A Baby Arrives

A baby girl was born in Edinburgh last night Friday the 30th of January 2016. Kieran and Kerry are over the proverbial moon as am I. They are leaving hospital as I write and on their way round to visit me before they go to their home. Kieran wants my home to be the first place she visits.

Her name is Eilidh Donalda Collins. Which gives me immense pleasure. I'm so pleased to know that my name will live on through her. I hope Heber in Peru doesn't forget that he promised to name his first son after me. Heber made contact with me couple of weeks back but has disappeared again. I still hope to see him one more time.

I have had the first piece of good news from the hospital in a very long time. I completed the first two cycles of chemotherapy and had a scan last Monday. I saw my oncologist on Thursday and the scan shows some shrinkage in my tumours, so the chemo is working. I had to have a two week break in my treatment as the chemo was causing unwanted harm to various parts as well as causing me to be tired beyond belief.

I restarted my chemo yesterday and will have four more cycles which will go on till end of April. I'm hoping that four more cycles will shrink the tumours even more. So some reason for hope and cause for a little rejoicing, what with Eilidh's safe arrival and my good news and Man U winning for a change all is well in my world. Shame about the rest of the world though.

I need to go now as my visitors are here.

Happy New Year 2016

Happy New Year one and all. And thank you to all who take the time to read my blog. I appreciate your effort and I will try not to bore you with cancer tales, of which I have many, and which sometimes cannot be avoided.

I started this blog in 2006, so I'm now entering my tenth year as a blogger. My first post was in 2006, not quite ten years ago, but who's counting. Much has happened, many travels, in the intervening years, the travels being the original point of it all.  Looking back over those years there is nothing I would change. Maybe the odd mistake here and there that could have been avoided and one or two false leads taking me to dead ends. But really substantially nothing I would do differently.

I have published 575 posts, plus a few more I didn't publish for one reason or another. My blog has been read 27,419 times which impresses me no end. Not the millions some folk get for one stupid tweet, but a quality audience. I feel I know everyone who reads my bletherings. My spell check is working today and seems to think that blethering is already plural. I beg to differ. Most readers are based in UK, USA and Peru, not surprisingly.

But I've had readers all over the world, so I can't honestly say I know you all. I have readers in Spain, Germany, China, Japan, Singapore, France, Pakistan, Colombia, Ukraine, Ireland and other spots. I know someone in all these countries. There are other countries featured from time to time such as Taiwan and South Korea where I don't know anyone or at least cannot recall. Maybe you are a troll or what's the word again for bad people messing with things online? Spammers or bastards?

I've had many messages, emails, texts of one sort or another. I've had a beautiful email from my friend Flor in Lima who continues to work with the young people of Lima though now with a different organisation, but still government based. Had things worked out for me I would be with her now, sharing more good times. Flor, I aim to be with you this year. I won't be fit to work with you and the kids, but we might take them to the cinema again and have party.

I've had a message from Claudia, my Spanish teacher over the years, in Cuzco. Now back in her home city of Montevideo, Uruguay. I hope to visit her there. If I make it back to South America I will. My good friend Yuri has sent me a lovely message from her home in Japan. I had meant to visit Yuri in Japan, but that seems unlikely to happen now. Yuri hopes to be in Edinburgh this year so I look forward to that.

Thank you to everyone else who has sent me messages and cards. I can't list you all, but you're all important to me. I feel blessed to have so many friends around the world. I've had the huge pleasure over the festive period of meeting up with some old friends, many of whom I had not seen for years. You know who you are. Thank you for being there.

I must mention my friend Jane, who is now in hospital and bravely facing an uncertain future. I know Jane won't like me using the word brave, but there it is Jane and it's the best word I can find right now. So you know you're in my thoughts. No getting bevied in hospital now Jane!

Finally I read the other day that Henry V did not say " God for Harry, England and St George!". Apparently he said "Fellas, let's go!". That Will chap making things up again.

And finally, finally, as I may have said before I'm very happy to be here still able to write and aim to be here on New Years Day 2017. Fellas lets go for it.

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.