GOING THROUGH THE DRY TIMES
‘I give him a sweet everyday when he ticks off another visit on his card’ said a wife to me today at the hospital waiting while her husband was having his radiotherapy. ‘Why don’t you ask your wife to give you a sweet as well every day you get a tick?
’That’s a good idea I thought’ !!!
I am now two thirds of the way through my treatment with just two months
I’m starting to clear my bookshelves ready for moving. Down sizing is hard. I’ll be putting together bundles of books in the next few weeks on different topics starting with this one for men. Continue reading
I play a little game with myself, guessing which house down our road will be the last to still have snow on its roof. This year we won! Either we have the best insulated roof in the road, so the heat inside doesn’t escape into the roof and melt the snow – or else we are the meanest with our heating! If you’ve been round and sat in front of our log fires you’ll know we like it warm, so its not that! Also its not the insulation factor. Continue reading
Its been quite a roller coaster week. On Tuesday I was feeling like a trussed up supermarket chicken ready to be put in the oven, only the doctors were going to put me inside a huge scanning machine. The hum of the motors increased and the bed slowly moved forwards … and then I heard the whine of the motors start to slow down and I was being ejected. They told me my body was not hydrated enough to undergo the long radio therapy course, that I needed to go home and drink, drink, drink and come back next week when they’d try again. My marker was 180 hydration, it needed to be 250.
I protested. ‘But you can’t push the programme back a week. I’ve got to move out of my house before Easter, and this will take me over the time I’ve got left’. Continue reading
‘You’ll have to meet the neighbours, first’, we were told by the elderly gentleman, considering giving his lovely (but ancient!) five bedroomed house to our church to use as a Manse in 1979, ‘We’ll have to see if you pass the test’
And so we nervously gathered round a lovely Victorian oak table with the neighbours for a roast beef dinner, hoping we would meet with approval. A huge rib of beef appeared from the coal fired cooker range in the kitchen and after ‘a word of prayer’, the serious task of carving great chunks off it began. ‘Do you like your beef on the lean, or on the fat?’ each of us were asked. Continue reading
Eagle Believers 