I love steroids

Since I last posted my health is pretty much the same.  The only exception being the wonder that is a reasonable dose of steroids.  My oncologist warned me that they could give me a false feeling of wellness.  But false is good enough for me.  It's better than lying poleaxed in my bed with zero energy.  I've yet to develop the puffy steroid face but my muscles have definitely been wasting (as warned) and all the skin on my arms and legs has turned wrinkly.  You win some you lose some.  You also buy expensive body lotion online and live in hope.

Although the steroids have helped massively with energy, my breathing problems remain the same.  So although I'm keen to do things, physically it's difficult.  The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak (and did I mention saggy).

Also, possibly steroid related, are my patience levels.  I have no time for what I consider to arsery of any sort.  So if you come round here be warned!   I make no apology for it, it's positively liberating. Light the fuse and stand back.

Meanwhile, of course, people have been lovely.  The mass ranks of the other-half's family did a 15 mile, very muddy, very hard sponsored walk to raise money for my local hospice.  What a bunch of good 'uns.  

The end of the walk and still standing (just)

My sisters have, as always, been troopers.  Baby sitting me, cooking, commode emptying and generally giving poor old Nev a break from me.

And as for the outpouring of messages, gifts and visits after my last blog post, well I was touched.  I'm afraid I didn't get around to taking photos of everything but thanks to everyone.  I luffs you all.  Here's a couple of pictures we received

Beautiful hand drawn artwork

 

Beautiful and very, very glittery artwork

And lest you worry that the three-legged monster cat got left out. Fear not.  Here is his  latest gift, a Bet Lynch style cat tunnel.
 

Tasteful

Despite the breathing problems I have been able to get out and about some days thanks to Nev, the wheelchair and portable oxygen. It can be a bit of a palaver but it's lovely to be outside, wheeling round the park in the sunshine.

 And even better is going down the pub in my posh new coat. 

Cheers!

In the wars

Remember the mystery (and huge) gnome that appeared in my garden last spring?  Well I'm afraid some recent windy weather has taken its toll.  And the gnome isn't the only one who's been through the wars lately.

I've been complaining about breathlessness for ages and it's got worse and worse.  I went to The Christie (the specialist hospital I've been attending in Manchester) a week ago for scan results.  The scan was good - no change, but the doc was not at all happy about my breathing and admitted me.

I spent a week in hospital with the poor other-half having to trek backwards and forwards to Manchester (a one hour forty minute drive each way on a good day) to visit me.  I have no complaints whatsoever about my care but, as I'm sure you know, hospital wards are not peaceful, restful places so it was all a bit of a strain.  Added to that I couldn't walk a step without becoming very breathless so commodes behind the bed curtains were the order of the day.  Necessary but not very dignified.

While all this was going on, the three-legged monster cat was safely at home.  Lounging on his special cushion, dignity intact.  Lucky blighter.

Lord Muck

During my stay the medical bods did a high resolution CT scan and still found no change in my lungs since May, so no obvious reason for the breathlessness.  

During some regular observations the nurse found that my heart was racing alarmingly. Within moments I was surrounded by medical staff and advised that it would be a good idea for Nev to return to the hospital even though he'd only just got back to the Midlands after visiting.  Two of his sisters kindly drove him back and he arrived in time to find that my heart rate had, thankfully, slowed.  

So the focus of attention moved to my heart. An echocardiogram revealed that there seemed to be some sort of pressure there so I was prescribed beta blockers and arrangements were made for me to have a cardio MRI in a hospital a few miles away from the Christie (cue a trip lying flat in an ambulance - but no nee-naws).  Before leaving the Christie I asked the medics to tell me straight what they thought the scan would reveal.  Their opinion was that it was likely that the cancer was pressing on my heart, in which case all treatment would cease.  I asked how long they thought I had but they were unable to say before seeing the scan results.  At this stage I had them draw the curtains around my bed and had a good blub.  

However, the cardio MRI revealed no problem with my heart.  This was good news obviously but it's pretty frustrating to be a medical mystery.  It felt like my life was turning into an episode of House.

So the next thing was to try steroids to ease the breathlessness.  This has worked to a small degree and finally, after a week in hospital, I was allowed to leave as long as I had oxygen at home.  I cannot bear to go into the frantic organising that went into ensuring that oxygen was installed on a Friday afternoon - but thankfully it was done.  Me stressed?  Never.  What a week!

Being back at home is wonderful.  I was absolutely exhausted so the peace, quiet and loveliness of my own bed, not to mention the total disdain of the cat, were blissful.

Yesterday I went back to Manchester again to see the docs. They have had conversations with the head honchos of the clinical trial I'm involved in and the consensus is that I have chemo-induced pneumonitis.  This means that I have to come off the trial.  On the one hand this is a bugger as it was working to control the cancer, but on the other that's not much use if I can't breathe.  The hope is that my breathing will improve as the chemo leaves my system and I've been prescribed a decreasing course of steroids to see me through.  

In a couple of weeks I will consult oncologists at both the Christie and my local hospital to see what, if anything can be done next.  There is at least one chemo I might be able to try but I have to be well enough to handle it.  Time will tell.  At the moment I'm just taking one day at a time and trying to put some weight back on.  At the risk of being totally shallow, as well as all the health palaver, I am not particularly enjoying rocking the scrawny-eyed wassock look.  Some fat, hair and eyelashes would be much appreciated.

At this point, at the risk of sounding like a tearful Oscar winner, I have to thank the other-half, his family, my wonderful (yes I did say that) sisters and friends for their concern, lovely messages and practical help during all this.  I even had fellow metastatic breast cancer pals from my online support group popping in to see me.  You're a lovely bunch you really are.  I appreciate everything even though I don't always show it.

Let's end on a brighter note and totally change the subject.  We have a new addition to the family.  Sis no 1 has adopted a second cat.  He's an elderly gent and doesn't do much other than enjoy being out of the shelter and in a warm, comfortable home.  But honestly, with looks like this, he really doesn't need to do anything.  Ladies and gentlemen I give you ..... Murphy.

No lack of fat, hair or eyelashes there.

No go

I have recently had a birthday.  Here are a couple of (poor quality) photos of presents from sis no 2 and my mate T.  Both were gift wrapped.

I bet you envy me having such caring friends and relations don't you?  

Yep it's fair to say I've been a bit bunged up of late.  Probably due to the liquid morphine I take to help suppress my cough.  In a vague and unsuccessful nod at being modern I bought some looser jeans a few months ago, a sort of cowardly 'boyfriend' fit.  I believe this was in vogue about five years ago, so pretty hip and happening by my standards.  Anyway these looser fit jeans have now become my constipation trousers.  I recommend them.  No fashionista would be without a pair.  Nice and roomy if you catch my drift.

So I don't bother blogging for ages and then I give you an opening paragraph on constipation.  Have you missed me?

I had results from a CT scan a few weeks ago.  I was very surprised and very pleased to learn that there was no change in the disease.  I really was staggered as the breathlessness on any form of exertion (eg brushing my teeth) had me convinced that the cancer in my lungs had been growing apace.  The medical bods then tried me on antibiotics as some inflammation in my lungs was evident but they don't appear to have done anything.  I'm now on a trial week of steroids to see if they help.  They don't seem to have done anything for my breathlessness but I do have a bit more energy thank goodness.  The fatigue has been pretty crushing at times.  To be honest the fatigue has been one of the main reasons I haven't blogged recently.  That and spending all my time in the loo (with scant reward for my efforts).

Oh I lie.  I did get a reward for all my lavatorial efforts.  A fractured rib.  I have pathetic bone density and the strain proved too much.  It's on the mend now but for a couple of days it was ouchy to say the least.

So there you have it, my past few weeks.  Very little gadding about to tell you about.  Although I did go to a vintage wedding.  Look we got dressed up

Somehow the other-half managed to get his (rented) hat coated in horse radish sauce.  There really is no end to his talents.  The hire company haven't said anything ... yet.

I have a whole blissful week ahead of me with no medical appointments.  Hallelujah.  But next week sees another CT scan and I'm afraid I'm not optimistic about the results I'll be getting the week after that.  But whatever I'll keep you informed, whether you like it or not. 

Oh and while I'm being a misog, I'm pretty sure I'm losing my hair again (for the third time) even though it isn't a listed side effect of my current trial chemo.  Arse biscuits!

Ta-ra for now.


 

Waiting game

Picture from here

It's anxious waiting time at Discombobulated Towers.  I've had some of the tests at The Christie to see if I'll be able to get on to a clinical trial and so far, so good. However, I will be going back twice next week for three more tests, so it's not over yet by a long chalk.  

In the event of all being well, my first dose of the trial chemo is scheduled for 29th June, and frankly it can't come a moment too soon.  I've not had any treatment at all for about three weeks now (this is a requirement for getting on the trial) and the deterioration in my health has been pretty marked.  Added to the worsening coughing and breathlessness are pains in my back and the type of fatigue that has me wondering, in my darker moments, how I'm going to cope with the trips to Manchester or even if I'm going to be well enough to start chemo.  There is a temptation to go back to my local hospital and say give me some chemo NOW!  However, this isn't a wise option.  The local oncologist has told me that neither of my two remaining chemo options are likely to be of much benefit to me (in fact the last option has only an 8-10% chance of working).  So I'm hanging on, waiting and hoping for the clinical trial at The Christie.

I do have lighter moments though.  These include:

• Seeing the Eddie Redmayne lookalike onc once more at the Christie and being reassured by how positive he is about the trial
• Spending time with sisters 1, 2 and 3.  *Highlights include; discovering sis no 1 patrolling the garden at dusk, killing slugs while chanting 'double, double, toil and trouble'; sis no 2 and I buying identical handbags and walking around the local open gardens event like two Fashion Girls; introducing sis no 3 to The Sewing Bee and hearing her talk enthusiastically about pvc.
• Watching fluffy TV, like Love, Nina
• Watching bonkers TV, like Versailles 
• Getting Germany in the other-half's family Euro 2016 sweep stake.  Rest assured, I will not let any winnings change me.

*  I have absolutely no confidence in my ability to use semi-colons correctly.  I usually avoid them but today decided to throw caution to the wind (that's the kind of wild devil-may-care person I am).  Feel free to take me to task if I have played fast and loose with this punctuation mine-field.

Disgruntled

Nelly, one of my cats from days of old, who specialised in being grumpy

Today I saw the ophthalmologist, or as I like to call him (for reasons of my inability to pronounce any word with more than two syllables) the eye doctor.  This was after alarm bells were set ringing a few weeks ago when an optician spotted that my pupils didn't match.  Anyway I'm glad to say that the doctor could find nothing sinister and that, coupled with the good results from the recent MRI, means that I can draw a line under that particular experience.
 
The doctor was lovely but ...  Look, I keep toying with the idea of saying nothing that isn't true, kind and helpful (or whatever the saying is) but if I did that I'd never open my mouth.  So out with it.  The doctor was lovely but, bearing in mind he spends a good part of the day getting very close to his patients' faces, I think a good gargle with Listerine wouldn't go amiss.  Luckily my eyes were already watering due to the drops they used as part of the examination so I don't think he guessed that the fumes were close to making me pass out.

Talking of passing out, some old pals from down south visited over the weekend which was lovely.  We went out on Saturday night and although I didn't mix the grape and the grain, I still drank an awful lot of grain.  The highlights of the evening were

• giving a taxi driver a rousing chorus of Those were the days (oh the shame)
• Laughing uproariously when my friend fell down a flight of steps while other people ran to help (she was fine)
• Getting out the felt pens and drawing, yes again, on said friends face when she fell asleep (including one very rude drawing).
  

I've had worse hangovers but it was enough to be going on with.

And now my final moan.  Because I've been coughing a lot I had a chest x-ray over a week ago.  I still  haven't had the results, and yes I have chased.  I've got to ring the hospital again on Friday.  This will be two weeks to get x-ray results.  I'm used to waiting an age for CT scan results but x-rays?  It would've been quicker to just open my mouth extra wide and get someone to do a sketch.  I'm having a CT scan in just over a week anyway so the x-ray is beginning to seem a bit pointless.  

I'm not optimistic about what's going on with my lungs at the mo which is a complete bugger for all the obvious reasons plus it's been so lovely being on a non-chemo treatment.  The thought of returning to the chemo unit and all it's subsequent delights does not fill me with glee.  Still, all will be revealed after the scan - so going by the time it takes them to report on a x-ray that'll probably be around Christmas.  Happy new year.

The Lurgy

I’m starting the New Year in the traditional way, by feeling like a bag of bollocks.  I’ve been fighting off the lurgy for a few days but overnight my immune system waved the white flag and I’ve woken up with a streaming nose, hacking cough and total and utter grumpiness.  

To make matters worse I think they’ve changed the recipe for Lemsip.  I used to love Lemsip.  It almost made having a cold worthwhile but now, due to an ingredient change, or the state of my chemo-altered taste buds, it tastes like a menthol/antiseptic cocktail that’s been mixed in a disintegrating hot water bottle, only worse.

The lurgy does have some consolations though.  I’ve got up early (to spare the other-half having to listen to me cough) and draped myself on the sofa while watching the 1953 version of The War of the Worlds on the telly and, best of all, am snuggled up under a really wonderful present.  This picture doesn’t do it justice, but look what a friend made me, a completely gorgeous quilt.  

 

It’s in exactly the right colours for my sitting room, so even though I’m poorly, I'm colour co-ordinated.  I'm afraid I disgraced myself a little bit and came over all emotional when I was given the quilt but, honestly, what a beautiful gift.  

Talking of wonderful things.  Christmas.  We had a real slap-up, no holds barred, rip-roaring Christmas.  I stayed in a very swanky house with lots of family and friends, including all three of my sisters.  It was a bit of a Downtown Abbey experience (only we were all very good and no-one behaved like arch-bitch Lady Mary).  Just look at where we had our Christmas dinner. 

Yes, it's a wonky picture, but alcohol had been taken

At the risk of sounding as my dad used to say, as soppy as a sack load of bottoms, it was a truly lovely Christmas.  Also, I've now got ideas above my station and won't step outside the front door unless I'm wearing a tiara. 

We took the Christmas-cake-that-nearly-caused-a-divorce-in-the-making with us.  Amazingly most of it was eaten, probably due to the industrial quantities of sherry and brandy it contained.  When it came to cake decoration we decided to go with the true meaning of Christmas and had an Ice Road Truckers theme.  And here it is (another poor photo but you get the gist)

We are now taking orders for next Christmas.  Don't all rush at once.

Since Christmas, normality has returned.  I've come back to a dose of chemo with the usual temperature spike and trip to hospital the following day (New Years Eve).  All was OK and I was released after a thorough checking over, although I could've done without the four attempts to get a cannula in to administer IV antibiotics. 

I've also had a CT scan and am waiting three weeks for the results, which is as usual, scary, scary, scary.  

But for now I'm concentrating on lying on the sofa sniffling.  If anyone wants to buy shares in a tissue factory now's the time.

(Apologies if this blog post is displaying a variety of font sizes, I think my computer has the lurgy too).

Unreliable

Oh dear.  I had hoped to go to Birmingham today to have a mooch around the shops before they get too relentlessly busy but instead I'm taking a leaf out of the cat's book and lounging around on the sofa doing a lot of this

I'm not sure if today's lethargy is chemo related or due to me having a flu jab yesterday.  All I know is I'm not firing on all cylinders.  In reality, compared to what some people suffer on chemo, I'm having a pretty easy time of it on Eribulin (so far).  But it does make me tired and also sends my temperature a bit haywire at times.  As a result I've had to bail out of a few recent social events, which makes me grumpy.  I hate being an unreliable friend but when I'm tired and grumpy it's probably best for everyone if I go into hermit mode.  The good news is that I've got a week off chemo at Christmas time (I wrote a begging email to my oncologist and laid it on with a trowel) so I'm hoping to be full of beans for the festivities, especially as a big family getaway is planned.  All I can say is watch out Hampshire.  You have been warned.  

The other-half and I have risked divorce and done some cooking together in preparation.  You wouldn't believe the blood, sweat and tears (and booze) that have gone into this cake.

We've yet to ice and decorate the cake - so the story continues

Anyway, unreliable as I am, constantly failing to turn up to planned shindigs, I cannot compare with my paternal grandfather.  Sis no 3 has been doing lots of work on the family tree but until recently my grandad was a bit of a mystery.  

The last known picture of my grandad (picture from here)

He walked out on his wife and four children (including my dad) in the early 1920s and was never heard of again.  I had tried to give him the benefit of the doubt over this behaviour (which caused a lot of hardship to his wife and kids) but my sister has finally managed to find out what happened and it's not particularly edifying.  Apparently he ran off to Coventry, Coventry I ask you, (apologies to any Coventry bods reading this).  Other highlights of his life include

• Entering into a bigamous marriage and having another family
• Somehow getting his name on a war memorial in Cardiff as having been killed in action in 1918
• Claiming (and receiving)  the old age pension two years earlier than he should have
• Being convicted of bypassing the electricity meter in his house and thereby defrauding the electricity company

What a total ratbag.  The other-half is dismayed at what sort of family he has married into.  

To finish on a brighter note, the other-half's six year old godson was chatting to us the other day and informed us that he was going to be an indicator in the school play.  Much confusion followed.  Turns out he's playing the innkeeper.

Cheers and jeers

Well what an up and down couple of weeks it's been.

The biggest jeer should be reserved for Alistair Burt, a Conservative Health Minister, who scuppered the passing of a law which would have seen off-patent drugs (for conditions including cancer) made available to the National Health Service (NHS) at low prices.  Not only did Mr Burt filibuster the proposed legislation he also accused his opponents of "shroud waving".  Classy.  You can read more about it by clicking here or just take my word for it that the man is a total and utter shit.

The other crappy thing that happened was of a more personal nature.  I discovered a lump on my chest.  I only had a week or so to wait for the results of my recent CT scan so I knew I'd get answers fairly quickly but it certainly made the days approaching my oncology appointment even more stressful than usual.  Given the appearance of this lump I was convinced that my current chemo, Eribulin, wasn't working.  So imagine my surprise and delight when I was told that the cancer is currently stable.  The oncologist also had a good poke around my chest and said that she thought the lump was bone.  She's getting the radiologist to double check my scan but is fairly confident that the lump is nothing to worry about.  So the plan is now for me to continue on Eribulin and have another CT scan in January.  What a relief. 

Honestly, it was like the sun breaking through the cloud

There was more good news.  You may remember that a while back I was on a drug trial for a chemo called TDM1 (trade name Kadcyla).  This drug worked really well for me for 18 months with very limited side effects.  There has been a lot of hoo-ha about kadcyla due to its cost and there was a very real threat that it would be removed from the Cancer Drugs Fund (CDF) meaning that it wouldn't be available to NHS patients.  However, a decision has been made to keep kadcyla on the CDF. Hallelujah.

Also on the plus side I have been diverted by having all three sisters in the UK and plaguing spending time with me. 

And I've been a right old culture vulture.  On the day before seeing my oncologist I took my mind off things by leaving the sticks and heading to London to see the British Museum's exhibition on the Celts.  Then, just a few days later, I went to Birmingham Museum and Art Gallery to check out the pre-Raphaelites and the Staffordshire Hoard.  While I was in Birmingham I also took the opportunity to visit the new shopping centre but, you will be relieved to hear, I didn't let this sully my pure and academic soul.  Please ignore any malicious rumours that I had to be dragged away sobbing from the cashmere jumpers in John Lewis.

Talking of shopping, it's not long until Christmas you know.  Don't hate me.  I'm trying to help.  You could order some beautiful cards from Ebay.   All proceeds will go to Second Hope (the new and only UK charity specifically for people with metastatic breast cancer).  Go on, you know you want to.


 

Green eyed monster

Yay, it's time for the Annual Shrewsbury Flower Show with it's usual brilliant display of kids' veggie art.  Here's just a few examples.  I've got heaps more of these to come but will save them for future posts, after all I don't want to spoil you.

There were other displays that made me green with jealousy

and hello to the lady in the pink coat

Not to mention the fluorescent loveliness of the park itself

Do not adjust your sets, the colours really are this bright

My sisters came away with plants galore, whereas I came home with, obviously, a two foot tall wooden bunny

Every home should have one

My jealousy of all things floral continued with a visit to some friends in nearby Staffordshire who live in a lovely old cottage.  To make matters worse they have the most gorgeous garden (these photos really don't do it justice) I was positively emerald with envy.

And now on to green eyed monsters of a different sort.  The other-half has been decorating (yes again) this time the bathroom and bedroom.  Cyril, the three legged monster cat, decided to help.  Here's some of his handiwork.

Freshly painted window sills, wooden floors and a delinquent cat definitely do not mix.

OK, on to the tedious medical update.  I had the first dose of my new chemo on Wednesday.  The following day I was back at hospital as my temperature went haywire.  It was much like the time a similar thing happened in Cornwall a few months ago.  Once again, thankfully, my white blood cell count was ok, so the temperature wasn't indicative of a rampant infection.  I had some IV antibiotics and some oral ones to take home just to be on the safe side but the doctors seemed to think it was the result of new chemo on top of old chemo and my body deciding it was all a bit too much to handle.  Anyway, I'm OK now.  We shall see what happens next week when I go back for a swamp juice top up.  Let's hope it doesn't result in this:

Although frankly that would be an improvement on this, a picture of me looking truly dreadful while recuperating, truly I have no pride when it comes to seeking sympathy.

Hello beautiful!

Steamy weekend

As part of the never-ending celebrations of this year being the other-half's half century, we got together last weekend with several of his old childhood chums (also all 50 this year) and headed to the wild delights of Bridgnorth.  In their younger days they misspent a deal of time in this particular town.  This was all before my time so I don't want to know the details, after all what happens in Bridgnorth stays in Bridgnorth.

In between drinking and eating and more drinking we decided to take a trip on the Severn Valley Railway, an old stream railway running between Bridgnorth and Kidderminster, this being the sort of thing that people in their 50s do.  I loved it.

What's not to love?

Although I'm just a little bit too young to remember steam trains being in general use (I am!)  the carriages on the train were just like the ones I remember, all wooden and lovely and with windows that actually opened (unlike today's hermetically sealed trains which almost give me panic attacks).  I only took one interior photo (more on that in a bit) but found this on the internet which is the more or less the same as the train we travelled in and the ones I remember from my childhood. Thems were the days!  Except I never went first class of course.

Picture from here, with apologies for swirly thing

We got off at a village stop and headed straight for the pub.  Where more regrettable aspects of modern life were revealed.  Have you ever seen such a thing as this:

It's a travesty!

I tell you the country is going to hell in a handcart!

While I'm moaning about reprehensible things (like modern trains and 'ploughman's lunches'), the other-half behaved disgracefully on the train.  Look what he did

Look mum,  no head!

To be fair to modern train designers, the above (ie a twit sticking his head out of a moving train) is probably the reason that train windows no longer open and the doors are remotely controlled by hands unseen.  What a nitwit!  We had words.  He was unrepentant.

Anyway it was a lovely weekend and helped keep my mind of this Thursday, when I get the results of the latest CT scans, oh fuck, fuck, fuckity-fuck (which is much like the sound the train made as it trundled through the Shropshire countryside).  Till next time (when I'll be either gleeful or miserable), stay tuned.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hot cockles!

Well my cockles have been well and truly warmed.  The fund raising barn dance (raising money for Breast Cancer Now and Compton Hospice) took place last night, and what a successful evening it was on all fronts!

To start off here's a couple of photos of the two of the cuter attendees who (like many others) had come dressed up to the nines.  Howdy pardners.

So many people made so much effort to ensure the evening was a success that it's hard to know where to start but, at the risk of this turning into a blub-fest worthy of an Oscar winner, here goes:

First and foremost huge thanks to Ian and Amy (the other-half's nephew and his lovely wife) who came up with the idea of the event in the first place and then worked tirelessly to make it a success.  The mere thought of the amount of hard graft they took on makes me want to have a lie down in darkened room.  And they did all this in the same year that they organised their house move from one area of the country to another, their overseas wedding and also their UK wedding celebrations.  Some people are just gluttons for punishment!

Also, thanks to more relations, namely Lee, Lydia, Sam and Gail who helped organise, obtained fantastic raffle prizes and sold heaps of tickets.

Lip-smacking thanks to all the cake makers (cakes were also sold on the night to raise dosh).  There were some fantastic and tasty creations, including industrial quantities of secret-recipe muffins from sis no 1 and cakes bearing the logos of the charities made by the lovely Carmel.  Even the other-half put his chef's hat on:

Big cheers too for the raffle prizes, either supplied by friends and family or obtained by them by going to their employers and local businesses.  Big thanks in particular go to the kind generosity of Virgin Trains.

Thanks to all those who helped set up on the evening, organising things like a well-oiled machine in a very limited time, while I faffed around like a particulary ineffective fart in a thunderstorm.

Thanks too to those who couldn't make it but still gave donations, which were very much appreciated.

And of course the evening would have been nothing without the support of all those who came along.  We had a really good crowd who completely entered into the spirit of things, the dance floor was full all evening from start to finish.

One of the main reasons the dance floor was so busy was the all round excellence of the band, the Slippery Hill Boys and their caller.  I really can't praise them highly enough.  Quite simply they were bloody brilliant and I wouldn't hesitate to recommend them to anyone wanting a hoe-down to remember!  Here they are setting up

And here's the crowd thanking them at the end of the night

So the nitty-gritty.  As the result of everyone's generosity £1400  was raised for the two charities.  I am totally chuffed.  So before I start blubbing and hugging everyone in sight I'll sign off for now with more photos from the night.  Yee-haw!