Sunday and I get up early after a disturbed night. I shower and make coffee. On the patio I sip coffee and endeavour to write poems for a competition that closes soon. The theme that is set is Nature. I toil over three options. The experience of trying to write poetry to order is frustrating, not to mention hard work and in no way feels natural. In the end I stop the effort and dash off my frustration.

NATURE

Fuck you nature
You gave me cancer
And now you want poems.
Fuck you.

Just as I pen my lines of frustration I get a call from a friend and we are able to chat at length to catch up with how we are and what lays before us in the immediate future. Its been a while since we were able to chat so it was a good call at just the right time. I put away my poetry papers and make some toast. My partner and I accompanied by our eldest daughter venture out to see more of the village scarecrow festival. We spend a couple of hours wandering the village collecting pictures of the offerings. Below are a few of my favourites from the venture.

After a quick lunch at the church hall, very village, we continue on our viewing way. After a while I can take no more, I’ve run out of energy and feel uncomfortable. Back home I change and find I have blood in my urine again. I hydrate a lot and settle down to read The Moomins and the Great Flood, the very first Moomin book. So now I have read the original nine books by Tove Jansson. Time to move on to something new. I check the garden camera to see if the hedgehog has been around. I am concerned as on the last two days none of the food I have put out has been eaten. There are pictures of the hedgehog up until three days ago. It reinforces my concern, so I put the camera back and check the hog house and to my relief find the food has gone. I replenish the meat dish and the water. Tomorrow I will check the camera again. The evening has a meal in it and a new detective series before the football during which I draft the blog. Tomorrow is a bank holiday, perhaps I will get a lay in.

Saturday and its scarecrow festival in the village, but not before I unpack from holiday and get my washing in and hung out on the line. My partner and eldest go and have a first look around the village while I do other things, like read an article in the September edition of The Psychologist with the catchy tittle of “The medical model has presided over four decades of flat-lining outcomes”. I recommend it to anyone who has tinkered with the idea that life hurts sometimes and that it is neither a cause of or manifestation of “an index of internal dysfunction”. Psychiatric outcomes have got no better since the 1980s despite billions being spent on new drug development, so something is wrong somewhere, I wonder if its the medical model where everything can be treated by drugs. I also order the first Moomin book, The Moomins and the Great Flood. Bizarrely it was published in England way after the other books were, so the initial book was not included in the Puffin set I bought. It arrives tomorrow and I will be able to complete my reading. There is a brief lunch break and then we all go off to look at the festival. So what follows is a brief selection of what was in offer which included an owl display. I should explain that the scarecrow festival had the theme of “events during the Queen’s reign”. The owls were just being themselves.

There are over a hundred scarecrows to be viewed so doubtless I will be out tomorrow afternoon viewing the others in the further flung reaches of the village. To date my favourite is;

After an ice cream and more wandering I return home and settle down for the evening. I realise that I failed to take my meds this morning and wash them down with my reviving coffee. The evening starts by drafting the blog and then changing into lounging attire in preparation for whatever comes between now and Match of the Day.

Friday, journey home day. It starts at 7 o’clock with coffee and breakfast. There is then last minute packing, loading the car and dumping the trash. We set out at 8:30 and arrive back in Leicester 7.5 hours later. There was constant hold ups and long stretches of crawling traffic. It should have taken 4 hours at most. Once home its all about unpacking and settling in. No one can face cooking so we have take away and settle down to a quiet, brainless evening. There is post, most is recycling but there is a letter from a friend and a farewell re-retirement present and card from my old work team. Its a spiffing present of an ice hockey jersey from my favourite team. I shall be wearing it and might gate crash the teams Thursday meeting to say thank you. I feed the hog, draft the blog, take my meds and head for bed. Its been a day of labour and I am now without any energy, sleep is all.

Thursday and I am up early as I can not sleep. I make a coffee and curl up on the sofa. As usual I check my emails and messages. Amongst them is an invitation to do a presentation on leadership for an open forum day in October. I am flattered and begin to think about it. Do I actually have anything to say? Will the trains run on the day? I will clearly need to think about it. I make more drinks and go back to bed. My partner and I talk tactics about the journey back tomorrow and eventually get up for breakfast. The sun shines and as a consequence the beach fills up rapidly with beach lovers and surfer camps.

My partner and I go for a walk convinced that the market is on Tuesday and Wednesdays, indeed the notice at the end of the beach road doth proclaim it thus. We walk to the market field and are dismayed to read the large sign that says “Market Tuesday and Wednesday.” Interpretation is not worth the effort. We go to the convenience store and buy rolls, butter and indulgent clotted cream fudge.

Returning to our apartment we unload and go and sit on loungers over looking the beach. Both of us read from our Kindles. I re read The Diary of a Killer Cat, which always makes me laugh and reminds me of times when I have read it previously. I move onto Sandi Toksvig’s Between the Stops and sit quietly reading in the sun with the beach in front of me.

We break for a ham roll lunch and more reading until my partner suggests we go pitch our wind break on the sand as we have been in the sun too long. We pack up and equip ourselves in the apartment for our expedition. Down on the beach we pick our spot and deftly begin to erect the wind shelter. It goes up as it should but we soon discover that the sun shines straight into it so we turn it around. The wind blows in off the sea and our little shelter is no match for it. We sit huddled in it reading and nibbling fudge until we admit defeat, we are failed sand nomads. We pack up and retreat to the apartment, where I knackeredly flop on the sofa until recovered enough to start to draft the blog.

Its early evening and there is packing to be done and preparation for tomorrows return journey. Its a prosaic decision to go for pizza from the van at the top of the beach path this evening. The week has flown by and Croyde beach and village has been a good discovery. Weighed in the scales against Westwood Ho! it does not quite tip the balance in its favour. It would be good for a big family holiday if people wanted to camp, caravan or get a lodge and were into beach life, but for us as a couple an apartment in Westwood Ho! shades it especially if we were considering a two week break. So in the morning we leave and will probably donate our drift wood collection to the apartment.

Wednesday and I pray the bin went out and the hog got fed. An early coffee and a stare out of a window at the sea. Nothing comes to me apart from one or two bland thoughts. I retreat back to bed thinking I’ll give it another go. I read Tales From Moominvalley to the end. I have read all I have, there is one more Moomin book to be hunted down and read and that will be it. I finally get up again and my partner and I have a late breakfast.

I shower. Its always an adventure using a new shower for the first time. Its like meeting a dog for the first time you never know whether it is going to sniff you pleasantly and become your best friend or sink its teeth into for any old reason that comes into its brain. This shower looked pre-set, bite or sniff I wonder. As it turns out this is a very polite and friendly shower and provides me with warm and caressing water as opposed to a manic jet stream of geyser hot steam. Once pampered and sprayed with scent my partner and I go shopping for tonight’s tea. There in the adjacent camp site convenience store we find all we need , plus chocolate of course. There follows a period of lazing on seats outside while we watch the crows and the beach life.

We potter about wondering if it is really going to rain or not and in the end we have a late lunch as it begins to rain. Needless to say as soon as we are inside it stops. This is after all is England. I set to work and investigate my sons Amazon wish list as his birthday is coming up. There is an item that looks just right so I go to Amazon and pop it into my basket. I go to check out and as soon as I indicate that it is to be delivered to Sweden an extra £40 is slapped on as prospective duty. That is at least 25% of the cost price. That’s what Brexit has done for us, so thank you all you dumb fuckers who voted to come out of a relationship with our nearest trading neighbours. I contact my son and tell him the score. He checks that he can order it in Sweden for the list price, so that’s what will happen and I will move the money to him.

Time to walk the beach. Each day we promenade the beach looking for nature. There is drift wood and eaten corn cobs, not a crab or a kraken to be seen anywhere. Lots of families playing in the sea, surfers, body boarders and flounderers, all being herded by the lifeguards who give warnings about rip tides and currents. Our way to the beach is right next to the entrance to our residential complex.

On returning from our walk there is coffee and hazelnut chocolate to aid Wordle and blog drafting. There is a feast planned for tonight before we watch Shetland and mutter to each other in Orkney voices, “there’s been a murrrrder”. Tomorrow is picnic on the beach day before packing and deciding when our optimum time of departure should be to give us the best shot of a smooth run home on Friday. How quickly the time passes and brings tricks of the mind. For example I seem to have lost day 183 Tuesday altogether. I remember a market and postcards written and posted, a walk on the beach and the start of reading Tales from Moominvalley. Clearly it never got as far as a blog page I wonder what that is all about. Thankfully others noticed, which is a relief.

Monday, Up at 9am for a coffee and a few notes in my journal. I make warm drinks for myself and partner, who is feeling bit off. I make us buttered toast and we read in bed till 12 o’clock when we get up for lunch. My partner showers and we have lunch, neither of us is feeling at our best. We go to a local campsite shop and buy all the odds and ends we need and return to the apartment. We sit outside to read overlooking the beach but it starts to rain. We continue to read indoors and then as the rain abates we go for a walk along the beach. Its bracing and a little damp. We return to our nest and continue to read. Today I have finished Moominpappa at Sea and Moominvalley in November. Currently I have started Tales from Moominvalley. We will eat tea, bath and while away the evening.

In the midst of this my GP rings, I ignore it but my eldest daughter rings to tell me that the GP is trying to get hold of me to arrange an annual full blood check related to a medication review. Never had one of those before so I am a bit taken aback. Certainly not something my oncologist has come up with. I suppose I shall have to ring up to make some sort of appointment over the next few days. In the meantime I shall go on having my hot flushes and feeling periodically tired. Everything feels an effort at the moment and I am aware that I am running on automatic at times. My creativity is low and much of the time I crave rest.

Sunday, sleepy Sunday and I eventually get up, write my journal and make hot drinks. I return to bed and read for a while before I and my partner get up for breakfast. Food and morning meds is the next event followed by preparation to go to the beach. We set off down the beach and watch the body boarders and surfers. At the far end of the beach we decide to test out the new wind break and I set to and erect our new blue wind shelter. We settle in and watch the sea and read.

We sit and read until we are both hungry, another day we will bring a picnic. We wander back towards our apartment admiring others sandcastle efforts.

We make it back to the steps to our residential area and work the magic on the electronic gate.

We get back to our apartment and have a late lunch. We sink into watching the final throws of the European games. Gratifyingly the Brits seems to be doing very well across the board. Late afternoon becomes evening and the final throw of the athletics plays out. Night will fall as we eat, retire to read and await what tomorrow brings. Croyde is our oyster and tomorrow we will explore.

Saturday and I wake up about 9am and make warm drinks. I dig out a notebook from my bag and begin to write some notes on the holiday so far. My partner gets up and we have breakfast looking out over the sea. I stack the dishwasher and then spend a while figuring out how this one works. It has a delay timer on it and it takes a while to sort out what the numbers mean and get down to zero. So having finally got the wee beasty working my partner and I go for a walk into the main village of Croyde.

Its a pretty village surrounded by holiday sites and camping areas. It is clear that the surfing community is embedded in this village resort. We wander into the Saltrock store. I have fond memories of Saltrock clothing from my rollerblading days. My partner buys a new hoodie as the Weird Fish one she has is drying in the apartment after a spillage. Next stop the village post office where I load up with post cards and stamps, a paper and the inevitable extra toilet rolls. Pleased with our scouting mission we return to the apartment. I discover blood in my urine again. I’m so pissed off. My partner and I have a picnic lunch and then we go to the sunbeds to read for a while. Its a chilly wind so after a while we decide to explore a bit more. We wander towards Baggy Point and stop at the surf school café for hot chocolate and a pain au chocolat. The clouds roll in and we return to the apartment and relax catching up with the final days of the European games. An evening meal and then an early night is on the cards for me, perhaps a late walk to the beach. Meds adn bed.

Friday, going on holiday day. The packing is easy, the loading the car is easy, leaving a to do list for my eldest daughter, easy, the drive a bloody eight hour nightmare. Two brief stops and hours of drudging along in petrified queues of traffic, topped off with my satnav taking us down the smallest back roads in the final three miles, which delayed us even more. We finally arrive knackered. The car gets unloaded, the fridge filled and there is a brief beach walk to blow away the travel gremlins, which rewards with the first sunset. So its pizza, garlic bread, meds and bed for me tonight.

Thursday and again I wake up feeling sore and under the weather, decidedly groggy. I have a coffee and get orientated to the day. My partner is in meetings so picking up the car from its service will have to wait. I put my washing in and tidy up a bit until my partner can give me a lift to the garage. We go and collect the car and then return home. I go to the Shed and end up Spring cleaning my desk top as an ink filler had leaked on to it. I send some messages and then continue throwing out some unwanted old cases. My partner finishes work for the day and we go to do the holiday shopping. We get our vittles and then return via the petrol station to top up the tank and to check the tyres for tomorrows run down to Devon.

Once home the perishables get stashed in the fridge and I get my washing in. I feed the hedgehog and refresh the water bowl. I work my way towards training. A walk down to the village chemists and buy some holiday toiletries. On my return I change and go to the garage. Once on the rower I select my normal resistance and decide to do an half hour. I set off and I am able to keep quite a good rhythm. It goes well and it feels like I am getting fitter.

I am pleased with my effort and what it hopefully signals. There will be no training on holiday and probably too many holiday treats so its good to have a decent session at this stage. I record the session and answer a couple of messages and get ready for tea. I eat watching the European athletics and then start to draft the blog. I still have to pack for tomorrow and sort out Tesco for my eldest daughter to eat next week. It will be alright on the night, its one of those mysteries. As long as I have my notebooks and pens with me I shall be alright along with my Moomin books. It seems to me that my battle has entered a new phase. It feels as if I wake up feeling the effects of my medication more than I was but that I am beginning to regain some fitness. Its a strange phase, one in which I am struggling to lose weight, which I think is more about not training as hard as I used to in order to avoid triggering passing blood, so I have to be patient with my self and persevere for the long term.