No, the title doesn’t refer to my age (although I feel it sometimes!) but this is the 150th post on this blog.
It’s come (coincidentally) in the middle of quite a big week for me and my family: I started the week with the final tablets of my final cycle of chemotherapy; Jennifer “graduated” from nursery yesterday and finishes pre-school tomorrow; and, tomorrow we move into our new home, The Hobbit House. Continue reading “150 Not Out”
Before Graeme died, birthdays were always special in our house. I know some people have never made much of birthdays but we did. I remember excitedly opening presents and cards on my birthday (who doesn’t like presents?). I also remember the excitement of choosing presents for my family for their birthdays from an early age (before I had any money of my own), particularly for my brother. We both had summer birthdays and our garden was big. Birthdays when we were little, weather permitting, involved friends and family gathering in our garden and we had paddling pools, sack races and other fun and games! Continue reading “Birthdays: Past, Present and Future”
The Quarantine House has opened its doors once again because Leo has gone viral for what seems like the millionth time in his short lifetime: he’s got Chicken Pox! My Cole boys are therefore cooped up once more with feeling. Leo woke up early this morning with a temperature and this afternoon the first spot appeared, followed fairly quickly by a dozen more. Continue reading “Going Viral!”
On this day in 1913, Suffragette Emily Wilding Davison* died, four days after she stepped in front of King George V’s horse** at the Epsom Derby.
Davison joined the Women’s Social and Political Union (WSPU) in 1906. Members believed that militant, confrontational tactics were needed to achieve their ultimate goal of women’s suffrage. Continue reading “Purple, White and Green”
What could I possibly say that hasn’t already been said about the despicable attack in Manchester earlier this week? I’ve started this post a dozen times and have nothing to offer. I’m therefore going to do what I often do and borrow someone else’s words.
Tony Walsh, as I think most of you will know, wrote a poem “This Is The Place” in tribute to the past, present and future of Manchester (England’s second city). If you haven’t already seen him read it at the vigil held in Manchester earlier this week, see it here. This short article sums up what I thought when I first heard Mr Walsh deliver his poem. Continue reading “Manchester”
On Wednesday, I will be exactly halfway through the six cycles of the chemotherapy planned for me. I see my Oncologist tomorrow for a pre-quad cycle catch-up. Overall, I’ve been feeling a bit tired over the last few days. It’s probably a combination of: sleeplessness (I’ve been struggling to get to sleep and waking up early, which is not ideal for sleeping!); the chemo side effects kicking in; further steroid reduction last Wednesday (as they give one a boost in energy, I surmise that, as one reduces the dose, the boost is reduced too); increased mobility, which means more short walks in an average week; and, of course, general tiredness and fatigue caused by having a brain tumour, brain surgery (twice), radiotherapy and chemotherapy!*
However, I am feeling a lot less tired than I did at this stage when I rode the bicycle. Continue reading “[Ch]e-mo Sabe Started on a Unicycle, is Currently on a Tricycle and Wants to Ride a Hexacycle”
I’ve seen the meme below a number of times:
The first time I saw it, I laughed out loud because I identified with it immediately. It captured my tiredness during a particularly busy and stressful time at work when I was pregnant with Leo. I saw it again yesterday and it made me laugh again but it also made me think of the ongoing efforts of the Triumverate of carers and their increasing tiredness. I haven’t told Mr C that I’m thinking of giving him a new nickname: Continue reading “The Fruity Potato”