Friday and I wake after a fitful night in which I got up at 4:30 and did some more Christmas shopping before returning to bed to sleep till 8 o’clock. I have breakfast and coffee. I clear the kitchen and continue to do Christmas admin. At an odd moment I send one of my nephews and his wife happy anniversary wishes as they speed towards London for a treat. Another friend and her wife are off to the Spa, I begin to think that post training I should indulge in a long warm bath bomb bath. Before anything else I put together tonight’s meal in the crockpot. So, at kick off tonight there will be a chicken and chorizo stew to be eaten. I change into my kit and trudge to the garage to row so that I can earn my treat.
I do a half hour at my normal resistance level. It feels an effort and I wonder if I am just tiring at the end of the weeks training. Anyway, I persist and grind out a below average session. It’s always a sign of fatigue if I fail to burn 400+ calories or row less than 6 kilometres in half an hour.
Before I get out of my kit, I return the garden camera to its station giving it a baseball cap cover to keep the rain off the lens. I change and prepare tomato soup for lunch and settle into watching the afternoon world cup football match. While doing so I do some life admin, arranging a meal table and reorganising a parcel delivery. Some more Christmas deliveries arrive along with the latest letter from my oncologist to my GP. I still cannot get used to reading the phrase, “DIAGNOSIS: Metastatic castration-resistant prostate cancer”. It’s not exactly poetic nor comforting. In fact, it’s just a rugged reminder of the shit I am in. However, I am also bought a lottery ticket by my partner so I expect by Monday I shall be ironically filthy rich. At the end of the football match, I go for my promised soak in a bath bomb bath.
It turns out that the expectation of a delicious warm bath was better than the actual experience. I had planned a long soak and a read, but the water was not that warm even if it is bath bomb aromatic and sparkling. So, I cut short my ablutions and return to the sofa and an evening that will include the chicken crockpot meal and the last of the group stage world cup football matches. My weekend to do list is growing as I prepare for my partners birthday on Monday and that the household has a supply of vegetables and other necessary goodies. Of course, there will be tension as the BBC has moved Strictly to Friday night to clash with the football on the other channel. Negotiations are under way. What lays ahead is a weekend of Christmas wrapping, review and reorientation where necessary, and of course birthday preparation for my partner’s birthday on Monday.
