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.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Rainy Monday

Golly it's a cold, rainy day here in Shropshire.  I am resisting the urge to turn the central heating on and am spending a lot of time with Cyril (the three legged monster cat) doing this:

Although I did venture out at 9am (9am!) for a heart test at the local hospital.  This is a regular test I have to check that the chemo isn't wrecking my ticker.  All part of the endless delight of living with cancer.  Things still seem OK on that front, so a bit of relief there and I was smiling despite the pouring rain.

How unlike last Wednesday when, to celebrate the other-half's 50th birthday, we spent a total of three hours in the car. which hasn't got air-conditioning, with temperatures in the early 30s touching 36 degrees at some point (thats 98 degress in old money).  Being a delicate English rose (pauses for scornful laughs)  I don't think I've ever experienced that temperature before.  I was wilting.  Thankfully there were no traffic jams if they're had been I think I would have keeled over.  

Anyway the drive was to Stoneywell, a National Trust arts and crafts style property in Leicestershire.  It was beautiful and well worth the sauna-like trip

Not so beautiful was the new look the other-half had adopted to mark his entry into his 50s:

I had a bit of a creative splurge for the other-half's birthday and produced handmade bunting and a handmade card, both of which were too shoddy to be shown here.  Even more shoddy was the birthday cake I made.  The cake didn't rise particularly well but I soldiered on and iced it and put 50 on the top in stars.  However the icing was quite runny and the 50 kept sliding off down the side of the cake.  Sis no 3 pointed out that this was quite apt as, after the age of 50, life is all downhill anyway.  I think it's fair to stay I won't be appearing in the Great British Bake Off anytime soon.

The other-half had lots of lovely presents but one, from his 5 year old godson, was a stroke of genius as those who know Nev will testify:

Apologies for the very poor photograph.  I bought the other-half a half-decent camera for this birthday so I'm hoping that the quality of photos on this blog will improve dramatically in the near future (but don't hold your breath).

Talking of holding your breath something exciting but secret is going on. I hope to be able to reveal something I think is pretty fantastic in the next few weeks.  So stand by.  Ooh I'm such a tease!

Relief and shame

I got my latest scan results yesterday and, considering what I was half-expecting, they were a mighty relief.  

The scan of my head revealed nothing.  Oh shut up.  I do have a brain in there but, hurrah, there was no sign of cancer.  My bones although showing a couple of iffy bits on my ribs (which have been there for at least two years) are OK, in fact the iffy bits have improved so the oncologist still doesn't reckon it's cancer.  My liver (cancer detected there last year) has improved and my lungs (which have had cancer ever since I was first diagnosed just over three years ago) are stable.  The onc reckons my dizziness is due to low blood pressure and my back ache to old age.  Never have I been so happy to have someone tell me I'm an old crock.

This means I carry on with my current chemo, which although causing me fatigue and sometimes an exciting dash in the direction of the bathroom, hasn't caused hair loss or major sickness.

As I was very concerned about the outcome of the latest scans I haven't been planning ahead massively, but that's now changed and already today I've been out and bought some summer clothes and, now I know I'm not going to lose my hair in the near future, have booked a haircut.  My thoughts are now turning towards summer holidays.  Watch out world, I'm on the rampage.

In order to distract me from chewing my non-existent finger nails, the other-half, sis no 3 and I headed out to Cheshire on the day before I got my results to visit Bluebell Cottage Gardens and Nursery.   It was glorious, look

However it's not all joy and bluebells at Discombobulated Towers I'm afraid.  On Wednesday evening Cyril (the three-legged monster cat) caught his first bird.  Thankfully I don't have any pictures as Cyril took his prey next door to give it a good munch there.  He made a quick exit from our garden due to the other-half yelling 'drop it' at him as if he was some kind of obedient dog.  So, I have raised a bully and a murderer.  Where did I go wrong?

The delights of middle-age

One of the nurses I've been speaking to recently as part of the whole cancer blah blah blah said that I was considered quite young to have contracted this shitty disease. She didn't say shitty. I invented that bit, but the bit about me being 'young' was true, honest.

I didn't like to puncture her balloon by telling her that never has middle-age suited someone as much as it does me. In fact I've made three exciting discoveries lately which I was too narrow-minded (ie young and foolish) to try before. I'll share them here in case someone hasn't yet tried them. Go on, have a go, you know you want to.

Cocoa - Proper cocoa mind. None of this sweet drinking chocolate nonsense. It's a bit like milky mud. I'm hardcore me - I don't add sugar at all but you can if you're a bit of a wuss.

Sherry - This stuff hits the spot. So far I've been having dinky glasses of it. But I'm tempted to say sod it and just stick a straw in the bottle and get on with it. It's like cough mixture with a kick. I recommend it.

And finally, and most shamefully:

Jigsaws - They're brilliant. What's not to like? Sorting
the straight edges from the completely wiggly bits (you have to do the outline first or the four horsemen of the apocalypse will be released, everyone knows that), fending off the cat when he wants to sit on the puzzle (or worse still use the box with the as yet unsorted bits as a litter tray) or just snapping at your jigsaw companions (you know who you are) when they hoard the good bits and leave you to do the sky. And just in case you don't think I mean it, look - evidence of a work in progress. It's tricky, I mean it's got a reflection in a lake and everything. I thoroughly recommend hot jigsaw action.

There. Three things to change your lives. No need to thank me.