he could not
hug a child in distress.
He seemed always to be building
new things in Africa
and championing the have not’s. 
But I always return to 
“the queen mothers knickers”
and Tony’s magnificent 
Master of Ceremony’s 
Voice.

						495 30-01-2026

My partner joins me and after getting comfortable I drove us home. I make a start on the family blog while my partner catches up with her mother and starts the tea. My eldest daughter is preparing to send her PhD files off for submission. Its a Friday evening, no football, no rugby only Death in Paradise to look forward to. It was traumatic last night to find that we had watched all the available Brokenwood Mysteries and had t move onto the new Bergerac series, not impressed so far, but with Zoe Wanamaker and Paul Glenister in it, it should pick up. For me its all about an early night as tomorrow I get to have lunch with a group of old colleagues and friends from my prison and therapeutic Community days.