Sunday, 23rd July, 2023
Heavy rain overnight has left the world looking and smelling fresh and clean. It is exactly what we needed and now the sun is out to highlight the changes. Got a busy week with a trip to Brighton tomorrow for a CT Scan, a funeral of a neighbour to attend and a number of other jobs to complete. This is what living the high life looks like!
Even going to cut the lawns today. Don’t want you to hold your breath but I’ve bought a new, half-moon, lawn edger. If you want the title of boring boy, this is the way to cement it.
You know that you’re old when you meet yourself coming back. This morning, two lads who I taught as 12 yr olds in 1972 posted a photo of themselves out rock climbing together yesterday. Friends from Primary School, they are still close friends after 55 years and I can still see the youth in their faces.
One of my adopted girls is 44 this week. Emma worked for me in school as a pupil and I engineered a relationship for her with another of my favourite lads in Yr.11. We used to take them out on holiday trips to Blackpool, Scarborough, etc at a time which I can fix by a pop song that they liked. My car never heard pop songs but they insisted and I gave in. We all sang:
Because you’re gorgeous
Song by Babybird – 1996
I’d do anything for you
Because you’re gorgeous
I know you’ll get me through
If only it were true! Obviously, I over-engineered the relationship because they only lasted another year and then Emma married another ex-pupil, Peter. They are still happily together 25 years on. Emma contacted me a few days ago to find out how I was. Nice people. There are nice people in the world.
Monday, 24th July, 2023
Hot and sticky morning of what could be a significant day for me. In the past, some men might go to Brighton for a Dirty Weekend, others would go to provide evidence for a divorce when Infidelity was the only option. Boring Boy that I am, my reason for visiting Brighton is to get my bits scanned. After blood test results, I am a bit more confident that there won’t be bad news lurking in the grainy, black & white photos. I’m going to ask for a copy for my Blog. My wife says I won’t get it. We’ll see!
This cancer thing is so terrible that it’s surprising solutions haven’t been found earlier. I read yesterday that Jeremy Hunt has skin cancer and his brother and both parents all died of different cancers.
This morning it has been announced that the lovely George Alagiah, BBC journalist and newsreader has died aged 67. He had been diagnosed with bowel cancer and, at one point last year, thought he had beaten it. He started reading the BBC News again but it re-emerged as the cancer spread to his liver and lymph nodes and he has gone at just 67. I don’t often feel sad for people I have never met but, in his case, I knew him intellectually, as a good man and I am shocked by his loss.
In Leeds, Kevin has got out of his Man-Shed and it’s dry but too late for the Test Match. I’ve been out for a 2hr walk because it will be a long day in the hospital. I have to drink 2 litres of water before I go to ‘hydrate my body’. I ask you, who can drink 2 litres of water? I find it hard enough to drink 2 litres of wine! 2 litres of water is a terrifying prospect.
Don’t know why but this was reposted by one of the girls who was in the year before me at College. She posted the whole final photo in sections and, of course, I understand why this section stood out with the beauty of the central character. Pity Kevin spoilt it but you can’t have everything. I noticed that there were a few people I knew who were missing. Talked to Julie about it yesterday because she wasn’t on it. She said she deliberately missed it. I’m glad to have a record.
Tuesday, 25th July, 2023
Slept heavily after a stressful day. My appointment with the radiographers had been brought forward from Tuesday to Monday because of this:
I had done a 2hr walk in the morning and, duly showered and scrubbed up, set off for the hospital at 1.00 pm. It is an hour’s drive in normal conditions and my appointment was 3.00 pm.. I was told to hydrate by drinking 2 ltrs of water before getting to the Brighton Radiology Department. Of course, I was forced to do as I’m told by my wife. What followed is a prime example of why you should never listen to your wife.
Everything went well until we hit the town centre which turned out to be inexplicably CLOSED. We now know that there had been a serious fire in a beachside hotel and traffic was being redirected through narrow streets. Brighton in Summer is like central London on steroids. It was incredibly busy and we sat in queues for what seemed like a lifetime. The hour leeway we had allowed ourselves was whittled down to 15 mins but sat.nav., eventually, got us there … by which time I was screaming with a bladder full of 2 ltrs of water.
Arrival at the hospital was a blessed release and the radiographers we met were absolutely delightful but they were trying to cram two day’s work into one and my appointment was delayed by almost an hour. I was immediately presented with an enema stick to shove up my bum and squeeze a release of goo. I was also presented with a box of 20 additional enema sticks to administer every morning before I go for my radiology sessions. I do want to lose weight!
I don’t know how you feel about tattoos. I hate them. I think they look awful. I have spent 72 years avoiding tattoos and people with tattoos and now … I have 3!! It came as a complete shock to be told that I would be indelibly tattooed. The CT scan was ordered to scan the area which would be targeted by radiotherapy in October. It was laying down gridlines of my body to precisely target the prostate without damaging other organs. My feet were in fixed stocks. My head was fixed in place and then tattoos were engraved on each hip and somewhere in between. It didn’t hurt … much.
Now I’m down with the bad boys! I did ask for seagulls or hearts-with-initials but I was told the style was pre-ordained. Eventually, I was done and I drove home through Brighton & Hove rush hour traffic. A day which should have been completed in 2.5 hours actually took around 6 hours door to door.
When you don’t have cancer, it is just a terrible condition you hope will never visit you. When you get cancer, the whole structure of your life changes. You research the words of cancer that were previously abstract. You go to see Cancer Clinicians where you rub up alongside other cancer sufferers. You are inducted uncomfortably into the cancer world. Now it may be that my condition will be beaten and the terrible word will recede into the mists of time but so many people who suffer from it, get over it only for it to return somewhere else and more aggressively.
A friend with experience of cancer told me I would adjust and accept my condition. I won’t and can’t. I have almost dismissed it from my days other than the effects of the drugs. I may be in denial. George Alagiah, BBC journalist and newsreader who died of bowel cancer yesterday aged 67, said he had learned so much about the people who loved him and the importance of time left with them. He would never have wished the condition on himself but he was grateful for the experiences of love and support it had condensed into a much shorter timeframe that he didn’t take for granted. Such a pity that it takes a death sentence like that to fully appreciate life. Of course, it can encourage you to be boring as well.
Wednesday, 26th July, 2023
Lovely, warm and sunny day. I want to go out walking but I’ve got lots of niggling things to clear first. My Blog is read by about 1500 people a month. I pay quite a lot to a company, Ionos, who host it on their platform.
Some time ago, my Blog went down and I panicked that I had lost over a decade of my life’s records. They got it back up eventually but, by then, I had leased another site to backup the first one. The backup of my Blog is read by about 500 readers each month as well. At the weekend, my Backup Blog stopped working.
Over the past week or so, I have been moving (relatively) large amounts of money around from my Bank accounts to Savings/Investment accounts. I use both online banking methods and Banking apps on my phone and iPad. Suddenly, it stopped working. I phoned Nat.West.. Fortunately, it was not caused by Farage. He would never be in my bank. Their Technical Department worked out that it was a browser problem and I’ve solved it by installing Google Chrome as well as my standard MS Edge. Suddenly the clouds fell away and light shone across all operations. If only all problems could be so easy to solve!
Maybe a trip up to Manchester could be on the cards. Always looking for something to pay a good return on investment. This was sent to me yesterday:
It guarantees 7.0% on investment for 10 years. 7% until I’m 82 years old! Give me a good excuse to visit Manchester regularly. The 7% is in addition to capital value increase. Worth exploring!
One of the other things I’ve got to do is fend off my GP service who are desperate to counsel me about my cancer. I really don’t want that but they keep coming back to it. I will deal with it myself but I’ve got to find a polite way to repel their offers of help. They keep ringing me. I keep putting them off. I have to speak to them directly and firmly without being rude. Tough ask for me. Now I’ve got three tattoos, I can do anything! As a Bad Boy, I don’t care who I hurt.
A couple of years ago, the lovely Dee, our Australasian-Bavarian neighbour gave us a present of a Calla Lily (Zantedeschia). It is a deep, sexy aubergine, mauve. This year it is just starting to flower again. Let’s hope I will!
Thursday, 27th July, 2023
Wonder of wonders … we have rain. It is so unusual to look out and see the world soaking wet. At 9.00 am, it’s still coming down. I’m going to be spending more time in the Gym than outside.
At the moment, I’m watching an infuriatingly boring/funny/clever drama called Detectorists on Netflix although it was originally made for BBC and stars Mackenzie Crook and Toby Jones. I must admit I wish I hadn’t started it but, now, I have to finish it even though there are 3 series.
Despite its title, all life is here. Ambition and failure, Love and Loss, pregnancy and impending fatherhood are woven into ordinary lives. It has its sadnesses and extraordinary touches of affection. Even so, I am having to force myself to finish it. I am gradually being sucked into its narrative.
It turns out that speaking to the Doctors’ Surgery was easy and very positive. They have a Clinician who counsels cancer patients but is happy to wait until they request it. I just hope I don’t have to.
There seems to be so much media fuss about pan-European temperatures as if they were highly unusual. In my experience of years of travelling to and living in Greece, they are fairly typical. Even the wild fires fanned by the meltemi winds are fairly typical. As we drove back to UK from our island, we would have to go over the Korinthos Canal and along the Peloponnese along the National Highway to Patras. Regularly, it showed all the signs of fire damage with burnt and smouldering vegetation and chunks of melted tarmac.
On this day in 2010, I was only 59 and a team of Albanians were working outside in 39C/103F as they tiled our patio around the house in Greece. It was virtually the last thing we did to complete the property after we had retired. I can tell you that 103F is incredibly hot to be out in never mind carry weights or pushing wheel barrows full of cement. It didn’t really help that they were paid such a pittance to do it either.
Friday, 28th July, 2023
A bright, warm morning. Going out for an early walk because we are attending a funeral this afternoon. It’s what tends to happen in age isn’t it? It is the funeral of someone who we hardly knew but who lived across the road from us down here for about 5 years. Pat was a retired businessman. He had established and run an large electrical service in the city of London. They specialised in shop and office fitting. He turned 80 soon after he arrived in this 5 bedroomed house with his wife, June. Pat was a mild mannered and softly spoken Irishman who was extremely friendly and helpful to me.
About two years ago, we were very disappointed that they put their house up for sale although we subsequently learned that Pat was being treated for advanced Melanoma – skin cancer. They were obviously downsizing in preparation for June living alone. We went round to see their new house which was smaller but very comfortable. A month ago, we heard that Pat was bedridden and two weeks ago that he had died. Neighbours all around liked him and are attending the funeral at Worthing Crematorium.
Never been there before. Maybe, I’ll end up there. I certainly will not have the attendance that Pat will have today. I may just be left there at night in a binbag. Certainly, on these occasions, I find my mind drifting to my own circumstances. Obviously self-obsessed and selfish but unavoidable. Maybe you know this feeling, Dear Reader. Do you put yourself in the place of the deceased? Do you wonder whether you will be next? …. Sorry, onwards and upwards! Well, perhaps not upwards at a crematorium.
A small anecdote that tells you so much about me. Apparently, Pat wanted bright colours at his funeral. He didn’t want sombre black to dominate. Some mourners we know are talking about wearing Hawaiian shirts in gaudy informality. I just can’t bring myself to do it – not that I own an Hawaiian shirt anyway. I will wear a black suit but will compromise with a bright tie and silk handkerchief. Will that do? You can judge me if you like!
Saturday, 29th July, 2023
It’s been a sad week. Yesterday I tried to do my best to be bright – well that tie is fairly luminous – but it felt strange on such a sombre occasion. We drove to the crematorium near Findon in hot sunshine. Not really appropriate for suits and sadness. I think it’s the impulse of my age but I do find these occasions make me seriously maudlin.
About 70 – 80 mourners were present to say goodbye to Pat. The service was excellent. Like me, Pat was a lapsed Catholic and the service reflected that. He had three sons who all spoke about him and there were two large screens up showing a photo presentation accompanied by his favourite Jazz piece.
It was the pictures that told a 1000 words and really got to me. From Pat as a child, his first motorbike, proudly showing off his first car and meeting his wife. Through the years of bringing up his boys, travelling round the world on multiple occasions and then, the really brave but horribly painful last few weeks in the hospice.
Death through cancer is truly devastating for the human form. It almost robs one of the will to live. Gaunt, grey and obviously desperately ill, the spirit of Pat looked beaten. Even so, I thought it was absolutely right for the family to mark his final days. The obvious corollary is, will I end like that? Will we end like that?
I also find myself musing on my own funeral. Pat had 80 people. I’d be lucky to have 8. Then I started musing on who those 8 would be and I only got to 4. Actually, forget it. Pauline can just hand me over to the incinerator staff and have my ashes scattered on the rose bushes. She chose green for yesterday but she can wear what she likes for disposing of me – gardening gloves would be appropriate!
Mourners were invited to a meet at a local pub. We hate pubs and chose not to go but rather slip away quietly into the sunshine and drive home. It’s strange (I thought I’d say it myself before you could.) but I felt the need to mark the occasion with a glass of wine at home. It is the way I prefer to do things.
Later, if you can believe it, we went out for a long walk and I followed that up with some Gym work. Got to do my quota whatever the circumstances! Still living … but sad! Pat’s wife, June, must get up this morning alone. Having spent the past few weeks preparing for and being involved in his funeral. Today, all those supporters, well wishers, loved ones … are gone and she is left to live her life alone. Now is the time she needs friends. Now is the time we all need friends.