Scorpio Leisure - Leith depot

A brilliant gig and so lucky to be there.

I saw the gig was coming when I was in the depot last week and we went. Simon was not disappointed. Like me, he loved it.

I love the syncopated rhythms. I love the way the voice is an instrument. I love the way I'm asking questions about pink military and the gang of four.

I've no idea what I'm talking about but I know how much I enjoyed the gig.

I've never seen a band in the last 20 years who have lifted me out of retirement into deadbeat mode like Scorpio leisure did a year ago. They were supporting Scars and boots for dancing. They blew them away. They were brilliant.

This was my chance to correct that. I confirm they are brilliant.

I chuckle 40 years on from the deadbeat days at the subjects we left as taboo.

When you're over 60 the average male needs a blue pill, they should listen to Scorpio leisure. No pill required they have you feeling it and you long for more. I think it was the same groove that the over 60's female heard. In fact I think the gig was full of people who enjoyed it. They loved it. They loved it because it was great.

I love the monochrome set because their rhythms are so beautiful in their dysfunctional direction. I'm not a real music buff I just like what I like.

What I listened to tonight was as pure as you can hope for. It was a sell out tonight.

I hope for a larger audience for Scorpio Leisure soon. They deserve it and the audience will thrive on it. Queens Hall here we come.

And now ... the end is near

And hopefully it's not the final curtain. I will be happier if this show runs and runs, while the cancer takes its final bow and disappears.

Yes, the Camino Can'cerre, rather the post treatment life. I won't lie my brain is massively different and I've left a lot of the baggage of life along the way. It's not just my brain that's lost stuff, I've had a good bit of atrophy in my life.

My ambition to kick a ball across the Camino again is real, as is going to the meadows for a kick about with Caitlin. I might even treat myself to proper boots.

My football career is the stuff of legend. That's if you like the legends where there's no happy ending.

I loved football at primary and when we left for Maryland I remember as a p4, playing in the playground with the P6's and 7's. When I went to grade 5 trials at Darnestown I was the only one who could play. I remember the Seneca valley team in the Maryland championships but not much else. After 2 years I returned to p7 and I was told to concentrate on basketball. Football was pretty much over and I could be left back as I had a left foot. At that age I hadn't worked out that you were supposed to just play with one. I'd always used both my feet.

My family and near neighbourhood didn't do boys clubs so I knew nothing about how football in Edinburgh was structured. As a Hibs supporter I should've known my history but alas I didn't. I could've joined one of these boys clubs but lacked the capacity. We played up the Pollock's instead. We played in the park until they planted all the trees.

By secondary the first eleven football team had already been picked. I remember wondering how they knew all the good players. I wondered what made someone a good player. As ever I wondered for a moment then that moment passed. Never push at a closed door. This was a closed door. It never changed until I was in 5th year, then I got to play.

I played basketball instead and wished I played football.

At university the first team had already been chosen too although at least they had trials. The locker room was full of chat so before the note went up we all knew both 1st XI,  2nds and 3rds. I was 2nds for sure. I had an engine a head and 2 feet apparently.

I was pulled aside early on. Andy Taylor asked me to join the 3rds. No training, mostly drinking and you could smoke on the bench. I gave it some thought, then took two others from the 2nds and signed up.

I never looked back. We played to our strengths and enjoyed the party. We played some tough teams in fife as our level meant it was village and town teams. Most didn't like students and loved going through you. It certainly improved my control, quick pass and  toughened me up. I was far too fair and I learned that fouling was an important, muy importante, part of football. The dark arts needn't be deployed but you must make sure they don't bite you. 

It's a bit like business. Pretending that people are honest, or even aspire to being honest, is folly. They want to get through the day at best and at worst, at all costs, as a winner. My favourite incidence involved some guy called head of procurement from a bank. He had that swagger of a guy going down and how I loved taking him down.

It was 2000 and he told me he was there to serve notice on the contract his bank had with us. 

I said it's six months, will that be enough time and he said "I know it's 6 months, I'm heading of procurement". We'll get you I thought, you must be head of procurement.

I said if it runs over these are the terms and he said it won't run over we are the bank. He stood up as if to dismiss me in my own building and I smiled graciously. 

Thank you for you.business over these years it's been a joy and a privilege to serve your customers. May I wish you and them all the best for the future as I guess we won't meet again, I smiled.

He shook my hand with a pitiful benevolence. Inside I was roaring with laughter as I knew the script. He was indeed the bank and the bank never delivered. 5 months later he was back in our office.

I greeted him like a long lost friend who I had been fortunate to meet for 5 minutes once in my life 

He said he wanted to renegotiate the terms and I said that's great news.

I asked how much more he wanted to pay and assured him it would reach all the staff who had been serving out their redundancy notices. I promised every penny of the increased amount would be used to augment their redundancy payments as looking after staff had been key to looking after their customers.

He explained he was not there to negotiate up but rather to not pay the £1.5m compensation I'd put in the penalty clauses.

I said he should've gone to Specsavers, a joke he didn't understand as he had had a humour bypass. I said I couldn't possibly renegotiate with the staff fulfilling the contract to stay longer and receive less. I then described what each member of the team were doing after they left us. Some were retraining, some emigrating and two were going to university. One sadly had been forced to sell their house as they were in the middle of a divorce, couldn't find another job and wanted to make sure they didn't get into debt with the mortgage so had downsized. 

I forced him to sit through me slavering for 15 minutes about the impact on people I liked and then I smiled and said we would spend the £1.5m wisely. We did. Most of the staff didn't leave but the ones who did were getting 6 months to a year in compensation. 

As I shook his hand and said sorry I couldn't have been more helpful I couldn't help but remark on his lovely watch.

That's a lovely watch, I said.

He told me all about it. He never noticed I don't wear a watch. I think I stopped wearing them when I was in my teens. He was still telling me some drivel about the watch as he slithered out the door. I'm happy I broke it to him so gently as these guys get upset when they lose.

We went to the pub and had a pint or 6.

I found it symptomatic of the banks. No suprise to see them bankrupt 8 years later. They had a lot of clueless bullies in many senior positions. This idiot is probably picking up £1m a year nowadays. I hope I taught him a lesson but I doubt it. He looked far too in love with himself for a wee pleb like me to mark him even with a medium sized mallet.

He got the train with one of my colleagues and accused me of being a fearsome negotiatior. I laughed so hard I nearly spilled my pint. I said to my colleague, tell him one day I just fell foul of first impressions and he'd left one on me. From the moment he walked through the door, assumed control of the meeting until he departed that day I knew he'd get stitched up like a kipper. 

To use the penalty box tap on the shoulder to make him look the other way was all I needed. In his case, he only needed a mirror to look into, he found himself so mesmerising. 

I often wonder why I only took him for £1.5m. What was it that made me think those were the right numbers. £100 per client taken on after the cut off seems so unfair now. £25 for every individual line of stock in a valuation also looks a tad punishing but it was 99/2000 and the dot com bubble. We had to look at the opportunity cost of doing this work and not for an ongoing client. We also had to charge for all the clients as they had missed their deadline and that involved another cut of data. As my techy laughed as he hit send, that'll be £1.5m please. Even footballers don't earn £1.5m per second.

I went to Maggie's today for a bit of advice and how helpful they were. I've got myself straight and I also got a lovely cup of coffee and cake. I knew I should've done this more often. 

I got the answers to a lot of small questions and then got even more when I spoke to nutrition. I now know it's February 4th at 2:40pm that I get my results. If it's all clear then the tube may go that day. Excellent news as I have been having stingy trouble with it. My sciatica is back in my right leg so I'm trying to sleep on my left, alas the tube is on my left. I'll always remember which side my stomach is on now. I was so good with maps, in Grade 5 I could draw a map of the USA and do the 48 states, even what and where the state capital was. Even now I shout Salem when someone asks the capital of Oregon in that excitable pub quiz child way. I just wish I'd drilled my anatomy into the same box. I have no idea which side the appendix is on although I'm pretty sure I've still got one. Every time I'm at Midlothian Physiotherapy I look at that map of the body on the wall in a curious kind of way. It's the way I looked at Picasso's Guernica in Madrid. Fascinating but nothing going in my akull. I'm clearly aware of what I like to look at, but my interest didn't hang any labels. Strange how you can have a photographic memory for some stuff, often nonsense, but the brain slides the shutter to view only, for other stuff. Like all of us, we look in the mirror and say, I'm just wired that way.

Simon, Chris and I were out for a stroll on Thursday after the dentist at the western had done a wonderful job on my gob.

We took the loop around the Dalmeny estate and my pictures don't catch the sky quite as well as some of those Turner paintings. 

The sky was full of that aurora borealis in grey. There must have been about 20 different shades of grey as the clouds moved across the light, stunning it was, add the piles of shells, beach, the sea, isolation and Crammond island the complete a magical experience.

It was supposed to be raining but happily we did a 10k loop with the 3 of us and the dog staying dry.

There's so many of these walks that make an old man very happy and following it up with a trip to Leith Depot for a late lunch was superb. Scorpio leisure are playing Leith Depot Thursday 30th so that's another date in the diary.

Friday.

Today was more Reflexology and reiki. Such a phenomenal part of my treatment and recovery. I've been a fan for 30 years, it works for me and depending how your wired it may or may not work for you. I swear by it as it seems to calm me down. Talking of being calmer than before, why do journalists on the TV news use the expression "more calmer". Ah'm no linguist but if you want to educate people with the news surely you use language. I genuinely thought more calmer sounds totally like a bampot slavering after 10 pints. Clearly I was not as calm as I felt an hour ago when driving back from reflexology listening to the car radio.

The radio 4 programme on common misunderstandings of fuel for the body was fascinating and a reminder that when you are exercising you need to fuel up or your body will use muscle to satisfy your energy requirements. That point is often missed by me..no fuel means my body will use muscle which in turn leads me to feel exhausted. The study extended to people from around the world and how activity levels weren't the be all and end all. Who knew how many of our basic bodily systems require calories and it helped explain why I felt like I needed 3000 calories daily during treatment, which I'm sure I muttered back at week 4 to nutrition as noted on this blog.

It was weird realising that relationship which I had always got completely wrong. At 18, I stopped eating sweets when I got obsessed with my weight and started vomiting every night. I'd used smoking to suppress the appetite although I will concede to getting the munchies whenever smoking a joint. Apparently you get the munchies only if you inhale.

Lately I've been eating scones with cream and jam. They're the way forward especially with exercise. I remember Graeme Obree talking about slow and fast release carbs before his daily 50-100km bike ride. "Yeah, I have a jam piece and a pint of milk". Not an ounce of fat on him as he discussed why he wouldn't take all the nonsense supplements when he joined a team for the tour. It was a programme I saw about 20-30 years ago and it always makes me smile when I hear stuff about diet that I've heard before and ignored.

Another person who told me to fuel up was Simon in 2007. He'd eat a packet of biscuits for every bocadillo that I ate. He ended up thinner than me, 500 miles later after a month on the stomp. I got it wrong and only when I moved onto donuts for breakfast did Simon finally get a chance to see how to make me move in the morning. During treatment I started taking 4 sugars in my tea. It's amazing how slowly it started making a difference. I should add while Simon knew the answers back then it too took him until 5 years ago before he saw the correlation between exercise and fuel. His weight is under control nowadays because he walks 80km a week. All diets failed him, so he went to the one thing that always works, low level activity. 

What is less amazing is how quickly I resorted to type and said sugars bad honey is good. Honey is good, it really is, but I'm not sure it's worked as well. It's like my jam and yoghurt that has been binned for Weetabix and no sugar. At least I have added biscuits to my rucksack so there's always some sugar.

Stu also used to tell me, "less bread" and so I did start taking sugar in my peppermint tea. I still couldn't bring myself to eat cake even though I love it. Basque gateau is superb as are the donuts. If I write it often enough I'll start to believe it. Golfers always have a bacon roll or whatever before their round yet donuts is what they need. You see them powering down on the back nine and toiling up 17. When I was at my best I always had hazelnut cake in the bag. I've forgotten how much of that cake I baked and ate, during golf. Nowadays I don't take cake and I'm rubbish again. It's a recurring theme this forgetting. They used to call me rainman 2010-2015. They don't call me rainman now. I keep forgetting to turn up and play. That's the thing about golf, you need to arrive at the golf club not lie in your bed thinking about it. I'm sure when I baked the hazelnut cake I had a better memory too, or maybe they only called me rainman when I had the hazelnut cake, not because I knew every shot everyone played, especially the ones they'd forgotten to count.

It's why I laugh at a lifelong obsession with weight and yet a bit of cancer, alcohol abstinence and a loss of appetite has me scrambling to keep my weight up to 15/4. I've tried like a bear to get below 100kgs. I was below 100kg before I even started the treatment. When I stopped drinking I lost 10-15 kgs as I was still doing the exercise. I'll have to look back to the earlier posts to see if I was doing the cake.

It does feel like 3 -4 months I've struggled to keep the weight on and I'd drop to 75kg in a month without too much effort.

I've gone back to trying to drink 2-3 pints of full fat milk. During week 4 of treatment I had 4 pints of Guinness as I knew I was being weighed the next day and was too light. It worked, I was 1kg heavier but I forgot to have the Guinness the following Wednesday as I was not up for alcohol. If only I'd drunk milk. 

This has indeed been the hardest part for me. A regimen I just couldn't get comfortable with. I've been as free as a bird since 2009 and rules really didn't sit comfortably ever. Some reasoning, some logical explanations sink in, often though I would ignore signs, it's how my antenna work. Before I kicked a ball with my diagnosis I'd hunkered down for an alcoholic's respite. I knew I needed to present my body in a decent shape for them to treat. Anything less was indecently arrogant. These people are trying to help you. They are trying to save your life. You need to give them a decent liver to process the treatment. Yeah, I'd worked out immediately it was one of those moments when my reasoning resulted in response. As I sit here chuckling,  writing about energy levels and exercise I'm aware that it's often not the case.

Many if us ignore the obvious answer as we strim around the edges and ignore the jungle in the middle. In the column marked things I'm good at is talking about stuff and in the column marked unfinished business or things I'm not good at it's definitely sticking to the plan. It's full of thinking not doing. 

A bit like the deadbeat Christmas annual. It's due out in 2025, 40 years after the last time we took some to the shops. Collecting those jars full of 10p paid for so many jars back in the early 80's but work got in the way and like the deadbeat label the fanzine bit the dust.

On that note I'll hit publish and be done. 

I'm in a holding pattern waiting for February 4th so a stroll on Tuesday and a gig next Thursday should move the calendar along nicely.

Sadly Elizabeth's funeral is the same day. Elizabeth and David were great pals of my mum and dad. One great memory is in France and as the windows swung open Elizabeth sang out "high on a hill..." From Sound of Music. My mum was in hysterics and I always remember my mum with Francis and Elizabeth enjoying life and laughter. 

In the great world of sliding doors and what if game, Elizabeth's son Paul introduced My brother to WoodMac which led to me getting a job and then Stuart, Alan, Alan and half the southside. If we hadn't got a job as a school boy in the post room who knows where life would go.

Similarly, Elizabeth's husband David walked with my Dad along the Camino in 2003. I had gone to look after my mum in France while my Dad was away. We had a great time, tracking their movements and harvesting the bumper summer crops of September in France. We juiced so many kilos of tomatoes. Fun times and great memories. If I hadn't been there looking after my Mum I'd have never thought Simon and I could do it in 2007. Both Elizabeth and David will long live in my memory and will get candles lit every Camino.

The Scan is done - now the jury can decide in the next 3 weeks

It's bizarre but I care not a jot

I felt such a lot of pre scan excitement, 

It came to nought. 

It's like my 'Space' plans in the late 80's, early 90's. I had to think inside my box concerning how football stadiums could be better utilised. I know it's sad, I just love maximising the economic impact of a space. I used to try and explain why double time at the weekend was worth it for the firm and the personnel. It's a simple explanation of marginal cost my poor board members couldn't get. Eventually I'd shout 'your bill for the building is fixed whether you use it at the weekend or not. Those computers, printers, other hardware like chairs or desks,  all the machinery never mind the networks. Did I mention carpets, decoration or any other elements of maintenance.' 

The kicker for the staff was always double time but if we needed to employ double the numbers and double our space, network infrastructure it made limited sense for us. Stockbroking was like many industries volatile, or as I used to say, an accordion industry. For those who love bullshit bingo cards, you need some flexibility as it can suddenly be busy or quiet. For many this represents a challenge, even a misery but I'm wired in a quirky way. This presents opportunities to me. I was and still am a huge fan of paying double time. It's the one chance employers get to give extra money away by maximising the fixed costs. In some countries they think you should just be on call all the time and be happy you're getting 60 hours that week and 10 the next. That's not good and breaks all my management corporate laws and beliefs. If we get a chance to reward those who fancy it, we need to have these things some call 'flex'.  We also need to say thank you to anyone who wants to be that 'flex'. 

Please skip to the pictures I'm just going to tell you about my love of using a space. 

I go down more rabbit holes than Freddie the ferret so honestly, save yourself and enjoy the pictures, that's what I'd do.

I suppose you could say, I hate waste. I love to say I loved my work, but sometimes I was driven by a hate of waste or even more often stupidity. 

Jimmy Carter's funeral reminded me that I am occasionally driven by hate. He hated that the USA, a huge producer of oil was still oil dependent. By the time he'd finished, or not longer after, they weren't. The eulogies at his funeral were fantastic. Readers will know that I was a huge fan. The last President I had any time for. 

He was so misrepresented but he just carried on with what he saw as his work. Like Jess Rogan he went forward and fixed things he saw were broken. He was never credited for his successes, the next 12 years saw the republican party airbrushing him out and the Clinton, Baby Bush and Obama years carried the narrative on. They sowed the seeds and the USA now re-elects Trump. It's what they've all been busy marketing since 1980. It is no suprise to see what is happening. They foolishly believe that they have this thing called the constitution which includes the ability to bear arms. To think that a piece of paper which has been amended many times can't be amended again is a misunderstanding of how corrupt it is. If trump is told trees have a preservation order on them, he cuts them down. A dead tree involves a fine, not an obstacle. He loves and admires absolute power. Guess what, people like that pursue it until they are stopped. They are never stopped by votes.

I could certainly maximise the use of the white house. I was there a couple of times in the early 70's at Christmas parties and have thrown up on the steps. I was only 10 so my body hadn't got used to substance abuse 

I loved where we lived when we returned from the USA in 1974. At school I had to explain we didn't live in a boat hoose. It took me a while to pay attention. I tried to explain we were nowhere near the canal. I lacked the language skills to understand people who lived in 'coosel hooses' used 'boat hooses' to describe where I lived. I know it's semantics,  I've just always been really slow. I've always been very fast to misinterpret but more of that later.

 

I was a bit quicker when the 'Germans', staying at the Pollock halls one summer couldn't find a venue for a party. I asked the priest and next thing I had the keys for the church hall. I took my music centre up and played DJ. Accompanied by my vast collection of 8 compilation tapes, 14 singles and 5 LPs, we had a great night. I recall I wasn't too good with requests, but the visiting students got a venue, we all got drunk and I locked the building. At 15 I fell in love with using empty venues.

Football venues, in the 90's, were being built or developed in Glasgow and Edinburgh as the Taylor report had also told us all to sit down and get civilised. It's hard to believe the Hillsborough families got justice of sorts last year. I was a tiny bit involved in the hands off Hibs, handing the petition into downing street with proper legendary fans Brian and Tony. I pass Brian's mum's bench in the meadows regularly so it's always nice to smell the roses and take a seat and thank Jess Rogan and all like her. What a woman she was.

One of the Hibs things I got asked about led me to discuss my nonsense on how to maximise the asset. First up was events, from weddings to the sports bar concept. I then drifted down the wellness route, from gyms to physios and scanners. Hotels seemed obvious with football clubs in particular as the diaspora would love nothing more than coming home to spend a night at their favourite club. I split my thoughts into the high end like the diaspora and the community hubs from early education, nurseries through art or craft clubs to dance, theatre, music, recording rehearsal, performance spaces, writing, adult literacy which was so important to me back then. 

Nowadays, with my interactions with fellow cancer patients I realised just how many people couldn't understand some very simple questions they were being asked or even why. Sadly the few times I saw angry patients it was usually a misunderstanding, where interpretation was at fault. 

I fell foul of loaded questions regularly and they were always mine. The most recent was to do with the mouthwashes when I asked a do I keep using them all or just the new one. When I heard yesterday, I attached it to just the new one but the yes was probably issued before I added the latter and of course I should have clarified it. I did 2 months after I stopped and still chuckle how my mouth has improved since I stopped making up my advice.

I was so excited when I woke up on Monday. It's hard to describe how someone wired like me feels as they get to week 18. It's a huge achievement and so much more than week 22 when I'll get the results. Week 23 is when I hope to lose the feeding tube which was inserted in week -2. 

I was really manic as I went through for the scan. I felt the accelerator on my mind getting up to 5000rpm. I kept saying to myself chill, slow down but that's not how I'm wired.

I did the scan and tried to explain my fear but had no conviction about the concept of my irrational fear behaviour.

Guess what, it's gone, totally gone. It's official I have been to scan school and I could care less.

I spent a few minutes trying to increase my anxiety but all I got was the usual frozen in the headlights.

I do freeze in headlights. I drink alcohol to ensure I don't panic. Today however I was so troubled by the lack of panic. That's what scan school can do for you and for me it was that selfie in week 1 of treatment. Seeing myself in the mask, I felt very proud. I thought I'm having that on my wall. Not many people get that privilege and I've been inside the ropes. It is a privilege.

I think it's very funny, but I was hyper from when I woke up. I watched the golf playoff from Hawaii so i'd only had 5 hours sleep instead of my usual 12. I had Columbian Nico but he lost in the play off to Canadian Nick. I literally couldn't wait to get going. How ironic when it was 1pm and I still hadn't left the house. 

It never stops amazing me how my mania can result in activity or just ideas buzzing in my head. I'm reminded of an 80's experiment they did on mice. One sample was given speed, the other lot E. This resulted in a lot of activity. The interesting conclusion was the mice on speed did everything in their cage, run the wheel, the ramp, the tunnel etc, while those on E went from one side of the box to the other, back and forth. I wanted to know who had the better time but alas I hadn't gone to mouse school so was unable to ascertain the answer.

This week has been far more interesting for Stuart coming to town. 

It's been brilliant for all his family and pals in Edinburgh.

There's been house parties, strolling on the prom, coffee, cake, mint tea chips and bevvy.

The fun has been endless and it was helped enormously by Stu bringing the weather 

We had been dealing in freezing conditions and suddenly it was 10° and sunny.

It's been an absolute joy and while I might be coming out of my Camino Can'cerre, Stu is embarking on yet another one. 

There's no doubt in my mind that family and friends help as you navigate through and he's blessed with great family in London and Edinburgh to help him navigate a tougher journey than the Camino Norte.

It's hard to believe it was September and October Stu walked with Simon and Richard only 3 months ago.

It raised my spirits so much seeing them party along the coast. That beer festival in Laredo still has me chuckling as they quaff and I get fed another jug of chemo. 

They were so vibrant and it was a constant reminder that losing a few months was small beer when these sights were merely being put back a year.

We've often discussed getting out there and doing it. In 2010 we took a route from Alicante through Barcelona and Narbonne to Limoges.

Going back to Narbonne is still up there on the bucket list.

Last year Stuart, Simon and I were walking about in Almenucar. We walked through Málaga to Benalmadena and beyond. It was a magnificent January trip. It's hard to believe it's less than 12 months ago. 

Life is eventful and I have enjoyed the events of the last 12 months. 

Head down, bash on, let's do the next 12 months ....  It's a mere stroll along the beach.

The tide was out

It was 2° and the tide was out.

I was well wrapped up so I wandered to the seas edge. It was wrapped in sunshine and looked warmer than the prom which was so sporadically shady.

The water's edge was superb. The tide was ensuring the sea was sliding further out and soon I'd be able to walk to Fife.

The snow on the Lomond peaks ensured such madness never came to pass and instead I sought sustenance and sanctuary in the Greek cafe.

These treats are delicious and after walking a bit I had the hunger. 

My steps hadn't been over 12000 since before Christmas so it was no surprise that I've been effortlessly sliding into ill health. Whether it's my high BP or just lethargy, I find quickly lack of activity leads to a lack of interest in anything. Running out of vitamin D put the tin lid on it as I started properly going out of my mind for about 24 hours. 

This time of year it's traditional to be stuck indoors and find a lack of resource to get moving. The weather can restrain you or a belief that lying in bed thinking a duvet day will be beneficial. I'm absolutely useless if I don't move, I really do sieze up. I know this but I have to work hard at it. It's like eating or drinking too much used to be but they've both gone.

I was also beating myself up over another foolish mistake with my meds. I misunderstood 'changing' as 'stopping' the mouthwashes. It was actually 'supplementing', if only my ears or eyes worked better. I only discovered this when I was looking through my paperwork and read the instructional advice again. I had only been using the green juice occasionally.

I was supposed to carry on using them all. I stopped before week 8 and was only really using the last one they prescribed. I restarted the bicarbonate of soda on Jan 3rd having not had any since October. My mouth is tingling now not stinging. I've been blaming the toothpaste, looking in the wrong direction at 'what provoked it', not what meds I was taking, or had stopped taking, to keep my mouth clean and aid it's recovery.

In my head I was trying to tidy up all the meds so we could get back to normal and all I've done is to create a new normal by delaying my recovery. Clearly another shambles from just assuming or guessing. It must be so hard for the staff to have to deal with patients who forget or ignore the advice.

With my mouth feeling better and exercise restored, I ate like a horse today. I even had mackerel and finished the pack. I say, "even", because I'd already had my stew leftovers, a huge plate which I most assuredly didn't offer to share. 

This is huge progress and a welcome return to the reiki/reflexology table had me bursting full of positivity all day today.

So a good day all round as Stu received his 9th radiotherapy session for the brain cancer. It's a tough gig after he has guided me through since May when I was starting out on my Camino Can'cerre. 

When I go in for my scan on Monday 13th he'll probably be on the recieving end of some painful cure as his treatment carries on.

It's the ingenious ways of keeping us alive which in the middle ages were probably used for torture, although I've yet to be offered the burning at a stake cure.

So this week I see the dentist with my crumbling ivories and next week it's the scan we hope that will say it looks to have gone. They'll never be able to say it won't come back and the nature of the beastly blighters is they like to party. I think I mentioned a few months ago how much cancer enjoys making a pest of itself so I don't think I'll have seen the last of it for sure. What I do hope for is that this will be the last of this particular visit. I need to keep my immune system in good order to keep the body fighting any unwelcome party goers and that's where my new found capacity for abstinence comes in really useful.

As a lifelong alcoholic I've dedicated myself to ensuring I can continue to drink. I've often been quite devious in ensuring I maximise the efficiency of my body to process as much drink, not least when I gave up spirits in my 20's. I knew I'd be dead before I was 30 so I figured I would be missing out on a lot of wine and beer in later life. 

It's true as I probably drank about 30,000 pints in my 30's so giving up bottles of Pastis proved a wise thing to do. 

It was like the retreat from smoking in my 40's. Clearly I couldn't continue going through 50g of tobacco a day. 100 roll ups was the wrong number, but when I started getting the lift from the first to the second floor I knew the game was up.

Stopping drinking to ensure the NHS staff had a reasonable chance of curing me seemed the only response when I got my diagnosis. Like all elderly people I probably was going to slow down my drinking anyway so to stop for treatment meant they could pump as much chemo or zap as much radiation as they felt. My liver and kidneys were largely thinking, you think this is bad, you want to see how we feel after 6 pints and 2 bottles of red. Worse still, I heard them shout, when he gets a box set and had to watch the next one, and the next one until it was 5am and he's downed 3 bottles of red, 2 jars of olives and a big block of cheese.

Yes, I think it's why everyone thought I looked good on the treatment as I looked so shit when I was a fat smiling drunky monkey.

Either way, we are where we are and my relationship with drink has now changed. I'll continue drinking but I'm on the lookout for a past time that satisfies my thirst and doesn't involve just water. I did think about whisky or wine buff but not too sure it's my style. My palate isn't sophisticated enough for craft beers so I doubt it'll merit tasting sessions.

When we were last in Spain, half pints became the preferred option. We also ventured down the 0.5° beers as well. Some of the draft lose alcohol options worked really well but I think 12 half pints will be the new all day session. It's an old man thing and at 62 I'm going to play that card. My alcoholic 'old' uncles never made it to 60 so I think I'm definitely an old man. I've made old bones as they say, although in this day and age 90 seems to be the new 60.

The problem is the natural order does still seem to will put. Whether you believe in the nature nurture debate, think we are all conditioned by our upbringing, our exposure to sensationalist advertising or have always been left handed, age does will out as those things you thought you'd conquered or managed to ameliorate return. I was always good at leaving a job unfinished, unless it was food or a pint. I'm preoccupied with emptying my plate or a pint glass, even the hoover. I can't abide doing those jobs and leaving a bit. So it's strange when I find out what jobs are perfectly reasonable not to finish, like a golf swing. 

It goes hand in hand with help. Loads of people give varying offers of help from the full on care ice received from the NHS all along the way, for ends and family through to the rubber neckers who just, quite plainly are a waste of energy. You have to learn to accept help but also decipher what is offered. More inquisition about how I was feeling rarely proved fruitful so you need to decipher when that's a nervous opening line or if it was their only line. Sweeping it aside with superb usually separated the wheat from the chaff. The helpful moved quickly onto living while the rubber neckers wanted to satisfy their craving for bad stuff and onwards transmission. Doesn't make them a bad person, just not someone you spend time with when your energy levels are low.

I've never finished the answer with myself about it defining the future allocation of resources but as I know too well, I'm not often a finisher.

Enough of this nonsense. I think I'm only trying to capture my mood and contrast it to 36 hours ago. I am in such a good place and so grateful as the next steps grow closer.

I can feel the hosepipe, aka feeding tube, finally leaving my stomach.

The requirements of flushing daily finally finishing.

The long promised holiday, finally materialising.

The next portion of living finally arriving.

Yes the tide is finally retreating and with any luck there will be a decent period of respite before it returns.