Sunday, a poor nights sleep between bed and sofa and then back to bed, so a late start to the day proper. A croissant and strawberries breakfast again accompanied by coffee. We call our youngest daughter, a Sunday ritual, and find her decorating and planning future home improvements over the coming months. By the time we leave for our first beach walk it is gone 11 o’clock and we need to beat the tide coming in. We walk the full length of the beach and back again, easily breaking the back of 10,000 steps. We return to the gangway as the sea starts to lap up it. A difficult decision followed namely what type of pasty to have for lunch. Having selected we returned to the apartment to feast lazily and to spend the next few hours reading and watching the Wimbledon final. The book I am now engrossed in is Manuel Puig’s Kiss of the Spider Woman. A friend with a genius for picking and sending me book that are right up my street has sent me a preloved copy, which has intriguing notes written in it by a previous owner. I really like that.

By mid afternoon its time for a walk over to the ice cream van to get 99s and return to see the final set of the men’s final at Wimbledon. I shower and return to reading as the heat of the afternoon reaches its peak as it streams through the glass side of the apartment. Tea comes later, a simple fish cake and salad repast before settling down to watch the final episode of a series we have been watching. I’m hoping for a better nights sleep. I realise I have nothing deep and meaningful to share and acknowledge that at the moment things are being an effort, which affects how creative I can be.

Saturday and its the first full day of Holiday! Its sunny, again. I wake early and curl up on the sofa and read The Appeal for hours. My partner joins me and we pop to the shop for a paper and some strawberries so we can breakfast continentally on croissants, strawberries and yoghurt. We both settle down with our books and continue to read. By lunchtime I have finished The Appeal. A book with an intriguing format and an interesting mixture of social dynamics and medico/psychological conditions. It was a fun to read, a bit predictable if you apply the rule of disbelieving what must be true, but entertaining. It got me thinking if I could write one, after all I’ve known and worked with hundreds of murderers and life is always much stranger than fiction. Perhaps when I have done other projects.

We lunch on ham sandwiches and then go for a stroll towards the “haunted house” on the cliff edge at the far end of the resort. We move on to the field overlooking the bay and sit quietly on a bench watching the sea. A gentle stroll back brings us to the surfing shop where my partner buys a new cap. We meander back via a closed bakery back to the apartment and continue to read. I fall asleep and before I know it seven o’clock has rolled round. It seems the men’s doubles at Wimbledon has been on for ever and as I draft this blog they are only into the fourth set. The evening will provide another glorious sunset and time to read or explore TV. The weather forecast suggests more sun tomorrow, it must be a heat wave!

Friday and its Holiday time. Lift off is due to be 11am so there is much to do before we roll. The hog needs feeding, the bird feeders need to be filled and then the car packed and the wine gums secured in place. the wine gums are an essential for me when I drive any distance. At 11:08 we roll off the drive and get underway. Six hours later we arrive at our destination, Westwood Ho! There was a brief sandwich stop but for much of the way we crawled for no apparent reason. I was very glad that the car has air con as the temperature outside ramped up.

We settle in and take a first look at our apartment. We are pleased and the view of the sea is excellent.

My partner and I settle in, stow our stuff and go for a slow walk round what is now familiar territory. I buy non alcohol beer as a holiday treat and then prepare ourselves a pizza having mastered the oven. We retreat to the large sofa and I draft the blog with the women’s football on in the background. I’m tired now and have little energy left so I shall indulge in a beer, some maltezers and then head for an early night and a bit of a read. It looks like the weather may hold.

Thursday 7th July. Its a day of preparation for the start of a holiday tomorrow. Before we can set off to sunny Devon there is a much to do. So I spend my day sorting out yesterdays mound of packaging and recycling it. Then its on to the serious business of choosing a holiday wardrobe and packing. The weather is looking good so the amount of stuff I pack is kept to a smaller amount. I slip in a peanut butter bagel and a coffee to wash the meds down and then continue with the preparations.

By lunchtime holiday organisation is well under way. My partner and I make a list of the food we intend to take with us and the shopping list that goes with it. Having sorted that have lunch and then we take the car to fuel it up and check the tyres before going to Sainsburys to get our supplies. Back home the vittles get stowed and we go about our chores lists. A friend calls me on her journey from seeing her mother and we have the opportunity catch up. I squirrel away my birthday presents and get the hedgehog fed. The guy who keeps out garden tidy turns up and over coffee we discuss what needs doing and the how, when and how much it is going to cost. We do the business and I leave him to get on with the job.

My partner is still packing and I slide into the evening and wonder if I will get to watch the women’s football euro match and indulge in a long and refreshing pre travel bath. So its time to pack the laptop ready for the journey, hopefully I shall be posting tomorrows blog from the seaside as my partner and I just want to have a holiday without either of us becoming ill.

Wednesday 6th July, my birthday! I wake sluggishly and wander down stairs to make a muesli breakfast and down my first coffee of the day. My partner is at work in the office and my eldest daughter is off gathering doctoral data so I settle down and prepare for a zoom meeting. I get myself in front of the laptop and dial in. As they wish me happy birthday I manage to spill my coffee over myself and have to frantically clean up whilst fielding banter about age related accidents, slips, trips an falls! Once I had recovered my equilibrium I engaged fully with the meeting. There is a possible opportunity to be involved with some form of support for the the Ukraine so the future could be interesting and challenging.

Meeting over, I make myself a fried egg roll and do a couple of crosswords before waving my partner off to see her mother. Alone I have some chores to do and am expecting the garden guy to turn up today. Before I can get going a friend rings to sing happy birthday to me and to wish me well. We chat for a while until she returns home. No sooner had I finished the call than my son rings me and I get happy birthday wishes from my grandchildren. As my grandchildren are Swedish I am technically a “Farfar. I chat with my son for a long while. Its been a time since we last had such a chat and before we end the call we agree to another call once return from next weeks holiday. Almost as soon as I finish the call another friend rings with birthday wishes. We talk about holidays and her up coming cruise to the fjords. I’m still waiting for the garden guy to arrive and decide to oil the chair that sits in our front garden. It goes well in the sunshine but just as I finish the sun goes in and it clouds over. On to the next job on my to do list. I feed the hedgehog and put out the ladder that the garden guy will need to do our hedges at the weekend. Finally I think I have things straight so I get the garden camera and identify and retrieve the photos with our hedgehog in them. The camera goes back into the garden as my partner returns. I’m craving something nice so I indulge in a Bettys fat rascal. Very tasty and just what I craved. I am keeping an eye on the Boris saga as his MPs leave his sinking ship like rats. With luck I might get his resignation as a birthday treat. My birthday treats are all to be in the evening. The garden guy did not show, but then I discover he is actually due tomorrow. I had delayed training in anticipation of his arrival but by the time I find he is not coming I am too tired to train. I decide to be kind to myself and give myself a days rest. Tomorrow I shall return to my rower.

The Evening arrives, my eldest daughter returns home and my birthday celebrations begin. I am fed my favourite pasta dish, followed by a Bettys chocolate birthday cake, delicious. I open my cards and then my presents. It is a profusion of goodies from writing paper, books, notebooks and Lush bath goodies. And to my surprise not one but two new ice hockey jerseys from my favourite ice hockey team the Arizona Coyotes. I am indeed blessed.

Its a real pleasure and makes my day. The debris of the celebrations signal it well.

Feasting over I settle in front of the TV and watch watch the England women’s football team beat Austria. This all happening against a background of Boris refusing to go and sacking ministers and Rapha Nadal wining a five set match to get to the semi finals of Wimbledon at the age of 36. Football over I draft the blog before sending messages of thanks to all those kind people who have been generous to me. I shall go to bed now looking forward to making it to 75, healthy as I can be, curious and actively being the poetry coyote.

Monday, start of a new week and it is going to be a mundane day, with little to do than feed, tidy and watch Wimbledon. as it turns out I end up in the Shed writing letters for the morning. My garden appears to be doing quite well without me at the moment. By lunchtime I am written out and nourish myself with soup and Wimbledon. So this is what retired people do. Post lunch I put a load of washing in and get ensnared by Wimbledon again. Every Wimbledon I think it would be nice to learn tennis at the local sports centre and then realise this is my usual summer fantasy and settle back down to a real world and more to the point a real Body. I maybe getting slowly fitter after COVID but it would knacker me walking from one side of a tennis court to the other let alone being able to chase a high speed bouncy sphere around the entire court. I still do have a persistent squash fantasy though, however you do not play squash to get fit, you get fit to play squash, ask Leonard Rossiter!

I have an interesting WhatsApp exchange with a friend before I train. I head for the rower in the garage and set myself up for the session. Half and hour at my usual resistance today, which will stretch my arms and back after yesterdays rest day. It goes okay, not brilliant but a good enough to get me going this week. I have resisted the temptation to go for a big session like an hour or a high resistance. Its the long game I need to play here, especially before going on a weeks break away.

Post session I check my messages and find that my friend has sent me the introductory booklet from her local fatigue clinic. I sit and read it through and it reinforces my take on my training efforts and spoon expenditure in general. It is very much rooted in the Hare and the Tortoise with the tortoise approach being the best in the long run as it avoids a “boom and crash” cycle, which detrimental. There is a model to understand the complexity of fatigue and model of recovery which adopts the tortoise approach.

The issue that jumps out at me is how unhelpful those around people who are suffering from chronic fatigue can be if they do not understand the nature and limitations of the condition. I wonder if I have been guilty of this myself, being a male I think I probably fall foul of thinking its just about pushing through and encouraging others to do the same, which I now vividly understand is really not helpful. The experience of my friend has been enlightening and helped me understand how to manage my own medication induced fatigue at times. It feels like I am fortunate enough to be in the “Building Tolerance” stage. I do note that the model allows for people to slide from one stage to another both upwards and backwards, so perhaps I should not get in front of myself.

I spend my evening watching the incomparable Nadal whoop a Dutchman and then I watch the series end episode of Stranger Things. There cannot be too many series of this left as the actors are getting a bit long in the tooth to be playing teenagers. I prepare fro bed and realise I have failed to perform my bi Monday task of filling my drugs wallets, so I spend a few minutes tiredly refilling one before going off to bed.

Tuesday and a quiet start. Its the usual breakfast followed by the checking of my email and messages. I find I am invited to a book launch by a an old colleague in the Therapeutic Community world. I am hoping to go but it falls on my eldest daughters birthday, life is never simple. Alongside his an email from a group of Therapeutic Community advocates, that I belong to, inviting me to be part of meeting reviewing provision of support to children in the Ukraine. It will be a major discussion of the groups meeting tomorrow to decide who attends and what our approach will be. I settle down to draft the blog to cover yesterday adn start today. Initially I start on the patio but the wi-fi signal fails so I am back to the sofa office. As the morning goes on varies deliveries arrive and I notice get smuggled away. It is my birthday tomorrow so I suspect the squirreling is connected to that, either that or I am sadly delusional. I finish the filling of my drugs wallets that I started

Lunch time arrives and my partner and I go for a walk round the village to stretch our legs and get a paper. Home and we lunch before putting tonight’s meal in the crockpot. Wimbledon beckons as does the rower. Ultimately the rower wins but not until I had watched some tennis and given myself a manicure ready for Fridays holiday. I get myself into the garage and set up for a hard half hour row, level 5, with the aim of getting over the 7000 metre mark. I set off and do well, very well in fact. I am getting to my goal when my buds ring, they have never done that before so I tentatively tap one of them and to my amazement I am talking to my friend. I Am able to hold the conversation and continue to row (sign of fitness) until I het the half hour mark. Goal achieved and good calorie burn as well. My friend and I chat about the Fatigue guide she had sent me and we talk about how difficult it is to maintain good sleep patterns especially with a young family. The call ends as she goes to collect her children from school. I return to the tennis, no upsets and the plucky Brit is of course struggling.

I set about my post training chores that include feeding the hedgehog, getting the washing in and putting out the bins. All completed I am knackered and settle down to watch tennis and draft the blog. My evening will consist of a meal and some random viewing or reading. The mundane nature of my day gives me hope that I might be returning to some sort of controlled routine and life style which I can label as “healthy” or as healthy as my cancer allows me to be. Its that sense of regaining some sort of psychological agency for the future and the ability to get on with projects, interests and relationships.

Sunday and I wake quite early so make drinks to take back to bed and read The Appeal for a while. Eventually I get up and have breakfast with my partner. There is the usual Sunday house tidy to do so I spend a while Hoovering through the house and clearing the kitchen. When it feels that things are straight my partner and I get out and about in the village Heritage Festival. It is fun, mostly. We walk a long way to see the American Army display and then back again to the village centre to see more of the festival. We have walked for a couple of hours and I am beginning to feel uneasy about what constitutes heritage. It is true there is a Tudor group, Morris dancers, Penny Farthings and trades folk . There is a pop up museum of the mining and the sock industries and costumed places to eat. However there is a big military element to this festival, first world war, second world war and Cromwell’s army marching around. There are lots of different zones given over to war and the military.

I watch as a young boy has it explained to him how a hand grenade works and how long the fuse lasts. He also has a go with a handgun and gets taught how to hold to so as to steady his aim. He then gets taught about how a rifle can be adapted to act as a grenade launcher. A small girl gets her photo taken with a tin helmet on and holding a a full size rifle. I’m not sure I am comfortable with this and wonder what unintended, or indeed intended, consequences of this might be.

Tucked away between the first world war camp and the village centre is a quiet display with a static display with no one around, no actors or promoters. People pass by as they go to the more “exciting” displays and events.

It occurs to me that this is a an interesting juxtaposition in terms of heritage and what is seen as positive and celebratory and what is ignored or valued less. Perhaps I am being over analytical or dogmatic but it seems to me that there is a lack of positive, adaptive and creative acknowledgement of the things that make our culture strong, inclusive and reflective of real achievement that is part of my heritage.

Having said that my partner and I go to a tea room and order drinks and a scone. As we sit and refresh ourselves some friends appear and we sit and chat for a while. We agree to contact each other when we return from our break. A pleasant surprise to meet friends socially and to be ale to catch up, almost like the old normal, expect the new normal always contains a COVID review. My partner and I walk home where we shed our footwear from our singing feet and have a drink. I feed the hedgehog and start my evening. I get to drafting the blog and watching Wimbledon while my partner prepares the evening meal. The rest of the evening will see me watching Stranger Things and reading. It is the run down to my birthday and then to going on holiday for a week away. This will entail a lot of life admin and organising. My biggest wish is that this is a holiday where both I and my partner can stay healthy and have a relaxing week. I’m hoping to train well all week till we go.

Saturday the second, my sisters birthday and the Desford Heritage Festival. I wake to a message from my youngest daughter to tell me that her partner has COVID so they won’t be coming to day. Its a real disappointment. She WhatsApp phones and we do some face time. We chat for a while and think about when the next opportunity for a visit will come round. I get a bacon sandwich for breakfast and Amazon delivers a couple of things. One is a cash book that I intend to keep just to se how the cash flow goes during my transition from worker to retiree. The other package is part of our preparation for the coming holiday, its a pair of portable chairs that we intend to take to the beech. Later I do a time trail to put them together, it takes me 30 seconds! I am pleasantly surprised.

My partner and I go to the garden centre and stock up at the butchers and the veg guy. Its very much a get in get on and get out mission. Once home we stow the vittles and prepare to go out to the festival. The post has arrived and there is a letter from a friend north of the border. I settle down to read it with a coffee. I always enjoy her letters as they make me think. This one is no different. It is of course raining as we venture out to the Heritage Festival. The village has been divided in to historical areas so step out of our house into the Walk of Fame, consisting of well known Desfordians. An example is below;

We walk down into the village to see the Spitfire flyover but it gets cancelled due to the weather. Perhaps tomorrow. So we then wander around the various areas taking in the sights and the events. It is strange to wander from one era to another, for example from world war 2 to the Elizabethan era. Anderson shelter to Gloriana!

The whole village is full of characters from all sorts of eras. It is a fabulous display of peoples efforts and interests. The pictures say it all so well.

After a sandwich and look round the pop up museum we make our way back home. I’m tired but know I need to train. My partner and my eldest daughter go back out to the festival and I prepare to go to the garage to train. I deicide that I am going to go beyond the 30 minute mark and set myself for 45 minutes at the lower resistance. I start tentatively but get in to a rhythm after a while. It turns into a reasonable session and has extended me, which is what I need over the coming weeks.

I get to the sofa to record the session and then change into my lazy evening kit, always an ice hockey shirt. From there is dinner, drafting the blog and keeping an eye on a really bad tempered match between Kygios and Tsitsipas. These two really do not like each other. The evening might be new Stranger Things however tomorrows weather forecast is for a dry sunny day so getting out and about in the festival will be the priority. I try to ring my sister to wish her happy birthday but there is no reply, my guess is she is watching Wimbledon.

Friday the 1st of July. Where did June go, all that being ill seems to have gobbled up the month of June. I wake very sluggish and my body is letting me know what it thinks about my resumption of training, I ache, that good kind of “I’m training well ” ache. So I get up tentatively and make myself a muesli breakfast and coffee. My partner and I talk about my birthday present but she is unable to get one delivered from her source so I get into my source and order one for myself. There will be money changing hands at some point when it eventually arrives. A friend calls on her way to Reiki. We chat about family, activities, holidays and the nature of friendship and how that can manifest itself in both good and not so good ways. I say farewell as she arrives at her session. I also get a voice message from another friend who is slightly under the weather. So having had an unexpected lovely time chatting a set about my chores, clearing the kitchen, sorting out the laundry and preparing for the arrival of my youngest daughter and partner tomorrow. Coffee and a first draft of todays blog comes next.

I feed the hedgehog and stow the newly delivered hedgehog food, before my partner and I dash to the village library before it closes at noon to buy programmes for the village heritage weekend. Apparently one programme gets two people admission to the venues. There is an exciting timetable of shows, including the Tiger Moth display the librarian alerted us to.

My partner returns to work in the office and I head to the village shop to get milk and a paper. My friend calls again post Reiki session sounding relaxed and more invigorated. We chat for a while before she returns home to prepare and sip a lemon/honey brew. I get the shopping and then return home to have a lunch of tomato soup whilst watching Wimbledon. I wait for my partner to return from her massage session and then I get myself organised to go out. I load up the old printer and a bag of unrequired tins and drive off to the recycling centre. I dump the printer at the centre and move on to the jewellers, who had rung me earlier, and pick up my repaired gold ring. Its good to get it back despite the repair necessitating the removal of the internal marking. It is now whole and re-polished so I shall remember to take it off every time before I train in future as I am pretty sure that is what caused the damage.

I move on to Sainsburys and leave my bag of unneeded food cans. I never did like Spam and prunes. I look for a cash book as I’ve decided to keep a cash book for a while as I transition from independent practitioner to properly retired person. Sainsburys do not have one so I am forced to order one from Amazon. I get enough cash out of the machine to see me through and drive home intending to train. When I do I find it is later than I thought. My intention to train is over ridden by my fatigue. I become over come with tiredness, I guess am still recovering from the after effects of COVID. I resort to the sofa, drafting the blog, Wimbledon, NCIS and then after tea a bath. My evening is going to be quiet and contain zero cognitive effort.

Thursday and after a disturbed night I get up and revive myself with coffee. I set about the cooking bacon and egg breakfast I promised myself last night. I decided that I was not getting enough protein so decided that I would have a solid protein breakfast for a change from my usual muesli. I really enjoyed the change. Having done that I clear the kitchen, clean the microwave and sort out a present for my sister whose birthday is on Saturday. I read a message from the family that we are in contact with in Shri Lanka. Times are really difficult at the moment. COVID is rife, the economy has crashed and there are still stringent restrictions in place. Prices of everything have rocketed and tourism has just dropped away. The family are struggling to survive and the father is now ill with COVID. Normally he is a fisherman but when he can he takes jobs in construction or anything he can get. Work has run out and things sound as if the family are having a hard time. I send a small amount to them hoping it helps a bit.

I take a few minutes to draft the blog and the retreat to the Shed. Its time to start to prepare the Hotel and Restaurant poem collection. Rather than editing poetry I find myself writing more letters and then feeding the hedgehog. My partner goes off to see her mother telling me as she goes that we have yet another pile of cat vomit on the garden path. Another of those unwanted interruptions in the sooth passage of life. I dutiful clear it away and continue with my day. I take in my washing and discover my new book has arrived. A friend recommended The Appeal by Janice Hallett so I bought it. I spend a few minutes starting to read it and find the format really interesting, in fact I think I am pretty hooked.

I close up the Shed and take a walk over to the post box to send my letters on their way and return to a combination of The Appeal and Wimbledon. Its an addictive combination and I am unable to drag myself away till almost quarter past four when I talk myself into going to the garage to train. I have ideas about doing an hour and upping the resistance level but I listen to my body and dial in 30 minutes at the lower resistance level. However I increase my effort and stroke rate with the result that the half hour is a well spent one. Being able to maintain a faster stroke rate for the whole time is a sign of progress. It means I manage over a 1000 stokes and burn almost 500 calories, that’s more like it.

I return to the sofa to check Wimbledon and record my session. I change into evening relaxation clothes and draft more of the blog before settling into an evening of reading, the Lincoln Lawyer and Lucifer.