A celebratory cream tea

 

Celebration Tea from Matthew and Rosie

Finally, the huge run of daily visits to Addenbrooke's is over. I was told to have someone accompany me in case of nausea or feeling faint, and a tremendous team of four helpers stepped in to share the load, all willing to sacrifice their own time to drive me in and wait with me in a dreary, windowless room bursting with too many people for the seating. Each one has, or is related to, someone with some form of cancer, so an atmosphere of gloom and introspective hangs in the air as each in their own way ponders their future.  

Matthew and Rosie sent Annie a splendid cream tea, partly for mothers' day and partly to celebrate getting through the radiotherapy. She laid it out formally to have on the dining table in the sun. Delicious!

Now the sun is moving into its summer sky, I can sit in its warmth in my favourite armchair. I'm reading The People on Platform 5, a Christmas gift from Annie. It's a light and upbeat book, and a good counterpart to the mayhem on the news, and the stream of murder mysteries we watch to idle an evening hour.  

We hear a lot about 'influencers', and how they have thousands of followers, each presumably willing to buy some product the influencer is pushing that day. I wondered about becoming an influencer myself; would the handful of people who read this blog rush to buy whatever clothes I chose to wore? No, they would not. But perhaps I can be a de-influencer. Annie buys me lovely clothing, but as soon as I don it, it seems to change in subtle ways until I always seem to be dressed in shoddy, stained, left-me-overs. I think companies should pay me not to wear their clothing or use their products, and add a bonus if I wear some rival's garb. If only I could build up a large readership for my posts, I could make a fortune as companies vie for me not to be seen in their clothing.