Sunday a day of rest

Well I would say that wouldn't I. 

Scott Miller has just finished his marathon and today I plan to keep it under 3000 steps.

I plan to eat and watch football.

At 61 and 15 years of resting in an early retirement that has seen us enjoy all the fun of the last 15 years while we had the health to do it, knowing that working was fun and those ambitious memories of creating something special in Stocktrade would pass.

Yes, learning to live in the moment, whether it be a care, care less or carefree moment, just live in that moment.

I think that's what Kuharevych was up to in his stuttering run up for the penalty at Ibrox. He certainly waited for the keeper to dive (the right way) before kicking it. It's hard to believe but that looks like one of mine.

With Hibs losing 1-0 to be given a penalty when Soutar nudges the ball with his elbow was impressive VAR. Just like their overturning of the offside when Lawrence scored and not making it a red when Triantis won the ball in a tackle VAR has three from three in this game.

For me as our Kook held his head in his moment of shame, I was reminded I need to do my mouth exercises, so exercise I did. How circular the world is.

So it's quite restful today but not completely. I got my teeth done between 5.15am and 7am. They are really feeling different from usual and if I look back to earlier in this process probably less stained. You could argue it's a few months now since I had a bottle of wine. I've had 2 bottles in the last 5 months.

Today is about drinking water and shakes. These shakes are 400 calories not the 2000 I thought they were but it does seem I need to have over 3000 calories to maintain the weight, so between my many snacks I just have to keep consuming. As a natural couch potato it's proved easy today.

Yesterday I played golf and finished my steps for the calendar week at 81,000 which was a huge step up on the 42k the week before and the 50k I've been slouching along at recently.

I discovered Guinness 0.0 yesterday. It's hardly a health drink but if they tinkered with it a bit more I'm sure it would open up the increasingly large health conscious drunks like me. 2 pints was all I could manage but it made a change from water.

I might use my spare steps to go to the office licence and buy some. 

Ipswich were superb against villa and it was swiftly followed by Spurs at old Trafford. 

Spurs were as superb as Man u were abject. When Fernandez headed for the shower his team mates looked like they envied him his early exit. I think they're exhausted before they start.

I think they need a hospital visit, that or some avocado and boiled egg. They just look like they've got better things to do and they probably do. It's Sunday and they probably hoped they'd be watching the 4:30 game. Personally, from this angle, they are watching it. 

They've got a great view of the action inside the ropes but I think they probably need to realise they are part of the theatre not the audience.

Half way on the treatment timetable, 15/30 my bald patch gets bigger while the tumour gets smaller

15 of 30 today and something you feel requires a ceremony. Truth is halfway in my head has always been the end of treatment. I feel week 5 and the chemo double shift is what I'd call the real starting grid. Everything has just been prep until then. 

Judging by my blogging it's certainly been a good bit of preparation to get here and I've met so many fantastic people on the journey. They have been the difference between me being prepared or not for what comes next so a huge thanks to all the staff at all 4 locations in Edinburgh and Livingston, as well as the bus drivers, family and friends and the footpaths of Edinburgh.

Ask me at the end of the next 5 weeks is how I'd bill it.

Those two treatment weeks, 5 & 6 and the two weeks that follow are the most brutal stages that most people tell you about. Getting  my 61 year old self in the best shape possible for that week 5 is what this has always been about.

The amateur skelly-eyed sleuths, the patients who have done it and the professionals who watch on all say that's when the body needs to be at its best because that's when it's hammered the most. You'll be on your knees and struggling to get food into that ever shrinking gob of yours. I'm still doing my mouth Olympics and it's so tough. 

It's not just energy sapping it's trying to go through a wee bit of Orange Juice with Edwyn singing rip it up, ripping up your throat again, arghhh arghhh arghhh.

I've got to tip my hat to Reflexology and Reiki here as Ruth has undoubtedly relaxed the jaw enough to get me to still manage a wee bit of the Andy Murray. On Monday I was down to 2 fingers from 4 when I did the measurements. Yesterday however I was back up to three of my fat fingers and it might be sore but these people know their stuff and I remember Stuart with that chocolate biscuit at Arnaldo's. I've already hit my top lip last weekend with cheesecake as I tried to shovel it in. You have muscle memory in the spoon and your hand but you need a mirror to see how shut your mouth actually is. As people who have seen me eat know, it's not a spectator sport and a mirror would be too much of a horror story for me to realise I've put people through that for 60 years. No wonder my siblings never put me in the middle of the table at family gatherings.

Enough of the horror, let's get back to the party atmosphere. In my head I'm buzzing.

So sod it I'm off to Paris with my skelly eye, neck tan and shedding beard for the weekend.

I'll have a modest celebration, go to all the old haunts, dream a little longer, then get my head back down for week 4. 

Paris was my city break during the 80's. Compared to London it was paradise back then. I was there a couple of times every year and later on during the 90's I'd stop off on the way to Limoges on my own or if we had the car we'd take in Versailles, Euro Disney or wherever. Who can forget Caitlin's face when Jackie had her one trip on the BTM. 

Ah, Big Thunder Mountain, the most gentle of 🎢 roller coasters but enough to cause a young woman to shriek and a young girl and dad to fall to the ground laughing. I just realised I didn't have vertigo back then. I could do those things and think they were fun. 

Now I'm freaked out by the bridge at Ourense never mind the one at Porto. The above picture was supposed to be a bridge, but as I like a fat finger fudge it can stay. Ah, there's the bridge at Ourense taken of Simon by Stuart, I'm down below.

We liked the strolling around Versailles did Jackie, Caitlin and I. I think we had a hotel nearby so it was walking distance and we covered the steps before steps were invented, well, computer steps, I don't want to call them mobile steps or I'll be off again on another tangent.

I can't help wondering how AI will transform the world at this moment I often think about the field of education and the subsequent appliance of science. We have a lot of AI already at work and it can be ingenious, if that's not oxymoronic. Like most things people are distracted by driverless cars but the real impact is on our Society. We are a disparate bunch at the moment and it's really being exacerbated across generations. Wealth has found itself stuck, whether it be in the scarcity of property or just the continual desire by government to make the poor poorer.

Society has a tendency to fragment and the UK with it's departure from Europe will only exacerbate that generational disconnect. We see all the time on the Camino as you wander through towns and pueblos that there's a greater sense of inclusion of all ages. I appreciate the north of Spain has a completely different mindset and this is from Spanish people from the south saying we are much less friendly. I always reply I just like seeing four generations of families out in the plaza mayor looking like they want to be together. I remember thinking that those advocating an earlier voting age like 12 or even 10 were so on the money. Why would you let people over 70 vote if under 18's can't. You can choose any upper limit you like but if working age stopped 30 years ago for you and you're still drawing a pension, you hold the scarce property that's soared in value, then it's hardly rocket science to suggest what will influence your vote, in a statistically significant number of cases. You want more money spent on you and a party who promises that would naturally get your vote. More cynically, the party that plays to your perception of society 60 years ago will also get your vote. 10 year olds have the world ahead of them and they should be able to vote for the same self interest and say we would like to do this. They might even proffer reasons why.

This can only lead to a growing massive debacle. The housing crisis is particularly due to our requirement to have more square feet per person than the generation before us. This happened largely through the 80's until 2007, but it didn't stop at the banking crisis. All that stopped was affordability. With interest rates at 0% and wages frozen the only people on the housing ladder were already on it. New additions required a leg up if they were to achieve it and the rise of homes as investment properties did the rest. The rise in overseas owners and parents of students just continued the trend. We nearly did it for Caitlin when she went to university as the case was huge. It was a political stance rather than making free money that stopped us doing it, although as I said, I did alright out of the Unite shares. It was, from a financial point of view, nothing more than shooting fish in a barrel. Buying property for your children while at university gives them that perfect leg up and then they can rent to their friends and slowly take over the mortgage, but it's really bad for the domestic housing market as it completely distorts buying a home. House prices never got away with it while there was a significant stock of public housing but of course that went in the 80's and was never replaced with the windfall we, the UK, received from selling them all off.

So enough on the property market what about the.votes for secondary school children or even Primary 7. Imagine politicians having to take this diverse community's views on board.

While politicians chunter away about exams and random measuring of performance, the children might demand to hear from those in their 20's who have recently been through this experience. What was fit for purpose 50 years ago when an MBA opened doors to make you a millionaire in double quick time is now long considered yesterday's gig. 

What does university in 2024 do for you in getting you to the starting grid. In my treatment timeline everything is geared towards how I will live my life in 2025 and beyond. How can I apply the learning from these past 4 months, or as I'll say in January, the 2024 experience.

My eyes have been blasted open and it's an unusual epiphany. It's normal behaviour to react, check the clock and bash on. How do our graduation classes of 2020's view their degrees and debt.

In my old work there was one job I did which was more successful than anything else and yet it provided no output. I was the silent gatekeeper for a number of projects. I stopped them in the pipeline when I saw how pointless they were,  how costly or unfeasible. There were many reasons why it was a good idea but if it couldn't be achieved then move on. If the purpose of the exercise was slowly being watered down it was clearly an avenue not worth pursuing. Delivery of what we could deliver was our most successful trait and we did it well. Go through open doors and remember which ones are locked. If you find keys later on that open then, revisit and then deliver but otherwise deliver what you can and don't waste other people's time with your pet pipe dream. I rarely was any good as a mentor but I did change my standard recommendations on going to university if asked by anyone.

My one management technique was the umbrella. I'd hold it over the staff when snow and hail were coming from on high then closed it on the sunny days when the words were kinder and let those responsible received the recognition. It was hardly rocket science, if watched this guy we called "I Claudius" in the 80's claim every team success for himself and blame his team for every mistake he made. It was chilling how people fell for it and I vowed to be the absolute opposite if I ever found myself in that role. I was so lucky later on to do just that. What do you like doing? What are you good at? My favourite questions to anyone thinking about working or going to Uni. If the answers don't tie up work for a year and enjoy your life. When I changed in 2nd year to do Psychology, I did a crash course 1st year to catch up during the first term of 2nd year alongside the second year class. It struck me as farcical that I passed it in 6 weeks. A course that was supposed to be 30 weeks, surely I've missed something out. It's all about the end game and what you want to do, what's your calling.

If I had received this Cancer treatment 10 years ago I think I'd probably be researching how to become a radiographer or a porter. I'm not good enough as a people person to be a receptionist, doctor or nurse. I'd love having a job using the scanner and laser everyday. I'd probably get in trouble though because I'd be wanting to take it out on the road and be 24*7. Man with a van doing your scan, yes his name is Stan.

Is that the future with AI. Will I be able to be Stan. Scan and tan, an all purpose built mobile paradise as I wander across the Camino. Maybe I just drive the professionals and have a wee walk while they perform their magic. The ultimate roadie. Rock and Pop stars listen up. If you could just bring a scanner to all your gigs we could probably get through a lot of prevention stuff. Especially the girls, you know the drill, all you swifties get on board, a scan is free. 

Talking of getting on board, the upper deck on the bus is fantastic fun for the photo opportunities. I'm not sure they're worthy photos but it is nice to conjure up images of the past.

The times when the Bank of Scotland sold the country out with their wee miscalculation in central America. Let it go, I hear you cry, but when 300 years later lightning struck again you couldn't help thinking why does society have so much faith in such a parcel of rogues.

Is it really just the Ionian pillars, which I do agree look very nice, or do I just like the old stone.

But, you rogues, Ionian pillars or not, that doesn't mean you can continue to bring a country to its knees. This bank of course is now a museum and the irony is not lost on me. That's what bank branches are now for many which leads me back to that generational divide of society 

My Dad needs a branch, our daughter never. It's just a portal. Are these competing needs actually competing? I think they are but not as much as those over 60 would have you believe.

That's just a wee bit of automation and the development of the web.

AI is the next generation and my Dad's done for if he hopes a branch will exist much longer.

What can AI do for our long term care strategy in the UK, that's what I want to know. I don't want it to write a report, I want it to develop answers to the housing and care of residents. I want to know how it can feed them physically and spiritually.

I'd also like to know what it can do for my tinnitus. I've got chemo coming up in 10 days and if it's anything like the last one I'll.never hear a word anyone says again. They'll need to sing to me to get over the pitch problems.

i stopped in cafe Gallo

For a lovely affogatto 

The sun it did shine 

And my throat said it's fine

So hoorah I've still got a swallow

It's week 3 that's come to a close

Its halfway on my radiation dose

The zapping's real fast

On my neck it does last

And the lump no longer grows.

This has been a fantastic day

now it's time for a wee curry

Some pakora to start

Red fort chicken and a tart

Then a trip to see Jim in Swanys 

The banks they lend the money

They bring our country to its knees

They talk of milk and honey

How their prudence shown will please

They take us for the fools we are

As they fuel the housing boom

With second homes both near and far

The housing crisis doth loom

The kids are studying housing 

In their newly acquired flat

They write essays alarm bells ringing

As the prices soar like that

Our society can't cope, we need to care

Politician wrong their hands claiming l'aissez fairer.

The markets always right

Until it's clearly wrong

You never get what you ask for

We've known all along.

I've turned a corner

I've turned a corner...... My latest ear worm... I just want to share it with the fabulous team at Oncology but luckily I don't sing it, I just smile and think it. What a fantastic bunch of professionals these people are, I'm in awe every day I enter the building. 

I was going to try and get this song on the radio. Well deadbeat radio. It's ringing like my tinnitus and I'm not sure if it'll lead into the chorus from yesterday but I'm loving how chilled the song is....

I've turned a corner....

And the world now looks... so very different to me 

And your point is caller.  ... 

Yes just another cheesy lyric that I've probably heard so many times before.... Ooh, that's the line...

I've turned a corner....I've turned a corner

And the world, now looks, very different to me

 I've turned a corner 

I've turned a corner

Unlike the times before, I feel, I finally see

Ok caller, what do you see, in your magnificent Epiphany. I can almost hear the rhyming couplets before you sing them you dafty, it's so derivative.

Eh, I'm going to see a mountain with a goat,  silhouetted against the setting son and yes, I'm going to become the greatest of all time.

Ok caller, last chance have you just seen Paul Weller play the castle and you've been listening to a jam album from 40 years ago.

Eh, and suddenly I see the goat is actually not alone and there's others and in the silhouette I see a blade being lifted as if the goat is going to be sacrificed.

Sorry Caller, that's your epiphany, see ye later, who's on line 3 

I've got a song as well.

Ok and that's enough of the Deadbeat radio call in let's listen to Life Support and The penny drops as the mushroom rises, A love story of .... Who writes this drivel?

So today it's me. It's Wednesday and we are off on the bus. I've walked to the meadows bus through town then walk from Stockbridge. I claimed the wee hill and have this beautiful view. So good I've taken more pictures than I've put up.

My energy levels are superb and I'm looking forward to the Wednesday chat with the nutritionists. It's such a great insightful look into the professionals here at the Western, every day is a school day. If only I remembered all the questions I want to ask. They're so prepared it is brilliant. They have their script, they've seen my bloods they are all over it. I have my head and it's full of nonsense so I usually just blabber rubbish and think afterwards, missed opportunity, good question for next week.

Today will be different. My throat is raspy and the swallows a bit uncomfortable but I'm eating. I prefer drinking but I can and do continue to chew and challenge my throat. 

After radiotherapy and a wonderful chat with the radiographer about the Portuguese way I headed on towards the nutritional professionals. I got a gold star when the saw my weight and heard my tale. If your body needs 7000 calories then that's what you need to do. All the water and all the cheesecake, ice cream, shakes and wonderful soups tick all the boxes. Challenging the throat with texture, like the pakora I'm having tomorrow is also a blast. Challenging with spice is pointless pain so I'll stick to tasteless shovelling. 

Tasteless shovelling is something most people would think I'd perfected during a life of eating everything including pizza boxes on a very greedy day. 

Whoever said there was no nutritional value in cardboard never tried it, I'd also say.

I'm thinking I had 5 pints of Guinness 20 days ago and wondered whether it was too early to try one tonight. I've largely not worried about drinking as I'm exhausted after tea and all the sweets.

I waited until Dad had enjoyed his cottage pie then finished the rest of it. Nothing tastes but I shovel it in like I've always done. It's pretty straightforward, food is fuel, diverse if possible, but don't buy the taste the difference, you won't. Buying 19p tins of peaches make as much sense as anything else. They're soaked in a light syrup, aka, sugar, that'll do.

I bought some mull cheddar from mellis last week. Still can't taste it. I can smell it fine, but no taste so leave it to Jackie who says it's lovely. I've tried eating it while holding the block under my nose. It's an option but I doubt it'll catch on.

After more cheesecake custard and peaches I'm done. I can't move because I'm knackered. Eating can be exhausting after an hour and so Guinness can wait and apologies beckon. Maybe Friday I'll have post dinner determination.

I was up at 4am for my Weetabix and then toothpaste and mouth guards. A lot more blood coming up, I must ask the docs if I should spit or swallow. I'm happy with either but not sure which is preferable.

This mornings session of Reflexology and reiki was another level again. It seems the more beat up my body gets the more beautiful the treatment becomes. My whole body seems to come alive in such a random way. It can be a point on my shoulder or forearm and I just feel this energy go through me. No idea how it works, care even less to find out, just so glad it transforms me. I had water every 20 minutes again and it really is little sips now. Glugging a pint glass in 5 seconds is long gone. I'm good for 20ml in that time.

As the bus whirls it's way through town I'm reminded of the old days when the buses stopped everywhere and I'd walk up castle street to work. I'm guessing that's the last 70's and 80's. It's different now and so am I. I've always thought, back then through to now, that the shops are just so random in town. There might be less tobacconists and off licences but occasionally or particularly in Stockbridge bespoke wine shops have appeared. They probably sell cigars. That would be a triumph of the 80's, I chuckle to myself. I'll have to venture in and ask what bottles of Port they have. I can talk about my Portuguese Camino and the wonderful boat I never took up the river from Porto.

So it Zapping and Doc today. I've to ask about the green juice, it's actually a mouth wash but ask I must ask I'm running low. I've also got to get some tips for pain management next week. 

I just had the 6 paracetamol yesterday and dropped the diahysrocodeine. It didn't make much difference except a lot more blood this morning from the throat. That may just be coincidence as the treatment ramps up. It's #14 so I'm supposed to feel shit and luckily between Jackie, Caitlin all the outrageously professional team as oncology, the post match Cafe Gallo experience and all the pals it's going good. 

In fact I'd say it's going great. I'm down to 2 fingers from 4 and yet I'm still eating. My thrush has gone, my bloods are good and the ulcers sing like heavenly angels.

Thursday has been a very good day and tomorrow is the end of week 3.

I remembered to get more mouth wash too. So pleased to remember something unprompted.

The bigger the pile..... the broader the smile

This song has lasted longer than expected so here's hoping the birthday boy Tom is enjoying Alencon with a pile of cakes and a smile to match.

It's just so anthemic I can even hear it playing on the jukebox at La Paillot during the pool tournament and everyone stopping to sing the french version. 

Definitely need to get those drums down. It's started turning into one of those 80's stadium gigs. It could be big country, simple minds, Waterboys so many but the drums are phenomenal and the crowd are loving it.

Yesterday as I had a wee double shuffle in the radiotherapy room I had the song blaring so loud in my head it drowned out my tinnitus. One of the downsides of the chemo was double tinnitus. They might try another chemo at week 5 but hey, I'll just write a verse for the song and I'll be off again.

This morning was a lot of reiki and reflexology. My body loves it and seems to be ten times more receptive than usual. I'd explained I might need woken up twice for a glass of water and that really helped alleviate the dryness in the throat. It was simply sensational and I walked back thinking how good I felt compared to early week 2 when I was trying to hydrate and wondered if I'd last the 6 weeks. Today I know the throat will get dryer, the ulcers more nippy and the eating tougher, but there's a party in my head.

I got home and had some soup Jackie had made. Straight from the fridge, 1 part soup 1 part boiling water. Temperature perfect for a wee boy with a sore throat. 4 mugs later it was done and I had an obligatory half bottle of the 2k shaker. I'm trying to do 2@2k bottles a day now as it seems to make sense to put weight on. 

My weight had dropped to 15/10 but I got it up to 15/13 yesterday after pigging put over the weekend. Slipped a bit to 15/12 but the weigh in is tomorrow so I'll put my lead boots on and should make the weight. Before I leave the house I'm back to making sure I'm 16 stone 4 if possible and if I'm not ill make sure I just swallow some water and shake. It's probably the easiest of the disciplines.

Through the night I moved to the brush teeth middle of the night then mouth guards on until I wake up. It just nips too much if I brush the teeth and leave them for 45 mins. Equally putting the mouth guards on while watching the telly hasn't been too successful either as the ulcers really kick off and so I'll try this until they tell me no.

That's enough technical nonsense much more important is the weather. Sunny, not rainy today so that's superb. 

Well maybe not. Just as I headed towards Mordor I saw the clouds and my step quickened. Why did I take my jacket off. Frodo, don't wear the ring, it could bring on the raining.

Luckily I made it here no problem despite Using verse 7 ringing through my ears off blessed are the peace makers except that bastard who started all those wars over fake dossiers. How Isaiah had the foresight to see 4000 years ahead just shows you, even a broken clock can be right twice a day.

"Good afternoon, Alan McEwan, due in the tanning studio 14:15, just the neck today please"

Time for my seat on the waiting room and a read of issue #14 if Deadbeat. It was final exam time at St Andrews and as ever I had not gone to any classes again and so expected to make up answers to questions I'd never even researched. 

Seems like a good time to blame everyone else and split up with Deadbeat's artist and Dundee's correspondent. Aye, what a fanny but the deadbeats cartoon was all the better for my stupidity. Hats off to Hilary and double radiotherapy for you fat Al, ya big child. Hope it hurts real bad.

I also really enjoyed the wild Indians interview. Whenever a band explained they weren't musicians it was a wonderful way to explain anyone can play music. Not all will succeed with a good sound, but the band were superb to party with and all their gigs had the floor jumping. 

Happy hints perfection was every week as Lynne and Kath knocked it out the park in every issue. Coverage of the 1983 election was so good compared to mainstream news media. They were geniuses of comedy and Deadbeat readers were the grateful beneficiaries.

I had to give up the blankie around my tube yesterday. I'd had a dressing on while the staples were removed as it was a bit raw but Camino Norte Nurse took one look and said, nah. We don't want any infection and you don't need it. I laughed and watched my blankie go to the bin. To be fair it saved me 2 mins this morning and is one less job. 

I've now got time to do my teeth with no toothpaste and just a little clean.

The 5000 flourine toothpaste is a middle of the night thing when I put my mouth guards in. It nips too much otherwise.

Oops. This was the Tuesday post. I've got Wednesday and Thursday in draft too🤣

This is a proper piece of deadbeat journalism, late and put of sync.