Almost Xmas Day

There used to be a television programme called That Was the Week That Was. I feel for me that 2015 was the year that was. An unusual year to say the least,  difficult in the extreme. This time last year I had serious doubts about my capacity to survive another year, let alone continue to enjoy life.  I'm very happy, beyond dreams,  to be sitting here still writing my blog and now looking forward, a little apprehensively perhaps, to 2016. Life has rarely felt so intense or so worth living.

I shall shortly go for a walk to the Pond to see how our geese and ducks and all their friends are getting on. It looks as though I'm going to live to see another brood of cygnets next year. The heron has been back. I saw it couple of weeks ago, so hopefully he or she is around today. A couple of cormorants have been spotted by my friend John, so maybe they will still be there.

After that I'm going to meet Kieran and Kerry for a little Xmas outing. Tomorrow I go to Cupar to enjoy the festivities with Coinneach and co. Fortunately the Scottish government heard I was going to Fife on Xmas day so they've arranged for the Forth bridge to be re-opened for my passage across. Thanks to Nicola our esteemed leader.

I have finished my first cycle of chemo and now have a break for a week before I start the next cycle. I've not suffered any major side effects from the chemo drugs so far, which I'm pleased about. The only problem is the tiredness and constant feeling of exhaustion. But I've got so used to that now that it feels almost normal.

I've not been to any more movies since we last spoke but I'm planning to go to see Carol Emer on Monday. I'm enjoying reading  Sentenced to Life by Clive James, who is surprised to be still around to entertain and delight us. I've got Donald Maciver Paterson's new book of poems called 40 Sonnets as well, which I've been dipping into. He's one of my favourite modern poets and Scottish to boot. I hope you all managed to read Carol Ann Duffy's xmas poem Wren-Boys in the Guardian at the weekend. If not you can find it in the paper online, apart from the BBC one of the best sites around.

All for now. Must empty my washing machine and then head off out to enjoy the winter sunshine.

Three Excellent Films

As I said in my last post I've seen three excellent movies in the last couple of weeks.  Brooklyn is based on the book by Colm Toíbín with script by Nick Hornby. Toíbín is one of my favourite writers and the film does full justice to his novel, set in the Fifties, telling the story of Eilis who emigrates to New York, where she eventually settles down and meets a nice young Italian boy. Ellis is played superbly by Saoirse Ronan, and the film is worth seeing just for her performance alone. Amazing eyes, say so much, definitely an Oscar worthy performance. And look out for Julie Walters as the New York landlady " no more talk of our Lord's complexion at the dinner table". Jim Broadbent is lovely as the priest and Domhnall Gleeson is great as the Irish boy who falls for her charms in Ireland. What a good first name he has to boot?

The Lady in the Van was my next film. Based on Alan Bennett's book of the same name. If you're a fan of Maggie Smith this is certainly for you and if you're not  then this performance from her will surely change your mind. Someone told me it's the best film they've ever seen, which is maybe going a bit far, but it's certainly the best performance I've seen from old Maggie. Aren't we lucky to be around when she is at the top of form. She made me laugh and cry in equal measure. The scene towards the end where she sits down at the piano and plays had me in tears. Beautiful stuff, though I can't now remember what she played, except it was tear inducing. The actor who plays Bennett, Alex Jennings, should not be forgotten, as his performance playing Bennett the writer and Bennett living the life, and arguing with himself in split screen is terrific. Maggie Smith's performance is also worthy of an Oscar. I would have difficulty choosing between the two.

I went to see Bridge of Spies on Monday and thoroughly enjoyed it. True story based on the Gary Powers spy swap back in the early sixties. I knew about Powers and the spy swap but had never heard of the lawyer, played by Tom Hanks, who helped bring it all about. And went on to work for Kennedy's administration, negotiating in Cuba etc. I think that's what they said at the end anyway. Mark Rylance gives a terrific enigmatic performance, as the Russian spy half of the swap.

I was interrupted last night by the Man Utd defeat in Europe. Very poor stuff. van Gaal must go methinks. Anyway Bridge of Spies is well worth an hour or two of your time. "A square meal of a movie" as the good Doctor said in his review.

That's all for now. I was at Ward One today to get checked over for my chemo to start. Would you believe it, all my tests are excellent, all vital signs up to standard, or higher even. Just my luck to be so fit an yet so unwell. But at least the chemo goes ahead and I start tomorrow on these tablets, called Capecitabine. I have to take 1800 mg twice daily, six tabs, twice a day. But I don't need any chemo pumped into my veins this time, which is a big relief.

"bundles of bog cotton"

It's just over a year ago since I was told that my cancer was no longer curable. I must say there were times when I didn't think I would make another year so I am very pleasantly surprised to be still around to continue writing my blog.  I do notice I've written a lot less this year than in previous years but plan to do something about that in the next year. I hope to make it a record year for postings. I notice that last year I wrote 56 and only managed 29 so far this year. Poor showing Donald! The most I've written was 109 in 2010 so let's see if I can manage that many next year.  That will be one of my targets for 2016, seeing as it now looks as if I'm going to make it there.

You may recall that my poem The Spirit of You was accepted for inclusion in the writing anthology being published raising funds for Maggies' Cancer Care Centres. The book is called bundles of bog cotton and is being launched at Maggies' Centre, Glasgow on Friday of this week. I've been invited along as one of the contributors and also invited to read my poem at the launch. This feels like a big honour to me and I'm proud that my wee poem will help to raise funds for Maggies' Centres and continue to do so long after I'm no longer around to boast about it.

According to Tom Leonard the Scottish poet, writer and critic " The book is a mind-opener as well as a locus of solidarity for the cancer affected." I never thought that Tom Leonard would ever read a poem of mine, so thank you Tom, I might even write to you to say thanks. Or maybe you'll read this too and accept my thanks. If I should ever discover that Tom is doing a reading in Edinburgh I shall definitely be going.

I hope I can hold myself together on the day to be able to read the poem and do it justice. I feel very emotional at the best of times nowadays and tears are never far away. The poem means so much to me and brings back memories and thoughts that are sometimes painful. It was written soon after I was told that my cancer was not curable.

Speaking of which I've just had news today that my next round of chemo begins on Wednesday, so that's something to look forward to. Let's all hope that it makes a difference. I know that one of my friends prays for me and another one meditates and includes me in her meditation, so now seems as good a time as any do so. Thank you Neil and Yuri.

I've suddenly found that I can resume my cinema going with some fondness. I've seen three great movies in past couple of weeks so will tell you about them next time we meet.

The Handfasting

The following is the text of the Handfasting ceremony Kieran and Kerry had at their marriage. This was as well as the normal marriage vows and was introduced by the minister as something they had requested specially. She had to amend it slightly as it's an ancient Celtic ceremony with some possibly pagan undertones which the minister felt she couldn't include. Incidentally the minister did an excellent job considering she was given only a few days to prepare it. How she managed to know the cord with one hand only was a piece of magic, I thought. Or expertise of a minister.

The cord they used to do the binding was a long piece of tartan they bought on one of their first dates, if not the first. They had gone to the clan gathering in Holyrood Park and Kieran felt a piece of tartan was appropriate for Kerry to wear or carry. He was in his kilt of course. The Binding was a very romantic touch and typical of the two of them.

This was the only time during the day that I had a tear in my eye. Except maybe when I went to bed and thought about all the times I shared with him since he was eight years old.

"Kerry, take Kierans’s hands palms up,
so you may see the gift that they are to you:

These are the hands of your best friend, young and strong and vibrant with love,
that are holding yours on your wedding day,
as he promises to love you all the days of his life.

Now Kieran, please take Kerry’s hands, palms up,
so you may see the gift that they are to you:

These are the hands of your best friend, smooth, young, and carefree,
that are holding yours on your wedding day,
as she promises to love you all the days of her life.

Now, please join hands so that they may be fasted in the ways of old.
Remember then as your hands are fasted, these are not the ties that bind…

The love already shared by your hearts
Has been strengthened by the vows you have taken
You will be bound by your love and the love of God as you are bound by your clasped hands
From now until the end of your days

[As the following is recited, wrapped  hands with cords]

These are the hands that will passionately love you and cherish you through the years, and with the slightest touch will comfort you like no other.

These are the hands that will work alongside yours, as you build your future together

These are the hands that will hold you whenever illness, fear, or grief may find you.

These are the hands that will give you strength when you need it.

These are the hands that will tenderly hold your children

These are the hands that even when wrinkled and aged, will still be reaching for yours

[Binding is finished and cords are knotted]

Bless these hands that you see before you this day.
May they always reach out with love, gentleness, and respect.
May they build a loving relationship that lasts a lifetime.
May they always be held by one another.

Now, you may remove the cords,
but remember the knot as a lasting symbol of your commitment to one another and to God this day."

The knotted cord was then placed in Kieran's sporran for safe keeping. Let's wish them both a very long and happy life together. I love you both Kieran and Kerry.

"Herring Tales"

Three or four of my mother's sisters were herring girls who worked in various fishing ports down the east coast in the early part of last century. If you don't know who the herring girls were or what they did then you will have to read this book which will tell you all you need to know about them as well as lots of historical, cultural and social history of the herring.

When we were boys herring was often served by my mother. There are many ways to cook it but we mostly had it fried in breadcrumbs, or boiled or salted herring. I remember helping her salt a basin full of herring but never allowed to gut them, in case I chopped a finger off I suppose. The basin was kept in the porch, the coldest room in the house I guess, as no fridges in those far off days. At least not yet in our house, or in our neighbours houses for that matter. Buntàta 's sgadan, (potato and herring). Lovely. My taste buds are awakened by the thought.

Anyway to get back to Herring Tales. I went to the launch of the book when I was up in Stornoway recently. It was written by Donald S Murray who also wrote the play Sequamur which I wrote about in March this year. Donald comes from Ness in Lewis which is why he had a launch in Stornoway Library. I have to say that I would not have expected to be reading a book about herring at this stage of my reading life, given the fact that it's is probably going to be curtailed somewhat. Having said that I'm very glad that I went to his launch that evening in Stornoway and bought his book.

It is very well written, extremely informative and full of interesting stories and history. I have learnt much about herring fishing but especially about the herring girls as I feel an affinity to them and their lives due to the family connection.

I could never understand why the Lewis girls, or so many of them, went to work in the East Coast ports, but now know it was for economic reasons, as pay was higher away from Stornoway. His descriptions of conditions the girls lived in are grim beyond belief and also very sad. They were badly treated and neglected.

You will all be pleased to hear that the girls didn't take it sitting down. Donald describes a number of strikes, including one in Stornoway which the local newspaper described in the following terms "a number of women failed to turnout to their work and the malcontents proceeded to other places and induced - in some cases intimidated - the girls to knock off work" so secondary picketing in Stornoway back then. And the press haven't changed much.  Excellent stuff. And I never knew about it till reading Donald's excellent book.

He describes a number of other strikes improvements in their lives, though never enough. There is a great description of a fight between some island fisher boys and locals in Wick. The fight becomes a bit of a riot and sounds like good fun. It started over an orange as these things often do. The island boys seem to have won, which is only as it should be. The fight seems to have been resumed a week later when the army arrived to restore order.

Donald talks about how the girls used to bring back little (or big) luxury items from their trips away which went some way to improve home life in Lewis. My aunty Ina brought back a clock which sat in our living room at home for 100 years and is now in my brother's house in Cupar. A treasured family possession.

Bob Dylan and Bob Marley also get a mention but you will have to read the book to find out why. But his mention if Marley reminded me of the taxi drivers in  Cusco, forever playing Buffalo Soldier for me. Well at least seems to me they were playing for me.

So thank you Donald for an excellent book, which I can highly recommend if you're looking for a Xmas present for a loved one this year or even if you're not.

I'm off out to see Brooklyn now so very excited. More later.

Kieran and Kerry's Wedding

I will be a winkle gatherer

I saw Dr McLean today. My scan results show that my tumours continue to grow. The biggest is now 17mm diameter, (three quarter inches?) and the rest of them are showing similar growth rates. They have doubled more or less in the past year. The only good news is that there are no new locations and my bowel is cancer free, which just goes to show what a good job Mr Speake did in removing it, given it's size and difficult location. I try not to think how depressing it is that the cancer decided to take a trip up to my lungs instead. That way madness lies, or something. But what a bastard.

Now I have to look to the next stage of my treatment and we've decided to start chemotherapy again, probably in early December. I decided not to delay treatment as she wants to give me six cycles over eighteen weeks, which takes me into spring and I feel it would be best for me to look forward to a treatment free spring and summer rather than worry about Xmas and New Year celebrations and such like nonsense. I will cope with the chemo over the festive period and can then look forward to springtime in Paris or Peru.

Dr McLean asked me about my travels. I thought I saw her raise an eyebrow when I told her Peru was still in my sights but she did not say it was not possible. Just a bit more difficult than before is what I took from her non committalness. Can one say that? Probably not, maybe it's noncommittally.

That's where we're at now so onwards and upwards to a new dawn. Here is my little poem, inspired by my visit home recently.

I will be a winkle gatherer

The river flows still

singing through the valley

from the dark moor and the hills

coursing gently to the sea.

Fountains of clear bright water

all along its steep banks

where we played and fought

and quenched our mighty thirsts.

I will be a winkle gatherer 

and fill the big sacks with him.

I will gather grit from the shore

for mother’s hens to feed on.

And the rain mizzles down

as I wander home now, happy

to see my river

glistening in the setting sun.

By Donald Maciver 

25/09/2015

Slad, Brooklyn and Stoke

Tomorrow is another big day in my cancer life.  I see Dr McLean, my oncologist, to hear her views on my latest scan and I am not looking forward to it one little bit. I doubt I can keep putting off chemo treatment much longer as I'm slowly getting  more breathless, which would seem to suggest my tumours are increasing, though I have had a cold, if not slight flu, so maybe that accounts for some of my breathlessness. I will know in a few hours.

The best I could hope for would be that my tumours have stopped growing altogether, but seems unlikely, so next best would be that growth has slowed down and no chemo necessary until next year. My palliative care doctor suggested I should ask for that delay anyway, but I think I will leave decision on timings to Dr McLean. I remain quietly confident but prepared for the worst. I know its going to catch up with me sooner or later. Later and still later would be best. Obviously.

Some people say the most stupid, silly things to me. I'm not going to list some of the things I don't like and that distress me, just in case some one reading this has said something daft to me or anyone else with cancer. But I have to mention one thing, mainly because I found it so ridiculously awful. I told a woman of my acquaintance that the cancer had spread to my lungs and was no longer curable. To which her response was "how awful, that must be so depressing for you" and she walked away. She has a talent for understatement. There must be a word for it but it escapes me right now.

I've not made it to the cinema much recently. I'm planning to see Brooklyn in next week or so. Based on the book by Colm Tóibín, which I can highly recommend and have probably mentioned in his blog before. I'm looking forward to seeing the movie and if anyone wants to join me you know where to find me. The Good Doctor praises it highly so that's good enough for me.

There was a magnificent film version of Cider with Rosie on the BBC recently, well maybe a month ago. There have been one or two versions of the book that I've seen over the years, but this was by far the best. It's always been one of my favourite books, as I've maybe mentioned before, and to see it brought to life so beautifully was an absolute joy. The young actors playing him as a boy and as a teenager were superb and I'm sure they have a brilliant future ahead of them, and wish I could be around to witness it.

At least I've seen the start of their careers. The kissing scene was a joy to behold. Very well done and very sexy  The mother was terrific as was their teacher who gave a hilarious performance. The whole thing reduced me to tears of joy and happiness/sadness. To cap it all it was filmed in Slad, where Lee was born and it all happened and where I visited in 1974 or '75 when I was living in Cheltenham. Lovely memories of that day and the person I was with. It may still be available on iPlayer but if not I'm sure the beeb will show it again sometime soon, so look out for it. I don't mean that my visit to Slad will be available on iPlayer, at least not yet.

I bought the latest in Dylan's Bootleg Series, vol 12, The Cutting Edge 1965 to 1966. Which is what I've mostly been listening to last night and today and needless to say it's another gem from the genius that is Bob Dylan. I can't thank the man enough for the pleasures of the past fifty or more years. If you're a Dylan fan this is a must buy or steal or whatever folk do nowadays to get their music. There are many rocking, rollicking versions of some of his best songs, it will amaze and pleasure you. I could list them but best if you go listen.

It brought back many memories of my brothers, my parents and life at home and then in Stoke where I was living by the end of 1966. I had no record player there, mind you we didn't at home either, but I had a friend who was a bit of a hell's angel and Dylan lover, and my first hearing of Blonde on Blonde was on his record player. I refused to go on his bike but he didn't seem to mind my lack of faith in his riding abilities and was happy to play Dylan for me. And tape him.

My next post will be a poem. Maybe later tonight as don't wish to overload the www. I continue to read and more about that soon.

Poetry News

I'm very pleased to tell you all that I'm about to become a published poet. My poem The Spirit of You has been accepted for publication in an anthology called Healing Words which should be in print by mid December. It's a fund raising anthology for Maggie's Centres UK. I will let you all know when it becomes available and hopefully many of you will purchase a copy to help Maggies Centres to continue their good work. https://www.maggiescentres.org

I go to a creative writing class at Maggie's Centre here in Edinburgh run by Valerie Gilles, the  Edinburgh Makar, (poet laureate) 2005 to 2008, http://www.valeriegillies.com/index.html

Valerie's classes have been brilliant and a true source of inspiration. So thank you Valerie and thank you Maggie's for putting on the classes.

I posted my poem here on 2nd August, but in case you missed it here it is again:

The Spirit of You

Will I ever find you

will we see each other again.t

To hold you again

to feel you beside me

your fingers on my skin.

To become one with you

reach out and find you there

your dark black eyes

looking down on me

one more time

with that sad look you

seemed to keep for me.

To walk along the river bank again

hiding amongst the trees

the birds singing for us

my heart filled with

the joy of you

the spirit of you.

DONALD MACIVER

2015

donald.maciver@gmail.com

I have a new poem ready to go but will leave it for a few days.

Wedding Plans

I notice that there are only twenty two posts on this blog in 2015, which is the lowest total in a year since 2008, when I wrote twenty six posts, so I'm going to have to pull my socks up and do some writing before year end to catch up. Don't know what happened to me in 2008. Maybe I didn't go to Peru that year, or maybe I was just being lazy.

I have a date for my next scan now on 3rd November and then I see Dr McLean on the 12th November. I'm hoping that the tumours have stopped growing, or at least slowed down, and that there are no new tumours anywhere, and maybe we can delay chemotherapy into 2016. If not I'm prepared for whatever comes my way. And remain confident. Well I have to really.

I went to see the Senior Registrar in the oncology department at the Cancer Centre last week and discussed with her the possibility of having mistletoe therapy along with chemotherapy. Having listened to her and thought carefully about things, I have decided against the mistletoe therapy. I may go back to it later, but for now it's off the cards.

I felt quite relieved having taken this decision, as it had been playing on my mind since I went to Glasgow to talk about it.  I still think that there could be good things to be gained from it, but I have to go along with my oncologists advice. She was well aware of the treatment and knew all about it. She had come across it in her posting in Aberdeen and also from her work in Ireland where it's use is more common than here, but of course they don't have an NHS over there. Germany seems to use it in many oncology departments along with other treatments. At least that's what the fellow in Aberdeen told me, though doctor I saw last week seemed doubtful about that.

That's my health news for today. Amongst other news, those of you who have known me for a few years will be delighted to hear that Kieran is getting married to the very beautiful Kerry on the 14th of November, over there in sunny Lanarkshire, where Kerry hails from. The marriage will be at St Chalmers Church, all welcome, and then on to The Popinjay Hotel for the reception. I will travel over on the Friday and stay a couple of nights in the hotel to save me worrying about travel and health situation on the day.

I'm looking forward to the big event.  I'll need to go and buy a new suit for myself. All the men will be in kilts, naturally, but I just couldn't bring myself to wear one. Not after managing all these years without it. Kieran understands and doesn't mind. I hope he comes with me to choose a suit. It might be dark blue, or navy or grey. Suggestions on a postcard please. I will treat myself to a new tie too.

It's hard for me to believe that it's 23 years since we first met, when he was eight years old, and we went to the bFriends base at his school. When we got back to his house June was waiting for us with his mum and with some degree of anxiousness as there was a party in full swing, singing and bevvies etc. Happy days.

Mistletoe Therapy

It's looking as if  I'm going to make it to 2016 after all. This comes as a vey pleasant surprise and not something I had dared plan for until quite recently. So I'm delighted to be here, sitting at my desk with the hot, unexpected autumn sunshine on my back keeping me warm. The joy of it. It means the world to me to be able to enjoy this Indian summer. I wonder why we call it an Indian summer? So I hope you're all out there enjoying and rejoicing. Thinking of which I should probably be out there myself. Though I did have a very pleasant walk around my favourite pond on Wednesday to see my swans and ducks and all the rest of them. They seemed happy and content. Six cygnets have made it through and they're nearly as big as their parents now. Soon be time for them to go, or be chased away by mum and dad.

Speaking of 2016 I might even live to see my team win another Premier League, now that we're top and going strong. Big game on Sunday though so fingers crossed for that folks. Except those of you with an Arsenal bent, which I know some of you do have. But even if we don't win the league I shall be delighted to get to the end of another season. Have you noticed how van Gaal always uses the shall form? Someone should have a word, though I've come to like it now, so maybe don't have a word after all.

Since we last exchanged news I've had another consultation with Dr McLean, my oncologist. We decided not to commence chemo for time being. I've to have yet another scan at the end of October and I will see her on 12 November to view the results and make another decision on chemo. Its a hard decision to make as she tells me there's a third chance it won't make any difference, a third it might slow the growth and a third it might reduce the size of my tumours. I have more or less decided to go for it, but final decision is on hold. I shall decide on 12 November, as the man would say.

I went home to Lewis a couple of weeks back, of which more later. I was having lunch in The Ceilidh Place in Ullapool as I waited for my ferry but I was't feeling very well so couldn't eat it having ordered fish and chips. There was a youngish couple at the table next to me who noticed I had pushed my plate aside and asked me if there was something wrong with it. I explained that it was probably me and nothing wrong with the food, though I'm not certain that was indeed the case. They had something else. Later we got talking and it turns out that he had had cancer too so we had something in common. I don't normally talk to strangers about my cancer but they seemed like an honourable couple and empathetic, so we exchanged views and experiences.

He told me that the best thing that had happened to him, other than the standard NHS treatments, was his referral to the homeopathic hospital in Glasgow, now called  the NHS Centre for Integrative Care.  He spoke very highly of the doctors there and the treatment he received and how it had helped him. So to cut a long story short I decided to contact them to see if they would accept me as a patient. However the NHS in Scotland only pays for homeopathic treatment for Glasgow patients, don't know why they think this is ok. I will ask Sturgeon to explain next time I see her.

The person I spoke to was very helpful and advised me that they would accept me as a patient if I could get funding from an organisation called Safe Haven and to ask my GP for a referral to them. I discussed it with Dr McLean and she was happy for me to go ahead with it and she would give any information they needed re me treatment and diagnosis. My GP was most helpful and within five days had got me the funding from Safe Haven and sent a referral to the hospital in Glasgow.

Yesterday I had my first consultation lasting nearly two hours. They are advising a treatment called Mistletoe Therapy which will need to be administered intravenously. They only do subcutaneous treatment in Glasgow and the only place to get the treatment is in Aberdeen and as NHS Scotland doesn't pay for me as I don't live in Glasgow, I will have to pay myself.

Given that I've been told my cancer is no longer curable I think I will go ahead with the mistletoe therapy. It won't cure me but it could help me cope with chemo and you never know it may reduce the size of my tumour. I won't know for sure what to expect until I have my first consultation in Aberdeen. I've been in touch with them and have the application forms. More later.

Two Loch Seaforths

When I first left The Island I was fourteen years old and innocent of all vices, well mostly innocent. Now I reminisce about that trip as I sit in the cafe in An Lanntair gallery in Stornoway, gentle rain falling outside, while I finish my bowl of lentil soup, feeling quite nostalgic for those days.

I struggle to control my emotions as I stravaig around the town I once knew so well. Not much has changed really, I would struggle to get lost, so I won't try, but stravaiging is good and it gives me an excuse to use that interesting word, twice. It reminds me of an excellent book by Edmund White, called The Flaneur which is about him stravaiging around Paris. Not quite as romantic as my stravaig around Stornoway in the cold and misty rain, bit if you're a fan of Paris worth an hour or two of your time.

That trip was the first of many voyages across the Minch, too many to count, some very memorable as we plunged through force ten gales, some very boring if not tiresome. We sailed on an old steamer called the Loch Seaforth to Kyle of Lochalsh, and now here I am over fifty years later, returning to The Island, for what I hope won't be my last visit, and also on a vessel called Loch Seaforth, though this one is a brand new vehicle ferry sailing between Ullapool and Stornoway. Coincidence?  as the great man said "take what you have gathered from coincidence ........  it's all over now.....". Maybe not quite all over, but we're getting there.

That trip was courtesy of my Auntie, who was the district nurse in North Tolsta for nearly twenty years. We called her Tosta because my brother couldn't pronounce her name, which in Gaelic was something like Barbara Ann, but her birth certificate says Anna Bella. Anyway she was very good to us all and took us three brothers on similar trips over three years in the early sixties. After an overnight sail to Kyle we took a train to Inverness and from the to Kingussie, in the Cairngorms and then to Glasgow, where we stayed for a few nights with her friends the Horns, one of whom she's known since 1920s.

 It was then that I had my first visit to a cinema as we were not allowed to go to see movies in Stornoway due to the risk of contamination with bad ideas. The film I persuaded my aunt to take me to see was a bio pic of Hank Williams, which I've since seen on DVD. I've seen many films since then but that one I remember best. Maybe because of the transgressive nature of  the event. I don't know if my father ever found out. I can't remember if I went alone or with my aunt. Her views on the movie, if she dd see it, are lost to my memory. So maybe she didn't go.

We then travelled by train to London where we stayed with my uncle Neil for two weeks. The first of many visits I've made to that city but also the most memorable, not that my other visit lacked memories. I can remember everything about that trip and could almost give you a daily diary. But I'm not going to just now, maybe another time, or ask me about next time we meet.

I will draw this to a close now.This is my second visit to the cafe here and it's late now. Well it's ten o'clock so late for a young man. I've had a somewhat emotional day as I went to visit the War Memorial in Point. Of which more later. But it was a successful visit.

Going Home

I've been trying to find a copy of Amazon Beaming which I wrote about in my last posting but without success. Morningside library do not have a copy and tell me that it's not held by any Edinburgh libraries, though it might be in the National Library. It's on Amazon but cheapest one is £62 for a second hand copy and from there the price jumps to  £670. The price on eBay is similar,  so doesn't look as if I'm going to get a copy. If you should happen to have a copy or know where I could lay my hands on one please let me know. Failing that I will read it in the National Library sometime soon.

Last night Emer and I went to the Traverse Theatre to see A Girl is a Half-formed Thing which is based on the award winning book of the same name by Eimear McBride, "an instant classic" according to the Guardian. Emer and I were both hugely impressed by the performance, which was harrowing from start to finish, I was thoroughly exhausted and quite glad when it was all over. I can recommend it but be prepared for some hard hitting drama and not for the faint hearted or children.

Tonight I'm going to the Book Festival with my good friend Anne to see Tracey Thorn talk about her books. She used to be in a band called Everything But The Girl who some of you may remember from the nineties, I think, or thereabouts. She's had two books published in past few years so am looking forward to hear her speak about Dennis Potter and Dusty Springfield amongst other things. Will let you know how it goes. Oh, and I think she also speaks about her singing career. I'm looking forward to it.

Right now I'm packing my bags and getting ready to go home tomorrow. Home being the Isle of Lewis for those of you who don't know. This will be my first trip up there since 2012 and I'm trying hard not to think of it as possibly my last trip there. Whatever way I view it, it's going to be an emotional experience, I think tears are likely when I leave, but will try not to make an idiot of myself crying in the streets. I don't want to let the side down, now, do I?

I'm trying to decide on me reading materials for Lewis. I recently finished Ali Smith's book How to be both and loved it. Great writer, huge imagination, made me want to go to Italy to see the places she set the second (or first) part of the book in. I also just read Colm Toibin's book Nora Webster. Quite brilliant. He's now my favourite living author, since my old pal Roth decided he'd written enough. I think I've just about read all of Colm's books and everyone of them is a great read, definitely recommended.

I'm currently reading Chronicle of a Death Foretold by  Gabriel García Márquez which I saw being performed in La Plaza Isil Theatre in Lima, a few years ago, in Spanish of course. I've not read the novel until now,  even though I always meant to, having enjoyed the performance in Lima but not fully understood it. I'm glad I've remembered now to read it. I shall quote the first line which I'm sure will make you want to read it too:

" On the day they were going to kill him, Santiago Nasar got up at five-thirty in the morning to wait for the boat the bishop was coming on."

Moving On

I write some rubbish then I read it and delete it. This is why you've not heard from me for some time. That and a combination of extreme tiredness and maybe some degree of laziness, and also the Edinburgh Festival keeping me busy and leaving me no time to write and not a lot of surplus energy when I do have time. But the thing is that writing is good therapy for me so I do it anyway and some of it you get to read and most you don't.

I hope you liked my poem a few posts back. I'm not expecting a rush of publishers seeking the rights to my completed works, but there are some more poems which I might inflict on you. So if you want to see them you have to ask nicely.

My plan is also to write some little bits of family history before my time runs out. The plan for it is in my head and on various scraps of paper, so all I have to do is get it out of my head and off the scraps of paper and into my blog. I want to do that before it gets too late, and I feel if I say it here it will be some kind of prompt for me to get on with it.

My memory is not serving me well these past few months when it comes to my writing. It gets increasingly difficult to find the right word to use. I know it's there some where but I struggle to bring it forth from the depths. I eventually just have to move on without it or use a word that isn't quite right. Even Roget and my dictionary don't help much, as you really need a word to begin with.

I seem to be rambling as per usual. All I wanted to say was that I've had a very good Edinburgh Festival this year. I've mostly missed the festival for the past two years because of my various cancer treatments, so it was good to be able to go to so many events and exhibitions this year. I won't bore you with the details but I feel I have to mention one show in particular at the main festival and that's The Encounter.

It's a play based on a book called Amazon Beaming by Petru Popescu about the American explorer/photographer Loren McIntyre who set out to find the source of the Amazon but got lost and accidentally made contact with the Mayoruna people somewhere on the border of Peru and Brazil. It was the South American/Peru connection that drew me to the show and I am thoroughly delighted to have seen it.

The play was written , directed and performed by Simon McBurney based on his interpretation of Amazon Beaming, with the help of brilliant sound technicians. It's a one man performance lasting for two incredible hours where he takes us right into the Amazon forest and river, and to the village where the Mayoruna live. If you ever get the opportunity you should see this astonishing piece of work. I hope to find the time to read the book and also look at some of McIntyre's publications. He studied ethnology at Universidad San Marcos in Lima. Which is nice. He also did discover the source of the Amazon in Apurimac region of Peru and it's named after him, Laguna McIntyre.

The best way to give a flavour of the play is with a little quote taken from the book:

"There was always the same question when opening the unknown: What to do with it?
    Thoughts, thoughts. Like spaceships, whirling somewhere in a sort of suborbital space. Lying in his hammock, shivering from the cold and hearing the sounds made by the tribespeople who were still awake, McIntyre was aware of a subsphere of his mind in which a different species of mental processes, less explicit and formal, were forever meeting, colliding, mixing. The tribe he had just encountered was part of them."

Festival Time

I think I'll just put the kettle on before I start. That's better. Like the old lady used to say, there's only one thing beats a nice cup of tea, and that's another one.

It's festival time here in beautiful Edinburgh and I feel I should make the most of it. But that voice keeps coming back to me and won't let me forget that this could be my last Festival.  I feel reasonably well most of the time, though I'm mostly incredibly tired and lacking in energy. It's difficult to accept  that I will never get my old fitness levels back.  I grieve for my old self and suffer constant feelings of loss for the person who I used to be.

But I've learnt to live with who and what I've become and I'm determined to make the most of whatever time I have left. With that in mind I bought myself a new car, which cost £250 more than I paid for this flat back in 1978. Or was it '77? It's a lovely wee car, Ford Fiesta Titanium Turbo they tell me. Very powerful and too fast, with lots of high tech which I'm finding difficult to come to grips with, but getting there, slowly. My first biggish trip will be up to Isle of Lewis, tickets booked for ferry on 31st August, will drive up on 29th and spend two nights in Inverness then a week in Stornoway.

I've been to see the Lee Miller and Picasso exhibition at the Portrait Gallery and also the Baileys Starburst at the National Gallery, both excellent exhibitions and well worth seeing. Lee Miller was a war photographer, who knew Picasso from about 1937, and from all accounts probably knew him intimately and went on to take many pictures of him over the years that followed. Some great photos here, especially one of the two of them together after Paris was liberated in 1944, when she went direct to his studio having arrived in town with the soldiers she was accompanying.

I loved the David Bailey exhibition. So many people I've known all my life, brought back so many memories, very moving for me. He seems to have known just about everybody worth knowing or sometimes not so worth knowing. Great photos of Stones, with Brian Jones always side on and never full face, maybe he knew he wasn't going to be around for long. Also couple of nice ones of Dylan from 1986. Bailey was born in Leytonstone and started taking photos there in the early 60s of the East End's bombed streets waiting to be rebuilt, landscapes in ruins. My first trip away from Lewis was at that time and I kept looking for myself in any of his pics, but no sign of me.

There's an enormous poster of a photo he took of Alice Cooper with a snake draped around his body from 1977. Alice kept snakes as pets. The snake looks vicious as does Alice. There are also some harrowing photos he took of Ethiopian refugees fleeing to camps in Sudan in 1984, at time Geldof and pals did their massive fund raiser Live Aid.

You will like the one of him and Warhol in bed with Bailey taking the photo. Very strange, but it's what Warhol wanted. Such a laugh. That's all for now as I'm going to my first Festival event, a play at the Traverse called An Oak Tree, by Tim Crouch.

The Spirit of You

The Spirit of You

Will I ever find you

Will we see each other again.

To hold you again

To feel you beside me

Your fingers on my skin.

To become one with you

Reach out and find you there

Your dark black eyes

Looking down on me

One more time

With that sad look you

Seemed to keep for me.

To walk along the river bank again

Hiding amongst the trees

The birds singing for us

My heart filled with

The joy of you

The spirit of you.

by Donald Maciver 

Miles to go

Today was another difficult day with Dr McLean. She does not have the easiest of jobs, that's for sure.  She tells me that all the tumours on my lungs have grown since the last scan. The largest now being 14 mm, grown from about 9 mm. The rest have grown proportionately, the next biggest being about 9 mm and on down to about 6 mm. There are no new ones one my lungs and the cancer has not spread to any other organs. Which I suppose is good news of sorts.

She showed me the scans on her computer screen, this being third time I've seen them, and they definitely look bigger. I can see a clear difference from my last scan, they look more threatening some how. It doesn't make for easy viewing. I am very disappointed as I'd been hoping for a no change result, or at least minor insignificant change. No such luck. 

She would now like to start me on chemotherapy with a view to slowing down the growth or maybe even reduce the size. But there is no guarantee that the chemo would have any effect. It's a case of suck it and see, so to speak. Cancer treatment offers nothing but uncertainties as far as I can make out. It seems to be a question of lets try this or that and see where it takes us. But I have to be upbeat and put my faith in the good doctor. 

I had thought about this possibility before I went to see her, so was prepared and in control of things. Better that I decide on these things than to lose all control of my life.  I asked her if we could delay treatment for a couple of months or three, if this wouldn't make too much difference to my treatment. She agreed to my suggestion and I will go back to see her on 17 September. In meantime I can phone her anytime to begin the treatment should I feel it necessary or should I begin to develop symptoms, or more than I already experience. 

So that's where we are now. I need to make some decisions as to how to spend the next couple of months. The first thing I'm planning is a trip up to the lovely Isle of Lewis, to visit my home land for one last time. I'm planning to go week commencing 2 August. 

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,

But I have promises to keep,

And miles to go before I sleep,

And miles to go before I sleep.

Robert Frost

Dreams

Tomorrow I will see Dr McLean to hear the results of my latest scan. It's four months since last scan when I was told tumours were slowly growing. Let's not worry about infinitives at this time. So let's hope they've not quickened since then. It would be so good to be told that they remain at same size as in March, but I guess that's too much to hope for. But one never knows.

I remain quietly confident but realistic and prepared for whatever she might tell me. Well I think I'm prepared for it. The mind plays tricks on me. I dream every night now, or should I say I am aware of my dreams, sometimes scary dreams, though not nightmares. They frequently take me back to my childhood and youth, and all the places I've lived in over the years, and people I've known. Probably including you.

Sometimes my dreams and real life become entwined when I wake up and I struggle to sort out what's going on. My iPhone alarm goes off on the pillow beside me every day. Today it became part of my dream and it took me ages to work out to turn it off. Quite scary really. I think all the drugs I've been on have upset my psyche and my brain struggles to sort it all out. Maybe I'm dreaming writing this.

I had to spend half a day at Edinburgh Royal Infirmary on Monday to get my diabetes sorted after the steroid effects knocked it out of kilter. I had to start taking insulin, though I've now come off it, I hope for good. As the nurse was showing me how to use the penject I was taken back to days of yore and watching my mother injecting herself with insulin and thinking how I could never manage that.

The doctor I saw was a nice young chap. They're all so young these days, don't you find? It turns out that his father also comes from Isle of Lewis,  from same village as my father. He's going to ask him if he knows my father's family. His father is 62. So you see what I mean about his youth?

I'm now getting calls from Royal Infirmary and Western General hospitals on a daily basis. Can't believe how well looked after I am by health service.

All for now. Celtic have just lost a goal to some Icelandic team, the silly sods.

I will write a post tomorrow to let you all know my scan results.

A Little Wager

For a while back I didn't think I would live long enough see another footie season commence. So I'm delighted to see that I'm still here as another season heaves into view. Incidentally the Guardian was recently taken to task for incorrect use of hoves instead of heaves, so I was particularly keen to impress with my correct usage there.

Yesterday I was feeling more confident about future possibilities than I have for a long time, so thinking about prospects for the new season I popped in to chat with my local bookie and see what he thought the odds were for Man United to win the league. He reckons the odds are 11/2, which seems quite generous, given all the new signings recently. What with Schweinsteiger, Schneiderlin, Depay and Darmian joining us, things are looking very exciting indeed. I will have to teach my Mac Book Pro how to spell all these names for future reference.

I decided that these odds were far too good to miss so I put a small wager on my team to win the league and hope to live to collect my winnings next May 2016. There's confidence for you. Let's hope Dr McLean has good news for me when I see her on Thursday for my scan results. If I win the bet I think I might donate my winnings to young Ben, as he will be getting ready to start secondary school about that time. If I'm not around someone will know what to do with the dosh I'm sure.

Stoke City are 3000/1 to win the league. Seems about right so worth a pound of my hard earned pension. I aim to see both teams in the new season. I feel I'm as well to make plans just like all the rest of you and live as if  I have a long life ahead of me. Though having said that nothing really allows me to forget my cancer.

I was hoping to go to see Amy at the cinema this afternoon, but unfortunately I was not well enough to go out this morning so had to cancel my trip. I hope to go later this week. Will let you know how it goes. I'm off out now and will come home to watch the end of the Open on tele later, and hoping for a Scottish win, so come on Paul Lawrie.

Candy and Ken

Today was my last day in London for now. I'm hoping to come back sometime soon, which is not something I would have said a week ago. Last weekend were the best three days I've had since my first operation and various treatments began in July 2013. I really didn't expect before I left Edinburgh that I would cope so well, in fact I was quite worried about surviving even a couple of days. Seems that my old body has a bit more left to give me. Not a lot, but enough to keep me happy.

The steroids helped for the first four or five days, but they also succeeded in knocking my diabetes out of control, so that the gains from steroids were reversed by my high blood sugar level. I then had to phone Royal Infirmary in Edinburgh for advice from my doctor there. I had to quadruple my intake of diabetes drugs. It's still not back at a good level, so I've been knackered today and yesterday.

I had a quiet day spent partly with the strikers at the National Gallery, who are members of my old Union. I went down to join them on their picket line and to offer some solidarity from Edinburgh. They are on strike against privatisation of their services and also in support of Candy Unwin, one of the shop stewards, who has been victimised and now is fighting to get her job back.

I was very pleased to see that Ken Loach had also turned up today to offer his support. He's obviously a good man, and knows the importance of solidarity. Not wishing to steal his thunder I left my speech in my pocket and let him get on with it. I took his photo instead. He's a short wee fellow. I didn't think the occasion was suitable for an autograph, so I spoke to Candy and wished them success.

I then went for lunch to the Crypt Cafe in St Martin-in-the -Fields church in Trafalgar Square. It was nice and cool, which was just what was required as it was quite humid outside. It was strange having lunch sitting on top of all these tombs. I assume there are bodies still down there, the church having been there since 1726. Quite a wee while. It's a good place for lunch if you're ever passing by and National Gallery is out of bounds through strike action or even if it's not.

Better go to bed now. I wrote this sitting in the Hotel bar, having an orange juice at midnight. Definitely the first time I've been in a bar this late since before my cancer adventure began. So there. That's progress of sorts. Don't you think?

Dusty

I went with John and Lyn to a talk by Allan Gibbons on Dusty Springfield at the Marxism Festival on Sunday night. I'd heard him speak in the past but not for some time so it was good to hear him again. He was very entertaining, informative and hugely funny. A natural performer, who burst into song as the mood took him and as seemed appropriate.

There is a new biography of Dusty just published which inspired him to do the talk. Dusty was one of my favourite singers when I was young. I still remember listening to her in The Springfields when I was but a boy, and then of course she branched out on her own to become one of the greats of her time and since. 

She was a bit of a rebel, a socialist even, who refused to play to segregated audiences when she was sent to South Africa to play, long before anti apartheid movement got under way. When she refused to play she was  deported, but her black South African fans came to the airport and gave her a guard of honour and cheered her to her plane. Cliff Richard, so called christian, had no problems playing out there of course along with many others. Apparently Queen apologised for playing there and were forgiven by Mandela. 

She once knocked Buddy Rich's wig off his head when she slapped him after he punched her. The band awarded her a pair of boxing gloves.

She was once in Post Office Tower restaurant when she saw the manager abuse one of his staff, so she took a jam tart and crushed it into his hand when he came to shake her hand as she was leaving and told him never to treat his staff like that again. Let's hope the waiter didn't get the sack later.

At the end we all sang along with Dusty as she sang "Going Back" by Goffin and King. You can find it on the YouTube thingee. I thought John and Lyn sang mighty lustily. For those of you who are interested there's a BBC4 programme called Definitely Dusty, worth a look.

I'm dedicating this blog posting to my good friend Mo over there in Snohomish. Mo has been a Dusty fan since I've known her. How long now Mo? Any way this ones for you and there's a wee pressie in the post to you from Marxism 2015. Festival. 

London July 2015

This is first time I've updated my blog in London whilst sitting outside in the sunshine. I'm  waiting for JB to finish his breakfast and join me. I'm sitting in Bloomsbury or very close to it and opposite Elizbeth Garrett Anderson Hospital and across from Saint Pancras Parish Church which now seems to have converted into something called The Crypt Gallery. Very spooky. Along the road there's a Sex mAcademy. Wonder what goes on there. No time to find out.

I'm having a very busy time at our Marxism Festival. Some excellent meetings yesterday with great speakers. We had John Rose speaking on Palestine, Richard Bradbury on the Levellers, Diggers and Ranters, our revolutionary history, never taught in schools of course, Alex Callinicos on the Revolutionary Ideas of Karl Marx, an update of book he wrote twenty years go. And in the evening we went to listen to John Molyneux on Rubens & Rembrandt: Art & Revolution, which was a brilliant illustrated talk.

I probably did too much yesterday and was a bit exhausted by time I got to bed, not too late I hasten to add. So will take it easy today, maybe cut back to four talks. We have a big debate at 2 pm between  Stathis Kouvelakis (Syriza Central Committee) and Alex Callinicos, which should be lively after yesterday Greek government decision.

I was in a shop yesterday with John, when one of their staff spoke to me in Spanish so I answered back in Spanish. He was somewhat taken aback as he didn't speak much himself other than Hola amigo qué pasa and obviously didn't expect me to speak any. So he asked me where in South America I was from, was I Argentinian? It's good to know I speak like a South American seeing as I learnt all my Spanish there, or most of it, other than the bits Marian taught me in Edinburgh night classes.  The guy was from Nigeria and a supporter of Scottish independence who wanted to know about the referendum so I left John to explain to him what went wrong.

As I'm writing this outside it's difficult for to see the screen in the sunshine. So no spell check etc. John has just joined me so that's it for now? Shame about our Andy yesterday but the man is just too good for him.
 

Preparing to go to another capital city

Very happy and excited to be getting ready for my London trip tomorrow. Preparations going well so far. My first trip for two years and eight months so much cause for celebrations, especially as doctor at hospital gave me some steroids to take yesterday and I can already feel the benefit, more energy and strength. Keep this up and I might manage another Munro to add to my measly fifteen and brings Peru a bit more into the picture, if Dr McLean brings good news on 23 July. Can you believe we're now deep into July and festival will be almost upon us by time I get back to civilisation. And as my mother used to say not a stroke done yet.

I trust you're all enjoying your summer wherever in the world you happen to be. I think the Edinburgh summer came and went last Wednesday.

I went to the summer exhibition at City Art Centre yesterday, just called Scottish Art, as far as I can remember. It's on all four floors and covers landscape, people, still life and abstraction, with a selection of visitors favourite works in the basement/lower ground floor. It's worth a visit if only to amaze at all the wonderful art produced by Scottish artists over the past hundred or two years. Some very well known paintings , many I've seen before, maybe in other exhibitions or galleries but the kind you can never get tired of seeing. It was very quiet when I went on Tuesday, just a few stragglers  with their weans in tow. I'm sure it will be busy as festival approaches. Give the cafe a miss. It's quite awful, so go across the road to Fruitmarket Gallery instead, which is much cleaner and friendly.

I also went to the Lee Miller and Picasso exhibition at the Portrait Gallery in Queen Street. Some great photos of the man and his entourage caught in very relaxed mode. She seems to have been very close to him and was one of his best friends, enough to photograph him over a thousand times, and he painted her six times, one of which is in the exhibition along with a drawing and many many of her photos. It's wonderful to be able to see so much of their lives so intimately. I will probably have to go back. I'm a member so costs me nothing but is £9.00 if you're not a member so make most of your visit if you decide to go.

I don't get to the cinema as much as in previous lives, but I managed to see Mr Holmes starring the magnificent  Ian McKellen and a young star of the future called Milo Parker, whom I hope to live long enough to see a few more times. Excellent movie, as much about ageing process, friendship and approaching death with dignity as it is about detective story, but that is there to if such is your thing. Go see it for yourselves. I went with my pal Gordon, who told me he was taking me to a 1960 Mexican movie at the Film Festival, but he got his venues mixed up, so we saw Mr Holmes instead and quite frankly between you and me I think it turned out rather well, probably better in fact. But don't mention to Gordon.... I think he's getting older poor thing.

That's all I have time for and I see I've not told you about my art purchase, but remind me and I will do so next time.

The Sudden Wren

Here is a little poem I rather like.

to be a sudden wren

to be the tiny and the fast

to see the endless bounty

within the limitless

and

large

and 

be everything

Billy Childish

Going on

I had my latest scan on Tuesday. Hard to believe that it's four months since my last one. I'm hoping the tumours are still slowly growing. Maybe I shouldn't have split that infinitive, but I'm told people are not so fussy about these things nowadays, and who knows my tumours may take a hint.

I won't know the results until 23rd July as Dr McLean is on holiday part of the time and I myself am going to London on 9th July for eight nights. She offered to see me this week but I decided to stick to original date as don't particularly want to be given a negative result and then travel to London, with it on my mind, bothering me.

This will be my first time away from home since my return from Peru in November 2012. Apart from a couple of nights in Cupar. Which hardly counts as away from home. I'm excitedly looking forward to my trip and hoping my old body doesn't let me down. The signs are currently positive.

It was incredibly difficult coping with my cancer when I thought I was going to be cured. Now that I'm told that a cure is no longer possible I have no idea how I'm able to cope. Some days are hard beyond belief, especially if things are going wrong physically. I tell myself to get on with it and not give up, even when giving up seems the easiest thing to do.

If I have the strength I go for a walk round Morningside or to Blackford Pond, but often I'm only able to cross the road for a coffee in Caffe Nero, or tea and toast in Blackwoods Cafe. I've not been able to visit the swans so often this year, so they've had to look after themselves without my support, though John L keeps me posted on progress. I aim to visit them before I go to London all being well.

I'm lucky to have so many good friends to keep me company and join me for coffee and a natter. There are very few days when I'm not meeting someone or other of my friends. Occasionally I avoid meeting anyone as I need time to myself to reflect quietly and cope with whatever my body is  testing me with at the time.

Thank goodness for Caffe Nero. I do most of my reading there and often chat with my friend John L about various philosophical matters. The staff in the cafe are superb and constantly supportive. Polish, Scottish, Spanish, Italian, Irish, Russian and English. A complete picture as it were.

Speaking of books I'm currently reading Ali Smith's prize winning novel How to be both. Really enjoying it and especially so as she is a Scottish writer, coming from Inverness as she does. Somehow makes the novel even more enjoyable, which is quite silly of course but nevertheless gives me a frisson of extra pleasure, and I need all the frissons I can find. I will try to go to her event at the Book Festival.

I finished reading Colm Tóibín's novel Nora Webster. Also an excellent piece of work, exquisitely heartbreaking. Very moving and typical for those who've read his previous.

All for now. More to follow. I bought an art work the other day.

Blossom

I know there has been an extraordinarily long hiatus in my posts for which you will have to accept my humble apologies. My only excuse is that my feeble, stupid body has been letting me down again and again. The many operations on my bowel are still causing me immense problems even though it's nearly a year since the last one. I have many sleepless nights and hazardous days.

Consequently I am often  afflicted by a terrible tiredness which doesn't just affect me physically but leaves me mentally exhausted so that my brain seems not to function, or functions only very slowly, making everything in life a huge burden, so that sometimes I am hardly able to communicate at all never mind write blog posts,  and  opening emails and my Facebook and Twitter accounts are all I can manage, which is a shame as I've got this brand new MacBook Pro crying out to be put to use.

Some days are worse than others of course. My reading speed was never very fast but has got even slower, so that I'm often still reading The Observer on Wednesday. Mind you I have managed to finish this week's edition this morning, which is good. I am still reading my books but I doubt if I'm going to manage all the ones I've been planning on. There's a pile through there that I'm still hoping to complete before it's too late. I sometimes wonder if having the pile there where I can see them,  a constant reminder, is bad for me. But I can't get rid of them, so will keep telling myself I'm here for a few more years. Let's hope so anyway. Maybe I should stop buying books too. But there again maybe not. Someone will read them I'm sure, if I don't get round to them.

The most difficult part of life right now is the frustration of knowing that the cancer is almost certainly growing, slowly (hopefully), in my lungs but I'm unable to take full advantage of this time, before it all catches up with me, to do some travelling or anything much at all. I'm seeing various different doctors and nurses at the hospital to try to get me sorted but so far without much success. I'm back at the hospital tomorrow for another consultation and more advice and maybe some new ideas. I sure hope so anyway.

I want to go to Stornoway soon, maybe this month and I've eight days booked in London in July. I'm still holding out hope for Peru later this year, I will not decide until after my next scan in a few weeks time, and of course only if my other problem is resolved. I also plan on visits to Stoke, Cheltenham, Manchester, Lake District, Spain, Rome and Glasgow. I should be visiting some of these places as I write, at least that was my original plan for this year, bit I'm still hanging around Morningside. What a blessing that I live in Edinburgh, and Morningside with all its many wonderful  delights. Come and visit and I will show you.

As the late great Dennis Potter said as he approached the end : " I see it is the whitest, frothiest, blossomest, blossom that there ever could be, and I can see it."

Doesn't need explaining really and there's still plenty left for you to go and enjoy and be grateful. I am.

My New Life

I was feeling brave at my last consultation with Dr McLean. We were discussing my scan and having a good look at all the tumours on my lungs, not a lovely experience, and deciding on the best way forward. Which turns out to be a scan in four months time and meantime no treatment.

I asked her how long this could go on for and after some time she said, maybe a year. I think she meant that I could possibly go on like this for a year, but I lost my bottle and didn't ask her to clarify. I guess I was scared she meant I had a year left to live. Having thought about it some more I've decided that she wasn't saying I had a year left to go.

So lets get on with things.

I have decided to start a new life. I think I've probably started a few new lives in the past but none of them consciously or by design. I don't know how long my new life will be. Not as long as my old one, but long enough for me to get some enjoyment out of life. At least it will be once my surgeon sorts out my bowel problems.

The main thing is that I do not intend to let my cancer dominate my new life. Of course that will be difficult at times, especially when I need more treatment, but I'm hoping that is some time in the distant future.

I realise having just said that cancer will not dominate, that its easier said than done.

So I have to have a plan my life a bit more. I will aim to do something interesting or new or exciting everyday.  Sometimes that will be nothing more than meeting a friend for a coffee, going for a meal, maybe a movie, hopefully a few theatre visits, many trips to Edinburgh galleries and museums, and do some travelling. I also plan to complete my family research including my father and his brothers war experiences.

I will of course continue with my blog. I hope that cancer will be less intrusive in my postings for a while at least. I plan to create an iBook. This will be mostly based on my blog postings over the past ten years. And maybe some other  bits and pieces.

When I bought my MacBook Pro I paid for a years one to one training at the Apple shop in Princes Street and I'm really pleased that I did. The young folk who work here are excellent and very helpful and understanding. One of them noticed that my blog would be a year old in August 2016 and told me that we would  celebrate its anniversary. I hope to be here to celebrate with him.

I'm writing this post upstairs in the Apple shop, with views of the Castle behind me and Calton Hill in front. What more could one ask for? This is a good life. Let's hope there's lots more of it to come.