Sausage Sandwich Game

I had lunch with my friend George yesterday and he said that he had met "a meretricious sesquipedalianist inebriated by the exuberance of his own verbosity" which our late father often said to me and I think was also said by Disraeli in the Commons, referring to Gladstone. I think, but if you know different perhaps you could tell me. My spellchecker has never heard of the word. Knew I would beat him/her someday.

George also told me a story about a link between Oscar Wilde and St Peter's Church just along the road from here in Morningside. Apparently, according to George's source, Wilde based the character Dorian Gray on a chap called Edward Gray, who was a friend of his in London. What kind of friendship is not clear. After Wilde's trial Gray trained for the priesthood but was, apparently unable to find a parish prepared to take him, but he had a rich acquaintance who decided to build a church where Gray could be installed as the priest. So he built St Peter's for him and there he served the good people of Edinburgh very happily.

George's sources are impeccable if not implacable, but I have my doubts about the story. I mentioned it to my friend John L when we were having a coffee later yesterday, but he had not heard the story. He tells me that he has a book on the history of the church and will bring it along to the cafe next time. So hopefully light will be cast. I will post a picture of the church sometime soon.


My Saturday morning radio was recently disturbed when Radio Scotland took Janice Forsyth off air. This meant I had to find some new accompaniment for my ironing etc. Saturday mornings on Radio 4 have never been the same since John Peel went and died on us in Cusco. But what a place to go? So R4 was out. I started listening to Danny Baker on Five Live and what a fine broadcaster he turns out to be. Very funny and inventive. He has a weekly feature called the sausage sandwich game which is one of the greatest of all radio games. Not quite as brilliant as Mornington Crescent but in that league. Incidentally does anyone have a copy of the rules for Mornington Crescent? I seem to have mislaid mine, and it's not the kind of game to play without a book of rules.

I've now had my CT scan and await MRI scan on 3rd of June. I've been given a date for my appointment with the consultant, Mr Douglas Speake, on 5th June, a week on Wednesday. So things are progressing, if somewhat slowly, but progressing.

Waiting with Daft Punk

So much time we spend waiting for something to happen. Waiting for planes or trains or buses, waiting for the film or play to start, waiting for that person to arrive, the plumber or the repairman, or your friend who is always late, just generally waiting around for the weather to improve or the good times to start or the bad times to go away. I seem to be doing a lot of waiting these past couple of weeks. Can't say I like it too much. I can think of better things to be doing. I try to keep my mind busy with things but it keeps letting me down. I shall have to give myself a good talking to.

There are some things, of course, which are pleasurable to wait for, and enhance the whole experience. Its all part of the nowness of things. Like the man said. Waiting can be a pleasure. Even waiting for a CT scan? Don't be stupid. But will have to try.

As I wait to head off for my CT scan I'm listening to the new Daft Punk album Random Access Memory. Do we call them albums anymore? Thanks to Iain for telling me about the  iTunes streaming of it last week, after which I went and bought it from HMV. It's a beautiful piece of work. I seem to remember you buying me a Daft Punk cd many years ago Iain and not really being able to appreciate it. This new one is in another league altogether. Fully deserves all the praise it's been getting. One of the best albums I've bought for a while, very relaxing. Thanks Iain, it has helped me forget about things for a while. Which is the whole point sometimes. Good for the concentration too.

My friend John L tells me that CT stands for computerised tomography, tomos being Greek for slice or cut. So I'm away to get digitally sliced and cut today. I will have to wait for the results until after the MRI scan on third of June. More waiting. Well best be off now. Just as well we have the NHS.

A Camera up your Bum

Spending Saturday morning having a colonoscopy procedure is different, but not to be recommended, unless that's your thing, which I'm told it is for some folk. Less traumatic than I had anticipated but I'm glad it's behind me, so to speak.

It is not exactly the most dignified position to be in, eight am Saturday morning flat on your back with some guy poking a camera where no camera has any right to be. And he's accompanied by two nurses, one of whom thought it was a great time to strike up a conversation, and the other is keeping an eye on things, my blood pressure, I think.

Dr Manning seemed like a nice young man, glasses, intense, concentrated look, reassuring, so I let him get on with things as he knew best. Said I could watch things on the screen if I wished. Meantime nusrsie is asking me about the weather, and what my plans are for the rest of the day. I'm thinking to myself this guy has just had his finger up my bum and now he's pushing his camera up there and you expect me to chat away, as if it's just another day, and not forgetting that  I've also got an oxygen mask on. But one does not like to be rude so one does one's best to keep her happy; maybe she's bored. She is very pleasant really and keeps me nice and relaxed.

I decided that I should have a look at what's happening on screen. By this time I'm lying on my back and doctor says progress is good and we're getting there, taking some photos and videos, soon to be on YouTube he says. I can see the view the camera has and it's like going up some bloody, throbbing tunnel. I couldn't believe the size of it. I didn't really take to it, so only watched for a few minutes. It reminded my of some of these documentaries that are sometimes on tele, of operations being carried out, where you can see everything going on, which  I can only watch through my fingers and then turn over to something less stressful.

Doctor says he will be stopping on his way down with the camera to have another good look at the tumour and he will let me know when he gets to it. Which he does so we are looking at it together. It doesn't look good. He says its about 4 cm in size, which is not too big but neither is it very small.

And then it's all over. He wishes me good luck, shakes my hand and away I go to get my tea and toast, my first food for two days. Tastiest toast I've had for some years. I have a memory of Sunday morning back in Aird Tong, and our father allowing us to make toast, holding the slice of bread on a toasting fork up against the old peat fire. Don't know where the old lady would have been, maybe she was unwell that morning. Anyway that was memorable toast too. The best of toast.

A woman I know who works in Morningside library told me that some people pay good money for that kind of procedure. Don't know what kind of friends she has, but I think I can guess. I always had my doubts about her. She wear a cycling helmet at work. What kind of person is that, I ask myself.

Dennis Potter called his tumour, Rupert, after you know who, but I'm not at that stage yet. But open to suggestions.

Meantime things move on at snails pace. My next stop is a CT scan on Thursday and then an MRI scan on Monday third of June. After all that they will tell me how good or bad things are. So maybe two and a bit more weeks to wait.

Wolves and a Morris Marina

I was very sad to see Wolves suffer another relegation. Shouldn't be happening to such an historic team. I've always had a soft spot for them, ever since I was a wee boy, just a few years ago. I was talking to Coinneach about my feelings for Wolves and was pleased, though not surprised to learn that he felt the same way. We were recalling being given a football annual every year back in the fifties, we think it was called Buchan' football annual, but couldn't remember for sure. It was probably another name altogether. If you know the name or used to read it please let me know.

I remember being impressed by the colour of their strip, golden, and their stadium, which was the first picture I ever saw with floodlights. Were they the first to play under floodlights? Anyway I was chuffed to bits that Coinneach had the same memories of Wolves and keeps a wee soft spot for them too. Come on Wolves lets see you get back up where you belong.

Today I got word to go for a colonoscopy on Saturday at 7:30 am. Which seems a bit early but I guess the old NHS is very busy and needs to work every day, morning to night. Not exactly looking forward to the experience but it has to be done. I have to prepare for it over two days and arrive empty bowelled. I've also got word to go for my CT scan on Thursday 23 May, so things are moving.

I sometimes feel as if I'm losing control of my life, that the machine is moving and there's no way to stop it, or to get off, and it will keep going no matter what I say. Lets hope it's a benevolent machine. Once I get these scans done and know exactly what I'm confronting things should become clearer. But at the same time something inside tells me says lets put it off for a while. But that would be just daft. And of course every little thing I feel I think that must be cancer too. Maybe it would be best if I stopped thinking altogether.

I went to work today and am going in again tomorrow but I'm not sure I can cope with much more work after that. I was wiped out by early afternoon and had to go home early. But it was good to see my colleagues at work again, and good to feel their support. Thank you folks, you know who you are.

I'm way too tired to be writing this at night. I usually can only manage to write in the mornings, so this could be last post until I can write in morning again. John Cooper Clarke was on HIGNFY over the weekend. He's 64 now. I saw him a few times back in the eighties. Good to see him looking well. He mentions a Morris Marina in one of his poems. Remember them? I think I once owned one. A wreck it was too.

Shooting Star

Nine years ago I was diagnosed with lung cancer and two months later NHS operated to remove a tumour. Turned out it was benign. It was like being given a new life to live. Those two months were like a living death, especially when the consultant started talking about palliative care. I think he was the oncologist, so maybe he was touting for business.

After that reprieve I promised myself to live a full life and savour every moment. I've tried hard to keep my promise, and I think mostly I've succeeded, but I have to admit there are gaps when I really think I should have done more, enjoyed more, understood more, looked more, felt more, savoured more, seen more, risked more. But on the whole I reckon I can feel happy with my efforts at living life. Could do more, but who couldn't.

I'm not sure yet exactly what I have to confront this time round, need to wait for MRI and CT scans to tell me that, but lets hope it's only bowel cancer and not more, but whatever it is I'm in much better shape emotionally and psychologically to cope with it than I was back in 2004. I think.

So the thing now is to stay positive, which is easy to say as I sit here, but harder to achieve. Incidentally has anyone else noticed how often commentators and interviewees on the BBC begin sentences with the word "so"? It really gets on my goat. So unnecessary people. Get a grip.

I'm listening to Oh Mercy this morning as I wait for my big brother to arrive to visit and take me for lunch. Though he didn't say that lunch was on the cards. Oh Mercy is the album Dylan devotes a chapter to in his biography, Chronicles Volume One, which is definitely worth reading for the musicians amongst you. Have you read it yet Chris K? The stand out tracks are Man in the Long Black Coat, Shooting Star and Political World. Though the rest are worthy tunes too. Someone said I should put links on here to stuff I mention, but I don't think so. Concentrate! It's mostly on YouTube or Spotify if you use that tool, which I don't. I prefer the real thing still.

I was going to sort out my sock drawer this morning rather than write this, anything to distract me, displacement activity, I think it's called, but I realised that this is the best displacement activity, and in any case my socks are multitudinous and will need a major culling to sort, and the Sabbath is not the right day for culling anything.

Speaking of the Sabbath I see that Phillip Roth has announced that at the age of eighty (his birthday is the day before mine) he has given up on writing novels. His novels have kept me going many times over the years. I first read him in the sixties, when I got to know Portnoys Complaint, and have been reading him ever since. He is my favourite novelist, if one can have such a thing. It's hard to believe that I won't ever again be looking forward to the thrill of a new Roth. It's just seems unthinkable. So come on Philip get your finger out and onto that keyboard once more. I may come back to old Mr Roth another time, but if you haven't yet read his 2010 book Nemesis you should do so now.

"Seen a shooting star tonight and I thought of you"

An Important Announcement

I'm listening to the Dylan album Tell Tale Signs, Rare and Unreleased 1989 - 2006, beautiful and inspiring songs, just what I need right now. One can always rely on old Bob to be there in times of tribulation, whatever is going wrong or right. Who else but His Bobness could leave brilliant songs such as these unreleased? Thankfully he saw the error of his ways and put them out there. Cynics among you will say it's only Columbia maximising their profits, but "I don't believe you", as Bob himself  may have said. Maybe he did say that, for all I know. "Only one thing I did wrong, stayed in Mississippi a day too long".

Best version of the song is the one on Tell Tale Signs, but for those of you who don't have the pleasure of owning the album there's a good live version on the old YouTube thingee, just search for Mississippi by Bob Dylan and there it is, as if by magic. What a thing is the interweb. And while you're there you should have a listen to Rab Noakes doing the song live at Celtic Connections in 2012. Quite marvellous. In fact you must listen to Rab, even if its only his guitar playing, but his voice is glorious, and Dylan's lyrics are perfect. Every line a wee gem. I too was once in Rosie's bed, but probably a different Rosie and can't remember one thing she said.

As I've maybe said once or twice before there are not many days that pass when I don't listen to some Dylan, and I reckon I'm going to need him even more over next few weeks.

When I was a boy and some one was diagnosed with cancer the word was never spoken, as if the very use of the word would bring death in it's wake. I don't think there was even a euphemistic word that was used. It was all down to looks and ways of speaking. A bit like Les Dawson and his pal playing the two old women talking about the naughty bits of life. Though more serious of course as cancer was like a death sentence in those far off days. Still is for some I guess.

By the time my father was diagnosed with cancer back in 1983 things had moved on somewhat and we could say the word, though it was still used as little as was deemed absolutely essential. He's been in my thoughts this week as I've had a diagnosis of bowel cancer myself. Which came as a bit of a shock to me. Though the thought crossed my mind over past few weeks, I felt sure the problem was down to my diabetes, but no such easy outs.

The doctor I saw was a nice young man called Dr Sami El-Muhtaseb; likes to be just Dr Sami. He was such a young guy I kept thinking should you not be at school young man? Anyway he spent a good twenty minutes messing about with his fingers, and a camera and probing about vigourously until he seemed quite happy, having called in a young nurse to assist for a few minutes, and then told me to get dressed. He told me that he had found a polyp on my colon, and I thought to myself, well done young man, so what does that mean? And why are you speaking euphemistically, this isn't the Isle of Lewis in the fifties?

He was looking at me in a kind of sad way, as if he wanted to tell me more but just couldn't bring himeself to do it. He seemed upset for me as if he didn't want to be the one giving me bad news. So I asked do you mean that I've got bowel cancer and he said yes you have cancer of the colon. I asked if he could be sure and he said yes I'm sure. We then chatted about what was to be done and what I can expect next. I will be having an MRI scan to check that the cancer isn't spread anywhere else, and a CT scan and then a meeting with the surgeon, who will operate and the oncologist, who will administer any therapy I require. I also need a colonoscopy. So lots of busy times coming up for me. I'm hoping that all this will be over and done with vey quickly but no dates so far. My main wish now is that the MRI scan is done and I get confirmation that it's only cancer of the colon. If so I will rejoice, and feel as if I've had a good result. They tell me cancer of the colon is very treatable. So three cheers for that and for the old NHS.

Dr Sami then introduced me to a Specialist Nurse called Rachel, who again talked me through what to expext and what support was available. I have to admit I had a tear in my eye, but recovered quite quickly. She's given me her card and I've to call anytime I feel the need to talk. She was what can only be described as lovely. I walked from the hospital back to Princes Street in a daze, a state of shock and disbelief. Everything is changed, different, new.

I'm still coming to terms with the new reality. Yesterday I had a suberb walk with my nephew Iain in The Hermitage of Braid, a beautiful woodland, river walk just a few minutes from my home. Thanks Iain for that, really enjoyed our walk, we must do it again soon. As Dennis Potter said "...but the nowness of everything is absolutely wondrous".

I will write some more about how this news has hit me tomorrow. I plan to make a full recovery and be in Peru by Xmas......

From Fergie to Potter

I've been very lazy recently and not written anything on my blog for over a month, which is very bad of me, so apologies to all the good people who have been checking and finding no nourishment. I promise to do better.

Lots of happenings in big wide world since we last spoke and lots of chatter in the media about a few of them so I won't be boring you with more of the same from me, but I can't let Maggie's death go by without a comment, seeing as I spent most of the 80s demonstrating against her and her awful crew. There could not have been many weeks went by without some demo or strike to get involved in. Did we win? Maybe not. Was it worth all the time and effort? Definitely yes. As Simon and his pals say on his wonderful TV show, two hundred per cent yes.

One memory which I must share with you is taking Iain and Anna to see ET at what was then the ABC cinema in Lothian Road. In those days one had to queue outside to get into the cinema. So there we were minding our business, when Anna starts to chant "Maggie, Maggie, Maggie! Out! Out! Out!". Marvellous and priceless. Obviously well brought up that girl. At the movie Iain crawled under the seat, says he dropped something, but I still have my doubts about that one. In the end we all had a good cry as ET left us to go home. Although Iain disputes his tears I think to this day.

And of course yesterday the biggest event of the year so far, when my pal Alex announced his retirement from Man U. I will miss you my good man. Thanks for all the memories over the past 27 years. We will never see your likes again in these parts, flaws and all you are greater than all the rest. Now take a rest and leave Moyes to get on with things.

Tomorrow if you all come back here I shall tell you what's happening in my life. My good friend John Llewelyn was reminding me yesterday about a Dennis Potter interview just before he died in which he spoke about seeing apple blossom "the whitest, frothiest, blossomiest blossom there ever could be". Thanks John and more of Potter and the nowness of things tomorrow. It keeps me going. So come back folks.