Caught napping at St John's on Cancer camino

I awoke with a startle as I'd dropped off to sleep again. This time celebrating issue #16 all of 41 years ago. Really, 41 years, what a fossil. No wonder I'm getting my tonsils and teeth out in preparation for some radiotherapy. At my age that's the least I could expect. 

Before I go on I have a just giving page if people want to support Scott. For those who don't know Scott set out to run a marathon and raise money for Macmillan. At this stage we knew nowt about my own cancer, so now I'm begging on his behalf. Hope you don't mind but a £5 or £10 would help him on his way. Thanks

https://www.justgiving.com/page/scott-miller-1716664629103

Simon had got me out in plenty of time. Thank you Mr Kettles. Check in for this early morning departure opens at 7:30am but my last sip of water has now passed so time to write some slander.

Back to my dream, 41 years ago. Is it true that I knew people who wore WWII fanzine t-shirts from 1942, ie 41 years before #16 was published. I thought not. What a fossil I am, and I love it. My Dad's generation never had fanzines in 1942 although comics would come out much more regularly thereafter and he was a huge fan of Thurber's cartoons.

I just can't get past the indulgence of that wonderful whirlwind period of our lives.

Issue #16 encapsulated so much of the Deadbeat madness. Keith and I going up to Inverness, interviewing Will S on the ice rink after the gig, gatecrashing a party, then sleeping at the station at 4am. 

I look at the list of bands inside, the clubs and the people all jump off the page, and they're all in their 20's. I remember Jeremy Thoms trying to get the slider up and running. The review of Emma Thompson at the Fringe. It was all leading up to #17 the Flexi disc issue and our first anniversary as a fanzine. One year old, we'd come of age 

We had all these plans. For the label, to get bands showcases, the venues, to do the compilation tapes to promote them and find pathways for them to exploit.

At this stage I'm still thinking the music industry was one big team of ideas, lyrics, tunes and beats. I wasn't wrong but I think I missed out self interest and a wee tad of bitterness and jealousy whenever a band got signed 🤣.

Suddenly it's 7.30 and I'm called through for pre op stuff with the nurse and the consultant explaining the biopsies and the tonsils. The search for the primary and the targeted radiation. Then it's the dentist talking about removing my teeth, the wisdoms, the back and the front teeth that look like they'd not survive radiation. The teeth need to be in good nick and if there's any hint of infection they'd be bad news coupled with the radiation. 

The anesthetist finished it off by explaining that as a drunk I'd done well to cut my drinking last week but that this was a golden ticket to change and should be grasped. I replied yes, I will do better. From my 100-120 units a week I was at 7 and I said it would be that way or less for the next month.

I saw him again about an hour later and he filled my cannula with a wee drink then a big one. I slept for 3 hours and woke with a mess in my mouth. A tidy mess but it was sore.

The nurses were superb and I got ice which helped numb the pain. The consultant told me about the biopsies and tonsils. They never found anything visible to the eye but hoped the slides would be more helpful. I could care less. I'm neither an oncologist or surgeon. My role in this is patient, so that's what I'll be 

I found out later when Iain came to pick me up I failed on that chore. My migraine that started with the sunny sky resulted just as I was being discharged 6 hours later at 19:30 with a small then violent vomit. Nothing apart from water came up but it cleared my sore head and off we cheerily went to get me home and in bed.

Day 2, Thursday felt like it was going to be tough so I went out for a walk. I met Caitlin in the meadows.

This was a rare treat indeed. Fresh air was fantastic and the chat was good. I was listening a bit more than usual. I was still 17 stone so no violence in the weight reduction as yet. I wandered up to the pitch n putt while she headed to see her pals and a show.

I have so many pills, mouthwash and painkillers to take I felt zero inclination to eat but managed a small juice, manuka honey, avocado and chocolate milk before sliding back to bed.

Day 3 Friday and again I thought it's 48 hours since the op, go to the pitch n putt. Meet Caitlin on Jess Rogan, mother of Brian's, bench.

We met and it was good. I'd had a Weetabix today so was a bit happier than usual. Contrary to the face being bloated I felt a bit better and so continued taking in the air. The speech therapist team at St Johns phoned and explained that days 3-5 were usually the worst for the tonsils. Joy, I laughed as I finished my pitch n putt session.

Saturday saw 72 hours since the op and after a slow start a meander to Portobello and a stroll along the front. My eczema asked for a swim but I gave it a rest.

A great time had with Scott and Simon as I tried (and failed) not to speak. My tongue isn't happy but I had two halves of Guinness and an oat latte. The height of consumerism.

I left them at 8 and headed home for a lovely veggie soup Jackie had made. It was as good as it looks.

Two mugs later I was exhausted.

By 9 I was in bed wrapped in my ice blanket. More antibiotics and a bit of paracetamol.

It's now Sunday  and it's 4am. I've just had Weetabix and tea. Feels almost normal.

I'm back up to 10,000 steps so there's progress but I took it a bit far when I tried to eat ravioli. My first holiday meal with a light chew was a disaster. My dinner companions, Jackie and Keith, were left hanging on every mouthful as I tried to get the miniscule pieces of pasta down my throat like a salmon climbing a tree..

Lesson learnt and I'll stick to swallowing liquidised stuff until my throat is healed. It feels all on one side so I guess the surgeon felt the trauma was best kept to one side. The problems with chewing when you still have stitches on your gum from the wisdoms being removed is the food migrates so matter how small a lump.

Lesson learnt I'm back to soup and no more, "could you box it for me please".

It's Sunday night and to be fair I've got no real pain if I don't eat. I can drink as much fluid as I like but just forget the solids.

It's Monday morning and medication moment. It's 6am and I realise I never took anything after 7pm, not even ice. I poured some soup, tea and Weetabix in along with liquid ibuprofen, ,2 paracetamol and ice. 16/6 so dropped another couple of pounds off somewhere. It's a brutal diet but effective.

I was writing my American dream song last night and through the night. A very angry one about how much of a con it is.

Don't feed your own discontent there's only one f***** becomes president. 

I have always been impressed by the way the American dream has been sold. I think we do not hear enough about what happens when you fail to be the one who wins.

Who cares you have to be the best who cares Lennon isn't wearing a vest

I knew I'd make it, make it somehow everybody knows, knows my name right now

A stuttering conclusion but I like the other verses too about the sports kids who suffer paralysis or die in their teens, pursuing papas dreams.

A triple salko, salko with pike

Didn't mean you to land on that spike.

Throwing that touchdown while they 

Smashed you up 

Won you a wheelchair and a share of the cup.

It's natural selection 

Darwin wouldn't care 

Human insurrection 

Abuse laid bare 

I've also an affectionate dislike of selection processes and how the top performers didn't always make it through because coach makes decisions and they envied you. Put you in a play off at your period worst knowing full well your floodgates would burst. Chucked out of the programme on the whim of a man, who held all the cards in the palm of his hands.

You wrote all those words it was a Pulitzer prize, your teacher stared so enviously into your eyes

She ripped up all the pages, under your nose, scattered in a 1000 pieces on your toes..... 

She sang

Dream a dream you can realise 

Flipping burgers and serving french fries

Don't dream of a Pulitzer prize

You could never ever wear the disguise 

You stand here a BMI fatty

Not gonna work with our glitteratti

Don't dream your own discontent 

There's only one fucker becomes president 

Look at the ring it is a fawney 

It's too small to land on the square

The hoop and the square peg cause such fun

This Fawney game so easily undone.

I love the derivation of the word phony and it's so applicable to this nonsense song of mine.

Originally it was a word, what the Irish used, to describe our gold (brass) wedding band. 

Nowadays I've taken that ring and said it will never fit any hand. I do like the way it gets used as a pawn in the game of switching gold for brass, and leads to the Pretenders, brass in pocket. That's my head, obviously.

Juxtaposing the concept of throwing rings onto hooks appeals to me as everybody knows it's a con and yet for me it encapsulates the American dream. No matter how hard you work at it you will never achieve success. There are a chosen few who have the capacity to become good at a sport and there are even fewer who are chosen to run the business of, and government.

Find your place in the counter culture class learn about friendships and the dream will pass. Live in the moment, breathe in your day, dance to your tune and dance the night away.

Ah yes, it does go on. Like this pain. 

Wednesday & it's August 6th one week on.

It feels like only a week ago that Simon was waving bye bye as he scooted back to Edinburgh in the school holiday rush hour traffic. In my great self absorbed way I forgot to ask him if it had been quieter on the roads.

For all the great activities of yesterday sleep did not become me. Paul and Jimmy gave me the honour of the double bed whole they assumed their positions on the bunk beds. I'd had too many coffee breaks and lay awake until 1am. I awoke with a startle again and it was 02:57. I squinted, then agreed, shit I'm ready to get up.

The craic, driving, walking and swimming was superb yesterday. Embleton is on one level a quiet out of the way place, the vast beaech reminding me of blqckwaterfoot on Arran, endless sand and one other person when I went for my dip.

Pain was well manageable until I ran out of ice. There's a tiny raw piece on the lower deck where they took the wisdom tooth out and also scarred the cheek and tongue. It sang veryloudly when I tried linejuice and salt with the avocado, a trick not to be repeated for a while. It's the only issue I've had so I've been very lucky as the rest of the pain is just like a very sharp elbow in the face at football, irritating but just dull in it's permanence. I once got caught with someone's back swing at golf when I was a stupid pre-teen person. It's a bit like that. In fact it's so much worse than the time Mike Edington tried to have a cheap shot at Arnaldo. It's one of my favourite 15 year old stories. Mike's haymaker caught me square on the cheek and I looked at him laughing and said if that's your best shot get your corner to throw the towel in now. I felt he never said thanks for saving him from inevitable but that's ok. I was happier that I saved Arnaldo from having the story brought up time and again about the time he flattened the would be mauler Mike.

Jaw trauma brings to light many other stories. One time my brother Gordon smashed me and in a split second I had to decide if I lifted him and threw him over the banister head first or take a dive. I pictured in a split second lifting him by the legs and spiking him head first down the stairs and the psychopath in me just stepped away and instead I took the knee. He loved thinking he decked me. I loved thinking I never killed him. Same story, both true and a happy ending.

The other story a few years later was when I was in a taxi with Keith on the way back to Deadbeat central in marchhall road. We were outside the commie pool when a vespa with passenger pulled alongside revving like it was a 750cc powerful thing. I pointed to Keith and laughed. The passenger was less amused, getting off the bike opening the taxi door and breaking my nose. I laughed even more as the taxi driver offered to chase them. When Keith and I were talking about it, the 40 years in between just vanished and it seemed like yesterday. It was so funny. We were in the middle of one of the issues, probably the Flexi disc one, #17,  that celebrates 41 years today. Wow, how the years have passed. I still listen lovingly to the Dancing bears as they sing "looking back on the says when we had such fun, drinking wine in the park, in the warm summer sun". I think Ritchie was probably 19 when he wrote that song, oh how it must sound today when he sings it.

So back to today and we have a long walk to banburgh castle today I think. It's funny being with boys who are getting pissed and I'm so in my own painful wee world that I'm trying to reason with them. I've only been abstaining for 2 weeks but you'd honestly think I'd forgotten how to be a drunk.

As a lifetime alcoholic I find it strange that I could forgot so quickly but as I said to the anaesthetist a week ago when I went from 100 fags a day to zero it was just one of those sad funerals where you love smoking but you have to ditch it as you can't breathe. I think the trick with my addiction processes, always important to understand yourself, is I'm a sweetie jar person. When I was known as pukey McQ, or just Pukey, it was because I'd be sick every night before going to bed so I didn't put on weight or awake with a hangover. Had I known about Cancer I would've forgotten about trying bolemia and gone straight for the most brutal diet of the lot. 

Having watched many others, not least Stuart and Arnaldo's brutal campaigns in the last Cancer Olympics when they both dipped from nearly 12 to borderline 10stone before settling at their healthier looking weights of today. I of course have been a fat greedy, lazy bloater most of my life. If I haven't got a pint in my hand it's a cheese and ham toastie. In my youth it was a pint of milk and a peanut butter sandwich. In my post Camino last 14 years I reach for the wine and tapas. Yes at the certain of my alcoholism is nothing more complicated than greed. There are many people where the chemicals grab a hold. Junkies get a bad name but actually they're a very good social experiment to find out how quickly you can become addicted and which people have the wherewithal to recognise the freefall and who just falls. The documentary series on oxycontin was something I welcomed with open arms. While many of us knew what was going on in the drug industry both here and worldwide very few politicians seemed to want to get involved in fixing it because they hid behind "market forces". Any drug company boss will be as greedy as I'd be with a free bar, free tiramisu, in fact it reminds me of one of my dad's stories. I'll continue to digress as this greed is handed through the generations.

We got a TV when my Dad got to the final of brain of Britain. He would later be on their 60's version of eggheads. The story he tells of being allowed, nae ushered, into the green room is the epitome of greed. At 92 he remembers his 35 year old self being told to pour his own whisky and refill at leisure. What then followed must've been a masterclass in answering the question after the answer had been given. It was all live TV back then so I can only imagine how funny it would've been as this drunken man on the panel would say, " yes Wagner, its the 2nd cycle of the rings trilogy", "yes, Vincent, that's just what I said". Greed saw that he never got invited back but also taught him a valuable lesson about how naturally greedy some of us are.

Back to my days as Pukey not only did I sleep well, I'd also be able to get drinking as early as possible the next day without a hangover.

I'd call myself greedy. There's no trauma inviting me to drink apart from aspirational stuff from when we were kids. We all wanted to have enough money to drink as much and as often. It was our American dream to be able to have cocktails on the beach or vodka and galliano in the st Clair hotel at 16. Many of my fellow alcoholic pals had the same aspirations. Many stopped after 8 pints and went home unaware they were nursing a 120 units a week habit. One of my favourite lines a pal tells me is all his hobbies I volved drink at the end. If a sport didn't have 2 pints afterwards it got dumped, if it had 4 pints afterwards it became a permanent feature. Hence football, badminton and the running club worked for him and squash didnt. Had he joined a different squash club he'd have been fine.

Good news. I can stop slavering, my jaw has settled down.

The great thing in writing this for me is it's my own wee diary but I'm happy people read it. It's a self absorbed load of nonsense with tongue firmly in cheek, not just to stop the pain.

I likened someone recently to having all the empathy of a 747 lying on Lockerbie. Apologies to Lockerbie but Jim and I drove to Blackpool on Christmas day that year and we saw the site and it was an awful sight. It's the closest I'll ever get to the devastating effects that hit Gaza daily, the Ukraine and all the other places where violence at the hands of men with unrestrained testosterone destroy the lives of people. For all the nonsense talked at the Olympics could someone please just call it out at the UN. Oops, slipped into a rant there but that's me all over, self absorbed and allowing that stuff to dictate my emotions. 

Time I did the word teaser from issue #16, now that will test the memory banks.

So it's Thursday morning and I'm not going to hang around while the boys give me food envy with the full English.

Yesterday was a great day of walking, talking, cards, drinks, food, painkillers and great craic.

While they had breakfast in the dunstanburgh hotel I took my Weetabix on Bernard's bench.

It was delicious. A three pack in my wee box, I ate two by the time they'd returned. The other one I left soaking and had it as a wee drink for the rest of the day. 

Quite apt considering how many wheat fields we would walk through.

After leaving Bernard's bench we popped into the golf club for tea then got walking the high route around the edge of the dunstanburgh course.

 Stunning views of the beach and when we arrived we were met by a chorus of cackling chicks awaiting some caterpillars for breakfast.

I tried not to envision the 6 on a skewer ready and cooked but my food envy does go to weird places.

We had been walking through Ferniehill and it was good to be able to get back to the beach and more importantly a pub in low newton for tea.

Next up was the long route to high newton. Instead of 15 mins up the road we went for 30 minutes out to the point and then in the back of the town before settling down in the joiners for beer and sparkling water. 

I tried some mango juice but it wasn't to be. It seems to be a wee sore on my tongue that reacts to any acid and therefore best not to. It looks like the site of one of the biopsies so I'll find out on Tuesday when I head back to oncology.

It's been so largely pain free this last week I've just got to live the dream and stick to liquids although the prune juice was brutal. I got two wee baby food sachets. Carrot was superb, benign and tasted like a liquidised carrot. Prune was too acidic for the cotterised area. So be it I shrugged.

I was less sanguine at the end of the evening when I tried a bowl of soup. It looked benign but trust me, the tears were real. 

Three spoonfuls, three tears, 6 swear words, head in hands then repeat at one minute intervals. What a drama, puir wee puppy.

After the 3-4 pints in high newton we kicked off for the fabled Blink Bonny pub by the railway crossing.

Jimmy's miscounting of the scores as we chased the Ace was proving too comical for words.

It was time to move and the Blink Bonny offered us a two hour drink reprieve in the hot sun.

It was a walk that started well but quickly we realised not every farmer wants walkers nearby. Although they don't miss a chance to advertise their cottage for rent.

The paths as they were, were either overgrown like the Ferniehill or fenced in and had bushes preventing passage. 

It was a bit bizarre but we still enjoyed the very slow going.

At one stage Jimmy did disappear but when we hit a peak he would reappear.

We finally found out way over the wall and onto the busy main road before crossing over the outskirts of Embleton and making it along another quieter road and then a bridal path coming out at the caravan park. 

The last stretch was probably the same length but the time splits suggest we're not good on the fields. 

The overgrown or vanishing pathways were 2 hours while the same distance on the flat was 30 minutes. 

We cared not a jot, we were on our holidays and they were getting merrier by the moment.

I decided to join the Guinness party at the Blink. Paul returned with my half and also a story about change from a tenner after buying 2 pints and a half. The Blink is not a tourist trap. Note to self. 5 star review.

We sat inside played cards then went outside to laugh at Paul's sunburnt coupon.

The wind was too wild so we went in again and to slow both our drinking and sun burning we took to the games room and the 50p pool table. Stop the bus this is Deadbeat for 10p territory. We never put the price up as I really didn't want to. All our inputs went up between 1982 and 1985 so we should have, as by 1986 it became loss making, except for the ads, free gigs and records, I digress.

We played pool and Paul was our champ but Jimmy had his moments. His vision was sufficiently blurred that he started potting from distance!

I knew when I saw my second pint of Guinness my eyes had not been bigger than my belly but threatened the throat tolerance.

We thanked the kind woman for her help in keeping us refreshed and entertained. We wished her and the locals well and wandered back along the road, through another uncut path and into a field with cattle and a well defined path. 

Soon we were back in the greys inn and having our tea. Thank you Northumberland.

Just time for me to squeeze a high tide swim this morning at 5:51am. A quick walk past the green keeper attending to the tee.

It was stunning.

Thank you

Trickle down - the sequel - Bin strikes

As if by magic I get a perfect headline from the paper today about FESTIVAL BIN STRIKES.

This makes me chuckle.

Edinburgh has a hugely successful international festival but we can't find 5.2% or £1290 for our lowest paid.

That's the headline I read but it's not written. Those figures are what I read, but I haven't checked with Unite if they are correct.

The festival might be worth £1bn+ to the local economy and businesses. It might be worth £60m to Edinburgh university but it is not trickling down. We still have workers using foodbanks and on receipt of benefits because they don't earn enough. Most salaries are just short shift wages at minimum wage for seasonal workers in the gig economy. 

The trickle is a drip. The drip/gig economy is not an economical model that builds anything. It's just a fast grab. It the worst of us trying to adopt an out dated model of working for nothing and just be glad you get to be inside the ropes. It's like the volunteers at tennis and golf events.

But back to the impending strike, or should I say the ACAS avoiding conflict.

Some business leaders have taken up the pen in their fight for resolution. Many businesses rely on these summer months for a large portion of their annual income, screams the letter according to the Scotsman.

I think it's almost a balanced report from David Bol the deputy political editor but what is missing is the wider politics of poverty. I remember like yesterday a similar report on the nurses and other workers travelling across town who can't get a bus to their work because the festival is on and buses are full of can't move. 

How can we generate so much for businesses and yet we can't generate an extra 5 2% for the lowest paid or find a way to put extra free transport on for residents.

This is where I think the detailed analysis needs to go. The businesses are not always part of the circus that blazes for 4-6 weeks, they are part of the city, so they are here to both set up then tidy up and put up with what's required to rectify the damage after. Like the workers involved in erecting and then dismantling scaffolding cleaning our streets, restoring our parks, applying the grass seed after the circus goes. 

I walk all over the place in Edinburgh, the Lothians and Fife when I'm not wandering the Camino in France and Spain. I see the joy of tourists walking and exploring the city with the same excitement as Pellegrinas and Pellegrinos on the Camino. I see first hand how many tourists are good and awful. It really is cultural who throws things away and who puts a cigarette butt in their pocket. 

The Camino is like any circus rolling through town and so many "Camino" businesses in Spain have 7-9 month seasons with 4 fully sold out while others can be low or high occupancy. They have to respond to look after the locals in their village who will be there all year around and then the others who are itinerant.

Cardenuela Rio Pico, just outside of Burgos is a perfect example. I've stayed there about 15 times. I'm made to feel like a local by Myriam the owner, a long lost Scottish cousin. I first met the son when he was 7 and I think he's 21 now.

I love this place because the people and the food are superb. The bed and showers perfect and the size matches the setting. Everything is on a different planet from Burgos and I'm always writing and evolving my theory of small business when I'm there. It is the epitome of micro economics and the old fashioned trickle down working.

So then I ask why does trickle down work here. A business has been built to satisfy a growing demand for food and board on the Camino. The Camino is a festival like Edinburgh that has grown and grown. It now has growing pains too.

Often people argue the Camino has got too big, like Edinburgh, but it's not that it's too big, it's bulging in all the wrong places. Like the Scottish parliament building it can split the audience about where it's bulging.

I'm away out for a walk but will continue on my return.

Trickle down and the fatuous growth in economy - how we laugh

I do get frustrated. I'm trying to explain iconic growth means nothing for alleviating poverty.  

Economic growth is largely about measuring how well advertising revenue has increased and how much the techknowledgeology stocks.

That is such a goodness spelling I might keep it as it is indicative of what artificial intelligence can do for us 

I am very impressed with the growth of NVIDIA and the share price. Editor interrution - Fat Al is about to go off on one with the words being interpreted via his phone's microphone. I am even more interest that NVIDIA is so recognized by my speak up application for those blog. I am Scottish and it doesn't always understand what I'm trying to say hence I have excellent type. 

The growth of the technology stocks this down to their sales and in particular the advertising revenue they command. 

The ability for Google and apple they sell the same product with minor enhancements Iran year that should be here on here here next year on year, should be uploaded applaud but it should not influence the economic growth statistics to tell us how successful the nation is doing. 

I clearly need to upgrade my phone to enable it to understand me and built in obsolescence is a standard success story of any product particularly cars. 

Tesla is back moving forward again in the hope that their cars will be given the green light for driverless automation. Set reminds me why in the USA there is a law about g working. Jay walking. I needed to intervene there as sometimes certain expressions seem impossible to say to the speech in temperature on my phone. I need an interpreter. 

The pedestrian is really punished in the USA and driverless cars will punish them more. I am convinced that 8 out of every 10 deaths will be blamed not on the driverless car but on the pedestrian. We shall see. It could be that drinking is still promoted but you are not allowed to walk home in case you cross the road randomly. 

So to my point about growth statistics. We all hope I'm booming economy means we will all be living a better life but that was the 1970s. That was the post war expectation. That is not 2024. When levels of worth diverge to this level there is only a trickle off shore. There is no trickle down. It is now a drop.

The plumbers have arrived and they've fixed those leaky pipes. They've cleaned the drones and nothing is escaping. Wealthy stays with the wealthy and in my humble opinion it's going to make it a healthy time for revolution.

It's no wonder climate activists are confronting bigger targets. Olympic size events get olympic size audiences and if only a handful agree they've followed the marketing beasts beautiful example and just moved on to the next project.

Poverty does simmer and this is a long game. By 2030 we will have missed our goals and by 2050 we will fully be living with economic growth and full planet malfunction. The 1% won't care. Rome is burning but we're in the Ark.

Population migration has existed throughout time and will continue. The means with which to do so will vary but this cycle of kondratiev wave will be better summed up by the term armigeddon. 

AI has already invaded the classroom and the current generation born in this millennium will be using it to run the planet. By the time the universities churn out the graduates of 2030, the 2025 ones will already be shaping the world in their likeness, except it won't be their likeness, it will be through speech typos.

Football supporters think VAR can be bad but what they're missing is the game has changed. Soon VAR will be an ad break. The beautiful game has enough stoppages for ads but it doesn't utilise them. Sports is what we are sold so we can be sold more. The trick is to keep our consumption up on shit we neither want nor can afford.

Look around at the way your pub or club would have a riot over 5 or 6p on a pint 5 years ago, now its £1 and rising. I said to people after COVID don't just move to £4 move to nearer £5. As I look elsewhere £6.50 is fine and £7. It now feels like going into town is an opportunity to be fleeced. I find it astounding that even the supermarket experience is driven by location. The same chain a mile out of town has the temerity to be price sensitive.

Knuckle down, it's gonna be some ride.

In praise and thanks to the staff of our NHS

I'd like to take my fanzine approach a step further. In early May I discovered a lump under my jaw/ear. This swollen gland was still there a week or so later so I made a call to my GP. They offered me an appointment the next day but I was golfing in Fife so I took the next one which was the following Tuesday, May 28th. Next up a fantastic locum decided it merited further consireation so referred me for bloods, X-rays and the Lump clinic. The next day I phoned for the X-ray but it had been cancelled as the lead GP decided it would be best left to the lump clinic to decide on the action. On the wednesday, 29th I got the bloods done. The lump clinic appointment came through almost immediately and my wife opened the envelope and then asked when was I going to tell her. Ha ha, caught out. I duly had an endoscopy and ultrasound followed by biopsies on June 21st. The NHS are certainly moving faster than I did in early May when I wondered whether it was worth bothering about. I got referred for a CT scan by the consultant at Lauriston and a week later on July 3rd, had had the CT scan and was receiving the news that indeed there were cancerous cells, pappalomavirus, whatever else we'd find ot with the PET scan. Being unfamiliar I just took the good news that we were in early. This cancer camino is fast moving I chuckled. Next thing its July 16th and Im having my PET scan. I'm a tad claustrophobic. I was never into S & M as I didn't really want to be tied up and as soon as my body is locked into position panic pokes it wee way into parts of my brain. I occupied my brain with numbers. Not quite the 243 times table I had during the vasectomy but I kept counting backwards and laughing at the thought of telling the story later. Now its July 17th and I'm waiting for the next steps of my camino. I'm thinking radiation may be involved but I've stuck stoically to the speclation is silly and when we here facts they will be acted on. I feel like I'm getting fantastic treatment. I'm sure some people would know of less successful ventures but I'd like to tell my story as I've encountered a lot of fantastic caring professionals who know their job and have kept me informed and moving through the diagnostic process. I am on this camino for whatever length of time and to say I'm enjoying the journey would be to overstate it. I'm in admiration of the professionals I've enountered on the journey and the knowledge I'm picking up. Who knew the PET scanner was in the basement and that you had to sit in a small room while yo were injected with the radioactive solution that would help highlight where the cancer had spread or where it was hiding. I must try and learn the correct terminology. The politicains have kicked the NHS political football about but they keep forgetting how good some of us find the experience. If I was to moan it is nearly 3 months, the first answer I would give under oath is I sat on my hands for the first month. The second answer I would give is its less than 6 weeks from referal. This is diagnosing a problem that, happily, in many cases the answer comes back no problem. That speed of analysis is phenomenal in my view. We only have limited resources to diagnose but as you process through the diagnostic train you see how well oiled it is. Could it be better, I guess if you have machines operating 24 hours a day, 7 days a week and paid 3 times as much for another 3 shifts of nurses, radiographers, consultants etc but then that would involve immigration. I dont know the hours these machines can be used, are they like Taxis or Ryanair planes or do they need downtime to cool down. I look at this infrastructure as I'm lying claustrophobic inside what is a fairly ok donut if I just opened my eyes through the prism of maximising its benefit. I'm thinking if you wanted to use it more you dont just need more staff you need the full security required with 24 hours opening. I'm thinknig loads of things, but most of all, I'm thinking thank fuck its over when the radiographer calls through well done Al, thats it done. Ha Ha, oh what a lot goes throgh my ears in 30 minutes.

So that was good and then I turned up for my answers at oncology. I laughed that here we were on my Dad's 92nd birthday and the best present I could get him was on its way. Treatable yes, while teeth and tonsils no. They will be in the way of the radiation. So next stop was to be the dentist. My own dentist had been well ahead of the game when she suggested a full X-ray to ensure there was no dental reason for the lump. As the X-ray shows my teeth are shocking and the two sleeping wisdom teeth could well cause problems, wisely thought the dentist at the Western.

I concur and along with the rest of my teeth I said they can all go.

We don't know the pathway the radiation will take as they haven't found the primary. The Pet scan revealed nothing which was good news of a sort.

So I'm off to St Johns to get the tonsils and the teeth out. How many I'll find out when I wake up.

I had my pre op assessment yesterday and was delighted my BMI at 35 has me as over weight not obese. I also found out from the ECG I have a good heart. I just wish my 100 units of alcohol a week was regarded better. Abstinence is not my strong suit but a few days of 0-1 pint will doubtless help my chances of not sleeping through the 3 days after my op. 

It'll be July 31st when I wake up a toothless wonder, aka the gummy grinner. It's then likely to be 3 weeks until radiotherapy commences. How much and for how long I don't know but I'm in good hands and delighted to say I've got a good heart.

Would anyone like a pint.

CHANGE and LISTEN

Politicians arrive with promises they fully intend to ignore but what can they do. One of the best promise they can ever make is to listen. Listening is actually FREE. Politicians talking about schools, waiting lists and knife crime as they strive to get elected can relax now. They can stop saying this needs to be sorted and can sit down, listen, discuss then resolve. It is the Police who stand in front of the machete marauding mad man. It is the doctors, nurses and porters who stand in front of their victims, or explain why a hip operation may be a few years away. It is the fire fighters who enter buildings to save people, douse fires and risk their own lives in a way that is extremely generous to the resut of us in society. It is the teachers and classroom assistants who try to raise cash for school outings, books and all the shortfalls in the budget that ensure our children receive as comprehensive an education as they can possibly deliver. So before saying another word, venture forth into your constituencies and listen, before you get you goodie bag and baggie your seat in the chamber. One of the meatiest parts of any election campaign is the focus groups and the statistics they produce. This creates the banner under which the party will perform. In Labour's case it was CHANGE. It seems rather obvious that most things did indeed need to change. Instead of telling doctors to work faster, take short cuts and treat more patients, here's a plan, let's CHANGE. Let's ask how we can deliver. Instead of telling schools that they are failing, incentivising inspectors to identify flaws, here's a plan, let's CHANGE and ask schools how we can deliver. Instead of telling the police to crack down on knife and every other crime, here's a plan, let's CHANGE and ask what needs to be done so we can deliver. Instead of setting up watchdogs for utility companies how about giving them a real reason to CHANGE. A significant equity fining structure that dilutes shareholders but means they still have the funds to invest. Instead of grants for green energy projects make them equity sharing arrangements. Democracy might be at it lowest ebb as this whopping majority came from only 35% of a very small turnout, but it offers us the chance to CHANGE. A democratic forum that looks around Europe and identifies a better voting system than the see-saw of 2-5 Tory prime ministers then a Labour one. The see saw that sees so many people join politics, get 5 years in Westminster then disappear again. Now is the time for CHANGE to let people get the chance to evolve the process so it stops being a late night lonely drinking man's club. We can only expect more from our politicians if we CHANGE the way they work. The ones who have been there a while say "its aye been this way", well here's a plan, take a leaf out of the advice every Minister has ever advised and CHANGE. On behalf of the electorate, Thank you. I will do the long list of suggestions below over the next month or so. Instead of telling Nurses to work faster, Porters to take short cuts and Doctors treat more patients, here's a plan, let's CHANGE. Let's ask how we can deliver. Let's ask the question how can we use the buildings 24 hours a day to utilise the £1m scanners 7 days a week. Let's ask where we can get the resources to rapidly raise the radiographers required. Let's look in the mirror and say immigration. Let's not say yet another national emergency where we need the staff to work 84 hours a week. Let's not tell the staff they must contribute to a pension that is capped so that all the extra cash you pay in means you are effectively taxed at 70% because you pension pot has maxed out. At a stroke removing this ceiling would ensure that more doctors could work in the NHS. Forcing them to do less hours and work privately as locums because the pension cap forces them is madness when you have a labour shortage but what would you do. Instead of setting up watchdogs for utility companies how about giving them a real reason to CHANGE. A significant equity fining structure that dilutes shareholders but means they still have the funds to invest. Instead of grants for green energy projects make them equity sharing arrangements. The most obvious thing in the world was when we bailed out the banks we gave them the cash but not take a stake. We stood behind them but let the price of the shares fall to a level that the market felt acceptable and then let them find a way to pay the government back with a caveat of converting the debt to equity shares at any stage in the 2 years. The government would be obliged to hold for a period but at least they wouldn't buy in at a ridiculous price and yet again provide the city with some free cash. The opposite of privatisation, where we sold our country's assets at a severe discount, when we bailed out the banks we paid a huge premium. This was because the government forgot they could dictate the terms. Somehow the banks conviced them that the bank should dictate the terms. THat's back to POCA in my book and the police should investigate one day. Its almost identical to the theft of the many Tory covid cases that still need investigation. This again would help the government find some cash. Instead of telling the police to crack down on knife and every other crime, here's a plan, let's CHANGE and ask what needs to be done so we can deliver. For example - If you make POCA targets bigger and say all POCA receipts can be used to fund the Police and serve Justice, I think you'd find more money laundering legislation was not required. The Police would be able to find 100 times what they currently do. For every £100m they identify £25m fund new recruits, £25m goes in overtime, 25m goes into the Police Pension and £25m towards legal aid. Drugs policy. Legalise more drugs than tobacco, alcohol and legal highs. Tax them instead. Again hand in hand with POCA, the drugs ceased should be released through licensed vendors or drop in centres. The money raised can be used to fund the drop in centres and residential rehab units we need. Many small gains make a huge difference to our children growing up from an increase in needle return schemes to discarded vapes and other litter. Making it easier for society to contribute to Society is what the RNLI does through its volunteers. Emulating what the Food bank industry, (as sadly it is now an industry) has achieved is a beacon of light for how we can as a society come together, locally and nationally. Finally - stop measuring police performance through arbitary crime statistics. These do not help, they only muddy the waters. Now is the time for all community leaders to join together to say what should be measured, locally and nationally.