Meeting Gareth for first time

Well here I am in Peru at long last. A distant dream for the past three years and more. I remember asking Mr Speake before he operated on me in late 2013, whether or not I would ever get back and him telling me that  he would have me back in Peru within a year. It's taken a little bit longer than he thought but thanks to him and Dr McLean I have survived and here I am just as he said. I will have to have a word with him about his timings. But I plan to make the most of it.

My principle reason for being here is to spend time with Heber and Pamela and their son Gareth, who needless to say is a beautiful wee fellow an seems to like me just as much as his dad does. That the boy I knew all those years ago in La Policia de la Familia and in various orphanages in Cusco is now a father himself here in Lima is a matter of wonderment and delight. Despite all the obstacles placed in his way by so many people, despite the many people who didn't believe in him, he has grown up to be a delightful young man and a huge credit to himself and his determination to be a good person and succeed in life.

I spent the day with them yesterday. They make a lovely couple and obviously very much in love. Heber is such a kind person and in Pamela he has found a real soulmate. They are loving parents for Gareth and I have no doubt about their ability to give him a good life even though they are so young themselves. Pamela is 19 years of age. I understand now why Heber didn't want me to meet his girlfriend four years ago!

I've managed to explain my situation health wise to them without causing undue distress, but they are both intelligent young people and were both quite upset. I've left a slight possibility open for a return visit next year as I'm not quite ready to say the worst to them - or to myself for that matter.

Being with them yesterday and spending time with Gareth totally justifies my decision to come here even if I were not able to do anything else. Though I will of course.

They came round to my apartment for a couple of hours. A few minutes after I'd invited them and told them a bit more about my health, and that I'm here for six weeks only, Pamela asked if they could spend every weekend with me. How could I refuse such a beautiful girl. I walked them to their bus after we'd eaten and I noticed that Pamela was crying when I gave her a cuddle.

I love them.

Some pics of my favourite boy in Lima

A baby boy is born in Lima on Xmas Eve

Those of you who have been reading my blog over the years will know a little bit about Heber whom I met with his brother Robin when they were being held by the police in a police station in Cusco where I was working. They were taken in for being street kids and doing shoe shine in the main square, La Plaza de Armas, which the mayor didn't much like as the claimed it upset the tourists. Crap of course but the cops did regular round ups and I saw the same boys back and forth at the police station. Some of the boys were, of course, a bit more naughty than being shoe shine boys but the worst they seemed to be guilty of was a bit of shop lifting or picking the pockets of careless tourists.

Anyway I got to know the boys really well and saw them every year I visited Cusco, sometimes twice a year. I was with them the day their mother/grandmother came to tell them that she would not be taking them back again. She of course had her reasons for this which the boys didn't  or couldn't understand, but we mustn't be hard on her. They had spent the day waiting for her and, as one can imagine were devastated by the betrayal, as they saw it. I had to comfort them as best I could. After that they were in a couple of children's home but their restless spirits never allowed them to settle.

I kept in touch with them in their various wanderings and saw them every year. Eventually Heber moved to Lima to live with an aunt there in  Villa Maria where I was working. I carried on meeting him in Lima and doing my best to support him. He came to my work in Villa Maria but the kids there were not his age group so he only came the once. I saw him most weeks I was in Lima over the last two years there, shopping with him and taking him for meals, which he loved. He told me he had a girl friend called Pamela but I didn't get to meet her.  I last saw him in November 2012 when I last visited Peru. But we've kept in touch online since then with some gaps when he disappeared. He is now 22 years old.

In  January this year Pamela began chatting with me online and told me she knew all about me and how much Heber loved me and that she was his wife; she then sent me a photo of a baby and told me that it was of their son, Alexiz Gareth, who was born on 24 December 2015. Heber then came in - he'd been at work driving a moto taxi, a very dangerous activity which I know having taken a ride in one in Villa Maria - we spoke on the phone for a while, and he brought me up to date on his life. I realised how my Spanish has become somewhat rusty, which I guess is inevitable given it's now four years since I was last in Peru.

They are living with Pamela's mum and dad in Villa Maria, who seem to be very good to them, though I don't imagine they have much themselves, living as they do in Villa Maria, which is essentially a shanty town built in the hills above Lima. It's their version of a favela, of which there are many in Lima. Millions of people live in them. I'm happy for Heber as he now has a family to be part of so I'm hoping it continues that way for him.

He means the world to me and I am very fond of him, as I know he is of me. He knows I have cancer but I've not yet told him that I'm unlikely to recover from it. I'm not looking forward to having that conversation with him. My consultant says I have to tell him the truth, but  she doesn't say what that truth might be. And of course I will tell him the truth painful as it may be for both of us.

I reminded him how we had sat in a cafe in Lima and he told me that he was going to call his first son Donald. He said he did remember but that he will now definitely call his next son Donald. I hope to live long enough to see that happen. Not that I think them having another baby so young is a very good idea.

That's his story brought up to date in so far as I know it.  I'm really looking forward to seeing him again and meeting his child and wife. Incredible that the wee boy I held in my arms, as his mother walked out on him in that police station in Cusco all these years ago is now a father himself. I am very proud of him and of myself for continuing to believe in him and sticking by him as so many left him to fend for himself. He's lost a huge part of his education over the years and this will hold him back. I don't know that there is much can be done about that now, but we will talk about it. I'm pleased to hear from him that Pamela is still in education and he looks after the boy when she is at college.

Is it not amazing that Heber and Pamela had a wee boy on 24 December and a few weeks later Kieran and Kerry had their wee girl on 30 January? As my own life draws to an end (slowly I hasten to add) it makes me very happy to know that a wee boy in Lima and a wee girl in Edinburgh will grow up to know all about me and may benefit from my having met and loved their parents.

That's all for now. I will post some pics on my blog of the wee Peruvian lad soon.

Monsignor Quixote sends me to Peru

My consultant Dr McLean asked me when I saw her in July what I would like to do. I told her I would like to go back to Peru but that I wasn't sure if I had the confidence for it anymore. We had a long discussion on my prognosis, which there is no need to go into here, and on future possible treatment. Would I be prepared to undergo more chemotherapy if she recommended it at some future date? 

She told me that she wanted to do everything in her power to make it possible for me to return to Peru   and that she was happy for me to do so and that she would plan my treatment around my wishes and personal plans. We discussed timings and future scans etc and agreed that a scan before any trip would not be a good idea. If I went my scan could wait until I came back. She didn't think a few weeks would make any difference. 

As you can imagine this kind of conversation is incredibly difficult, as we are really talking about what I should try to do before things get worse, as it seems they inevitably will, and there doesn't seem to be much time left. Dr McLean describes it as taking this window of opportunity to get to Peru, which kind of implies there won't be another one. But lets hope she is wrong on that score. 

Anyway we decided that I needed some time to think about it as it's a such a commitment and we agreed to meet again on 1st of September, which is in a few days time so that I could tell her what I planned. It took me a long time to decide. If I had good health I would have been long gone but I've been dealing with this cancer for three years and three months now and it has had a terrible effect on me physically, emotionally and mentally, in that I have lost so much confidence in my ability to cope with things which previously wouldn't have merited a second thought. 

In  Graham Greene's Monsignor Quixote our hero says to his best friend  Sancho : " I don't want our travels to end. Not before death, Sancho. My ancestor died in his bed. Perhaps he would have lived longer if he had stayed longer on the road. I'm not ready for death, yet, Sancho." 

So Graham Greene, a long time favourite author, made the decision for me. Or at least gave me the courage to get me going. Greene and my wish to see Heber one more time, in view of his news, more of which to come as promised in previous post. See I don't forget these things. 

I have booked my flight and will travel on 21st of September and stay for six weeks. I think this is probably longer than Dr McLean had in mind by a couple of weeks, but I'm sure she won't mind. She says I have lost too much lung capacity to risk going to altitude, so that would seem to rule out a visit to Cusco. I will ask her again but I feel myself that it would be a step too far, much as I would love to wonder around there again. To be a flaneur in Cusco one more time would be good. 

That's my news for now. For the past three years a visit to Peru seemed very unlikely if not impossible. I am very excited to be planning my return there. Over the moon as I would say if I were a footballer. It will be hugely emotional for me in so many ways. This body has let me down in so many ways recently but I've learnt to forgive it and all I ask of it now is to carry me to Peru one more time. Especially as we shall be going together minus travel insurance and I've never asked that of it before. 

A poem for my brother Coinneach

Brother

I am lying in bed beside you

on my side of the line

which you so kindly drew,

imaginary, of course, but real for sure.

Don’t touch me you say,

so I lie quietly waiting

till you fall asleep 

and I can hear you gently breathing.

Softly I place my arm on your back

you continue to sleep, rhythmically

and oblivious of my arm

bravely curled around you.

In the morning I wake up

and find you holding me

wrapped in your arms

and I feel safe there.

Now I dream of those nights 

as my cancer keeps me awake 

and I’m glad that you are

still here caring for me.

Still here

I know it's been a long time and apologies to those of you who have been looking for updates on here over past four months. I've just been through five months of chemotherapy which laid me low to say the least. I was mostly concentrating on getting through each day as best I could knowing that the chemo was my only hope. I usually enjoy writing my blog and other stuff but I was blocked by tiredness, physically and mentally.

Chemo is now over for time being and my latest scan showed that my cancer responded to the treatment, in that all my tumours have reduced by at least one third and some have disappeared altogether. But I did have a multitude of them. Also there are no new nodules elsewhere, so cancer is still restricted to my poor lungs. I will need another scan in six months and a decision on fryer treatment may be required. Meantime I can live a more or less normal life, though my bowel continues to refuse to behave itself and looks as if that will be it's fate.

Meantime Eilidh Donalda is doing well and getting bigger by the day. She is very like her mother and  her dad's younger brother. I see them regularly and they are, all three of them, a highlight of my life.

I have news about Heber in Peru which I will write about in next post or two. I miss him. There is still a possibility of a trip to Peru but my oncologist wants another scan before then, sometime in the autumn. I see her again on 14 July and we will decide then on date for next scan. I am tempted to go to Peru without it but so far have always stuck with her advice, so maybe best to stick with that.

I am planning to go to Stornoway again for eight days on 10 June, with a couple of days in Inverness on my way up, to spend with my pal Kenneth. After that I'm going to London for twelve days at beginning of July, taking in the Marxism Festival over the first weekend. My pal John is coming down for the first few days. Then I'm going back to Cheltenham for a week in mid July. My first return there since I left in 1976. I expect it to be an emotional trip, but one I must do. I'n hoping to go to Stratford to see some Shakespeare afterwards on my way home. I'm driving down to Cheltenham which will be fun, I hope.

All for now. My pal John has just called.

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.