This message is brought to you by STEROIDS

I’m happily off my trolley again on my last of three blissful days on steroids.  I had chemo and herceptin yesterday and all went well.  The chemo unit at the hospital is always a surprisingly cheery place, I hesitate to recommend it, but you could do worse.  Nevertheless it was close to a six hour visit and my kindle came into its own.  Thanks work pals for getting it for me and dragging me into the 21^st century.  It’s so much easier to sit with a kindle on my lap rather than rifling through my enormous bag (known on the unit as my chemo sack) for books and setting off alarms as I slightly dislodge the needle-y IV thing in my hand.  Also I get to feel smug while nodding and smiling at the other kindle users sat about me and cast looks of pity at those poor souls still reading vellum manuscripts and papyrus scrolls.  If only they could make a kindle that smelled like books I would be truly happy.

On Tuesday all four of the Discombobulated Sisters were in the same county (not to mention country) at the same time.  So the unheard of happened.  We went out for a jolly jaunt in the countryside, just the four of us.  I don’t remember the last time this happened but I like to think that it isn’t a Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse style portent of doom (although it could easily have gone that way).  Anyway it was sunny; we had heaps of fun and lashings of ginger beer.  We went to Acton Scott Historic Working Farm (pushing small children out of the way to see the piglets), back to the Dower House Gardens at Morville, had lunch in a newish place in Church Stretton (thanks for telling me about it M) and then had a drive around the rolling hills.  This entailed sister No 3 valiantly driving over the Long Mynd with sisters nos 1 and 2 refusing to look over the drop as we climbed the hill and all of us squealing and breathing in at the sight of another car coming our way (the breathing in being essential to make the car smaller and therefore ensuring the squeeze past other vehicles on the narrow road would not see us tumbling into the abyss).  

Church Stretton from the Long Mynd, in other words, the great outdoors

 

When we reached the top of the hill we got out of the car for a look around and a breath of fresh air.  Sis no 2 loves the countryside but holds a deeper and more sincere affection for John Lewis.  As she tip-toed back to the car, avoiding sheep poo, she got talking to some cyclists and asked them how many miles they’d done.  “We like to do about 65 miles a day” came the breezy reply.  Sis no 2 wrinkled her nose and responded with a heartfelt “ooh I’d rather be shopping”.

As I told sis no 2 repeatedly, she has no romance in her soul.  Unlike me.  I strode about the Long Mynd, thought about life, the universe and everything and drifted back to the car not caring a hoot about whether or not I trod in sheep poo.  I should probably point out that I was travelling in my sister’s car so I wasn’t going to have to clean the poo off the upholstery, otherwise I might have been a bit more wary with my feet.  To be fair, I do have a lovely photo of sis no 2 pretending to be Julie Andrews on the top of the Long Mynd but I daren’t post it here as I’m too frightened of her (my sister, not Julie Andrews, although come to think of it ...)

Anyway I am now full of the joys of the Shropshire countryside and may take up poetry and turn this into my Blog of Poems.  Don’t worry, only joking, don’t unfollow me, please.  But I will leave you with possibly my most favourite nature poem, written I believe, by the great Spike Milligan:

Return to Sorrento (Third Class)

I must go down to the sea again

To the lonely sea and sky

I left my socks and vest there

I wonder if they are dry

Also, while I’m in a versifying mood, here's my favourite poem of all time, by

I-don’t-who, but taught to me by my dad when I was knee high to a grasshopper:

Little Robin Redbreast

Little Robin Redbreast

Sat upon a pole

Undid his breeches

And did a sausage roll

Last day of the steroids today.  Normal service will be resumed shortly.  Expect the usual doom, gloom and misery in a few days time and that’s a promise.