New Year's Eve

Ann in the George and Dragon

Yesterday, we did some last-minute shopping in Waitrose. Or to be more accurate, Ann shopped for the extra bits of food she wanted, while I walked the dogs. We stopped for lunch in Long Melford, where I took this picture. Ann says I take bad photos of her, and refused to post it on her Facebook page, but I think she looks great, so I leave it here for the world to judge.

It is the end of a turbulent year, bringing many changes to our lives and futures other than the baleful cloud of Covid, that has hung above us all like a gloomy portend of humanities ultimate demise. We will let the year end slip quietly away, with little celebrate save getting through twelve months of hospital visits and fear of travel. We have lost two good holidays we had planned for abroad, and with the sword of cancer hanging over me and the commitment to a year of treatments, I do not see us getting far next year either. We shall have to enjoy the delights that Britain has to offer, and book times away as best we may.

In keeping with our quiet fade to 2021, we had a modest lunch at the Swan, then a visit to a garden centre to try and buy a bigger pot for one of Ann's plants. Ann seems to have green fingers when it comes to house plants; they all run wild, and need constant repotting or splitting. I cannot grow plants, as I forget to water them and they wither, but I grow cacti from the wild deserts, that thrive in arid soil. They do well enough, but even they have now grown and need repotting - a job I keep promising to do one day.

Winter sunset over Rodbridge

We stopped at Rodbridge park on the way back, to give the dogs a good run among their many friends - for the bright sun and unseasonable warmth had brought forth a whole platoon of dogs, chasing balls or each other but mostly running free, which suits our two country tykes well. Then to a quiet night, just two of us, and a few nibbles and some booze to while away the hours till midnight, and its promise of hopes to come. 

My new coat from Mike

Some time ago, I had admired Mike's new coat when he visited. His amazing generosity led him immediately to buy me one too, a thick quilted and lined affair, ready for the worst of winters. Thank you Mike.

Seasonal celebrations

Ann makes Christmas

Boxing Day at The Mill

MA brings in the first birthday cake

Christmas is a mixed time for families. We rarely have a large gathering: most of my side of the family are rooted across England, north and west, and Ann's through her sister's  also sit up north. But the local ones came: Edwin and Andre for Christmas dinner, MA and her family in the evening for games and the traditional lucky dip. This year, Edwin was tasked with setting the theme and getting the gifts. He chose "Epidemics through history", with each present wrapped in a tasteful Coronavirus paper, with imaginative gifts to represent such things as the Spanish Flu and HIV/AIDS.  

Ann always makes a superb Christmas dinner, vegetarian but with a prime nut roast, and a vegan joint to slice, with all the trimmings. Edwin brought in a heated frying pan of brandy to pour on the Christmas pudding, then set it alight. There was a great whoosh of flame that nearly set his beard afire, but we all admired the effect. 

Birthday evening

We see much of wild life living in Hundon. In the front garden, a squirrel hung by his tail from a branch, upside down, to rob the "squirrel-proof" birdseed box. At the back, a red kite settled on a branch of a neighbour's tree before circling round us, scaring off even the pigeons from feeding from the fallen seeds.

Boxing day saw us frantically phoning round to find a place that would serve a meal, to save Ann from further work. For all their moaning about losing income from all the restrictions, a surprising number of pubs and restaurants were closed completely, or only serving drinks today. We finally found The Mill at Sudbury that could accommodate four hungry souls at 3pm. Alas, they only had a fixed menu with one vegetarian option, a Thai curry. The waitress checked with the chef and reassured us that this was "very mild", but it turned out to be bursting with chilis, burning the mouth and tongue, and inedible for gentle palates. Later, we walked it off strolling through Sudbury as thick fog shrouded the flooded river and dripped from the bare trees. 

My birthday always follows hot on the heels of Christmas, making it doubly difficult for the present givers. I think Ann bought the only decorated cake left in the shops: it was from the theme of Frozen. She refused to cut through the beautiful pictures of Elsa and Anna, peeling them off to preserve them unwounded by any knife, so we each had a slice of cake iced with tiny border of blue ice. MA and family came over for afternoon tea, helping serve the cake. In the evening, Edwin and Andre had invited us for a meal and a second cake, so I may know I am well and truly one year older, although alas my creaking body leaves little doubt of that.

Celebrate the Winter Solstice, while awaiting the Omega Armageddon

Cheers to the Winter Solstice

Ann and I like to celebrate the Winter Solstice. I hate winter: it is cold, dark, miserable and damp. I sit under a blanket, shivering with extra jerseys, long socks, or even a coat. Outside, the bare trees are dripping incessantly as though weeping for their lost glory, and underfoot is a sea of mud, waiting to change into treacherous ice before the season is done. The days are short and gloomy, under a monotonous grey sky. But amidst this bleakness, one day stands firm - the turning of the year, when we know we can look forward to gradually lengthening days, brighter skies, and the return of warmth. Thus do we celebrate.

This year, our celebration took us to the Clare Swan. They have had a torrid year with all the restrictions, and even this night, in the midst of the week before Christmas when the place would normally be booked solid with works outings or family celebrations, we were the only souls in the place. Nick was on his own, gloomily serving two permanent bar props in the saloon, and us in the dining area. Following a previous example, we decided to eat out to help out, so went for the full three-course Monty, splitting a bottle of his finest Chablis between us. He had not lit the fire in the restaurant, expecting no guests, so we retired before a roaring fire in the saloon for after dinner drinks, joining the two bar-leaning regulars. They were joined by some woman who was sobbing as though with the intense grief of someone who'd just lost a son, though we never did learn the cause of her distress.
 

Getting home, I was so full and bloated I could not sleep and had to be propped on an extra pillar to lessen the regurgitation. Next day, we both missed breakfast and lunch, and ate only a few crackers and cheese for supper, with no wine.

The Covid waves are progressing well. We are now on Omicron, and for once the PM may have called it right - or at least, been guided forcibly by his cabinet and tory rebels to do the right thing. His decision to hold back from further lockdowns this side of Christmas may be proved correct, is Omicron is as mild as its early promise. Needless to say, he is taking much flack for this from his Welsh and Scottish counterparts, and even the WHO have singled him out for criticism - though since the debacle about their investigation into China's behaviour in all of this, I think they have rather weakened their moral authority. Even Witty has turned from hero to villain by starting to spout political advice rather than just presenting the raw data and leaving it for others to make the judgement. We await the next few weeks with interest, meanwhile being "sensible but cautious", without locking ourselves away or trembling behind the sofa. The time to worry is when the Omega strain hits the world. By then, Covid might evolve to be even more highly infectious, completely impervious to every attempt to vaccinate, and totally deadly - wiping out what is left of civilisation with one final hurrah - that surely will be Armageddon.

Gifts galore - a delightful visit from Mike and Ryan

Mike and Ryan visited today. It was a delight to see them, and hear their news. they came with their dog Wilson, a rescue Staffy. He is soft as soap with us,  but had been trained as a fighting dog so is unable to mix with Byron and Bronte so stayed in the car.

Their new business enterprise for designing web sites is going from strength to strength, so we will be watching its progress with enthusiastic interest. Amazingly, they have brought us a cornucopia of presents: Ann received a Wuthering Heights themed scarf and handbag, plus wine and perfume. I was given whisky, brandy, a book, a huge box of liquor chocs, and a fine aftershave among other things. We were stunned, and have never been so spoilt.

Later we took them for lunch at the Baltic Amber. Ryan is an interesting and very bright man, and he and Mike gave a lively account of what their system offers over rivals. They seem well organised and purposeful in their plans, and clearly on top of the market they serve and rival institutions. Over the food, Mike and I opened up about his difficult childhood and problems that had concerned him, which was very emotional and we lingered for a while over our soft drinks. They returned to our home for a quick drink (no alcohol!) but had to leave all too soon for the long trek north. We look forward to seeing them again next year, and hope then they will be able to stay for longer.

Mike  and Ryan visit

In Men Whom Men Condemn as Ill

In men whom men condemn as ill

I find so much of goodness still,

In men whom men pronounce divine

I find so much of sin and blot,

I do not dare to draw a line

Between the two, where God has not.

by Joaquin Miller

Ann looks at her amazing presents

The long immunotherapy journey begins

I am strapped to the drip stand

The long road of immunotherapy has begun.  On Wednesday I was summoned to Addenbrookes for the blood tests. One can tell one is in a Cambridge teaching hospital. Along one long corridor were a sequence of Searle-like cartoons depicting the history of the University (and the city) starting with its founding in 1209, when scholars fled Oxford after some of their number were hanged by the local citizenry, and working through a number of eminant people who studied or taught there. Another corridor is lined with quotations from Shakespeare, but to bring the place back to earth one notice pinned up read: Thank you for practicing social distancing. Being Cambridge, someone had crossed the spelling through to correct the American 'c' with an English 's'.

I duly attending the bloodletting room, giving several pints of the precious stuff, then they said I was all done. It is a long walk from the oncology outpatients to the carpark, but I was nearly there when my phone rang. "You were meant to see the doctor as well," said the voice, so back I traipsed. It was for very little. A young registrar asked if I was still OK, and tried to reassure me that I might not get any side-effects. Driving home through Hundon, a funeral cortage had assembled at the bottom of our hill. The coffin was in place in the hearse, which was clearly ready to move off. At the church as I drove post were many more black-tied or skirted people waiting at the entrance, with more walking down the hill carrying food for the wake in the village hall. It is the first funeral I've spotted in Hundon, but Mary-Anne says they are quite common, the village being peopled by so many elderly souls. She's a great source of comfort as I start my treatment.

 Today, I had the first course of immuno. The list of potential side effects is long and chilling, for all are common and potentially serious. In these days of uncaring Covid, Ann is not allowed to accompany me, and being a weekend the hospital was eerily quiet with empty corridors and a silent, deserted outpatients. Only the treatment bays were busy, arrayed with comfortable upholstered chairs, probably accommodating up to sixteen people at a time. The cannula was inserted, the drip started, and I just had to wait patiently for two hours while it ran through. The senior nurse, Nithia, had been there for sixteen years and was very professional and competent. She ran through a list of problems I might encounter, accompanied by a box of tablets for potential sickness and another for diarrhoea. There is not an organ in the body that might escape the onslaught, and I did feel progressively sick as the poison dripped away into my system. Perhaps it is psychological, but I was glad to take one of her tablets.

Afterwards, I drove to Edwin and Andre's apartment to pick up Ann. Andre was out visiting friends in Ely, but was expected back shortly and when the doorbell rang, Edwin said that must be his Amazon friend and pushed the intercom to release the main entry door, calling through the speaker phone "come on up, love." The man came up with a delivery and it really was Amazon rather than Amazon man. He threw the parcel at Edwin and fled rapidly down the stairs. Andre came in a few minutes later, to berate Edwin for chatting up another man. I was glad to get home and relax, for the nausea continues and I feel very washed out.

Hospital visiting week

 This is hospital week. Yesterday was Papworth for surgical follow-up - and happily the new X-ray is clear. My lung has re-expanded, with no fluid or partial collapse, and the surgeon confirmed he had removed it all. Yippee!! I told the surgeon I currently feel much better even than before the op, and he said, "make the most of it. The time between surgery and immunotherapy is usually your best time." Oh thanks, a real gloom-monger. I had left Ann at the Scotsdales Garden Centre, and Edwin was there when I went to meet her with tea and cake and an invite to go on to their apartment for dinner, so that was a good day.

Today I go to West Suffolk for my regular cystoscopy. This is the most painful and uncomfortable examination of them all, as any man may imagine. It is not pleasant having a tube and camera pushed up one's intimate bits, and poked around all corners of the bladder while a huge colour image is flashed up on the large monitor for all to see and comment on. I'm just thankful that thus far they have been clear for three years, which is good for bladder cancer. With that and the successful metastatic melanoma removal, I live in hope of a few more good years. Tomorrow I go to Addenbrookes for the oncology check and blood tests before my immuno, then on Saturday does the actual treatment begin.

Nick at the Swan, Clare

I continue to paint, though now somewhat sporadically. I am working on a large full-length joint portrait of Ann and me on our wedding day. We had little money when we married, so had no professional photography, relying instead on the cameras of guests and relatives, so we don't have many. Also, these old photos are hard to work from as they are small and contain little detail. I have however completed a portrait of Nick, the landlord at the Swan in Clare. He is always very friendly and welcoming, with a distinctive face and it was a pleasure to paint him.

Celebrate while we may

 We have been invited out twice this week - a record indeed. On Friday, we went for a wine and nibbles evening at the home of one of the men in our Hundon men's old codgers group to say farewell to another member moving from Hundon to Linton in Cambridgeshire. It was the first time we had met all the wives, and the first time most of the wives had met each other, but the conversation flowed freely with the drink, and everyone amalgamated well, and some new friendships were made. In the end, they even suggested they ought to hold a rival meeting of wives each time we met.

I watched the Abu Dubai grand prix this afternoon. I do not usually watch motor sport, but as aficionados will know, this was special, with Hamilton and the Dutchman Verstappen entering the race neck and neck with equal points. One only had to finish before the other to take the world F1 championship. We were all rooting for Hamilton, hoping he'd take his eighth championship for England, but it was not to be. However, it did feel as though something was not right with this race; there was a crash near the end of the laps, and a safety car drove slowly round as the wreckage was cleared. No cars were meant to pass the safety car, leaving Hamilton over ten seconds ahead, and with three lapped cars between him and Verstappen. But unexpectedly, the race steward let the lapped cars pass ahead of the safety car, allowing the Honda to move up to just a few seconds behind the Mercedes. From there, it succeeded in moving ahead of Hamilon on their fresher tyres. It seemed to me, a mear novice, the most unjust decision in sporting history, so I'm glad they are appealing the decision.  

At the Baltic Amber

Today we went to the Baltic Amber for a fine meal curtosy of Richard and Chris, my brother and sister-in-law. We even had a good bottle of wine and post prandial cocktails thanks to their generous gift - so thank you both! It was a timely gift, for next week I have four separate hospital visits, moving from Papworth to West Suffolk, to Addenbrookes, and ending with my first immunotherapy treatment on Saturday. I hope to remain well on these treatments, but am aware that they can have bad side effects, and I may not feel up to much celebrating if the treatment goes unfavourably.