Monday, July 31, 2006

Feminism Today

Today's appointment went really well. Not only have all the consultants I've seen been women, which really makes me think the world has changed in the past thirty years, but the Fertility consultant seems to be quite a big wig as she was virtually namedropping Lord Winston. I'd much rather have her job than the poor oncologist's who has to say things like 'You've got a 20% chance of not being here in ten years' compared to her 'And we could try for two babies, and that's just with the frozen embryos'. You see not only are we going to freeze some embryos (hopefully) but also freeze some ovarian tissue, which they can then try and put back in which not only might help me have babies but also possibly reverse the menopause (which is likely to come on early as a result of chemo & hormonal). I thought all this was reserved for celebrities (freezing the ovaries) but apparently not... The ovaries thing is all a bit pie--in-the-sky as I don't think any babies have been conceived from frozen ovaries yet, but it's early days.

We are starting IVF (frozen embryos for now) next week which all seems very quick (GOOD), then whip out the ovary whilst I'm having radiotherapy, then have chemo after that. Followed by hormonal. That's plan B propoesd by Miss M the Fertility lady. Plan A simply is to start chemo, followed by radio. Miss S is going to chat with MIss C and Dr S to check that all this is fine with them. The problem is with the fertility treatment is that the mega doses of hormones may trigger off the cancer, but our argument is that we're blasting it with chemo after a couple of weeks, so if the cancer is triggered off again we're quickly getting rid.

Phil's in a v grumpy mood as he killed his computer on Friday (accidentally). The hard drive has gone to the big computer graveyard in the sky. I tried joking at the Clinic saying we could get his new computer cyrogenically frozen. He wasn't amused. We're both in the v nice internet cafe and must go now.

Friday, July 28, 2006

The Causes of Breast Cancer

One of the first things that crosses your mind when you're given your cancer diagnosis is, as I said to our lovely Doctor at the time 'What causes it?' and he said, 'Nobody knows'. Myself and my betrothed had a little discussion over breakfast when I said getting the butter out of the fridge 'I wonder if Anchor Spreadable has given me cancer?'. He said 'There's one thing that's given you cancer and that's the Pill.' It's still a mystery and a depressing mystery at that. The fact is in the industrialised nations there's been cancer and especially breast cancer epidemics. Phil's reasoning is that whilst the Fulham Breast Cancer Haven place harp on about dairy, alcohol and soya (because of the hormones put in) that over the past 15 years I've been putting 100 times more hormones into my body on a daily basis, to prevent pregnancy. They don't go on the pill in the Third World.

The other, more major fact, is that it's extremely depressing thinking about the causes of cancer, especially when you've had it or got it. It's always the nice things that are supposed to cause it: alcohol, fat, diary products, wisdom;age, sex; the Pill, city life. I'd rather leave investigating the causes to the professionals and get on with my brilliant new life which consists of tidying up, gardening, pottering around, meditation, yoga, The Alexander Technique, enjoying being spoilt by everyone I've ever met, reading, writing, drinking, laughing, watching TV, listening to the radio, wedding planning and talking to all my lovely friends on the phone.

Thursday, July 27, 2006

Hair News Update; PR Watch 6

I was quite amazed that when I typed in Vidal Sassoon To google for a free hair cut at the afore mentioned establishment there were literally essays from women saying how a hair cut works. Fortunately, although I do love my hair and the thought of it growing back straight makes me want to stab my eyes out, I do actually prefer Life itself so it all seems a bit academic worrying about that tiny facet of the side effect of Chemo. Anyway I'm getting a bargain haircut, SHORT for the first time in my life, possibly even shvaven at some bits. Coloured even. I've booked in to Vidal Sassoon no less on 1st August for the whole morning for the princely sum of eleven british pounds. But in order to almost look forward (?) to it falling out I am thinking about getting a tattoo on my head. His Highness doesn't like tattoos - but again if the hair grows back then it doesn't matter... Perhaps a henna tattoo on my head as a compromise. But then I'd have to get it done while I'm not well which wouldn't be very good.

But looking at the effort these women go on the shopping websites to do reviews of these services, one does wonder if they are getting any money for it? Book Reviews I've written on Amazon are shorter and in my experience at least books change your life more than hair cuts. I do wonder about the women of today. On Woman's Hour (which annoys me almost as much as the Today programme) they had 3 'young' women on asking them whether Girl Power had worked yesterday. It's ten years since the Spice Girls uttered the words apparently. One of these women (who admittedly was 21 so hardly counts quite frankly: My Granny didn't get the vote until she was 31) said she didn't describe herself as a 'Feminist'. She thought these days it was more about equality. This had me in my usual shouting rant at the radio, except it wasn't 7am it was about 11am. 'Have you looked in the f***ing dictionary? You stupid f******* *****'. The Oxford Compact (Folio Society 2005) describes it as thus: 'A movement or theory supporting women's rights on the grounds of the equality of the sexes'. Even Phil and the two Richards have ascribed to it using that definition. Feminism isn't just about equal rights for women, but also for men; equality being the key word here.

We're getting Cookie's Rainy Day Box Ready too - visit on Saturday and might visit Auntie E too.
We're booked in to see the Fertility Clinic on Monday so I'll be fresh faced from the joy of that ready for my new hair do on Tuesday.

I've bought a crap book (again!). Too American (nothing new there) and about to go out of date yesterday. You can only understand 90% of it with a degree in computing. But perhaps the chapters on writing tips and increasing traffic are worth 8.99. I'm sure Alvin Hall would blame my parents.

Wednesday, July 26, 2006

Busy Week

We had a v busy week. Friday night - drinking, Sat night - drinking etc etc. The Fulham Haven would not be v impressed (Heavy drinking is a risk factor for b c). In fact I'm not very impressed with myself. Several days wasted, when I could be watering the garden, reading some books and sorting out my literal-ton of paperwork.

Chemo will probably start in about two weeks and the pact I've made with Phil is that in return for doing this I will never voluntarily wear a flourescent tabbard. Ever again.

I am going to have a 'Kylie Kut' before it starts and get my hair all cut off.

Thursday, July 20, 2006

Message for my Fiancee

Love you, can't be bothered to email any more - it takes too much time and Microsoft are making too much money out of me. Plus we got rid of sploggers but noone can get rid of spam.

Anyway the Holloway Road Rubbish Tip is just off Hornsey Street. Romance is of course, not dead. At all. The reason I'm doing it like this is because Orange are keeping me waiting while they chase up the broadband which is about a month late now. Apparently we are 'not registered' despite me ringing up at least twice.

While I've got a few minutes I may as well tell you I want to learn how to categorise my entries like Blaglady and Joella have done. Mine might be: 'dull' 'No one understands these entries' etc

Umming and Ahhing over Chemo

I seem to oscillate between the 'Yes, I'll be fine, Jules worked her way through Chemo' and 'No, not on your Nelly. Good God - the Early Menopause, no kids and feeling like death warmed up for six months. You must be joking'.

It's only ten per cent difference. If that and that's only with hormonal too which is virtually as bad on its own - early menopause.

My Mum's friend Camilla didn't have Chemo, and apart from being told she's only got six months to live she's absolutely fine.

But myself and my lovely friend Blaglady had a lovely time painting our nails yesterday. Something I was thinking to myself I should do more often, except when I started trying to do my right hand. I practised the Gail Porter 'Shroud' look with a green silky thing I usually wear as a beach wrap. Phil says he's going to get me a combat scarf for my head and a Che Guervara T shirt. He says he's also going to go with a shaved head in sympathy.

The problem with the Cancer is I keep on shrieking 'I need more information, Why havem't any clinical trials been done on vegans?' And then I get presented with the information and promptly start reaching for 'Shropshire Life'.

Wednesday, July 19, 2006

Mentoring your Mentors

All the rage these days is ‘Mentoring’. I’ve got about two hundred of them (mentors/tees) and the trick is you have to keep on reminding yourself of what you’re mentoring them about and what they’re mentoring you about. I think you get to a certain age and you suddenly lose the plot and think, hang on a minute ‘Who’s the Mentor?’, then you come to your senses and say ‘Oh Yes, half a sugar please’.

What you’re hoping they’ll do is encourage you to give up sugar completely and refuse to put any in, then when you’ve had a nervous breakdown about that it turns out that they actually say don’t take Milk. So you have to go out and get some Peppermint Tea, can’t be bothered and end up drinking the left over Baileys in the fridge from Christmas.

To take the ‘Mentoring the Mentors’ a bit further but without the tea analogy , I personally think the line from Aretha Franklin & Eurythmics line ‘Behind Every Great Man is a Great Woman’ - Sisters are Doing It for Themselves (1986) could be explored further. What about the Muses in Art & Literature? OK, granted they didn’t do anything apart from sit there – but purely to inspire is enough isn’t it?

Isn't it amazing that those photos are the same person? David Clutterbuck who wrote 'Everyone needs a Mentor'. I could write a book called 'Everyone needs a mentor for every single thing they do'. I could do with one for putting out the washing. And one for Cellulite. Etc. Anyway, I'm working on it. David Clutterbuck could do with one to sort out his photos on the web. Ditch the one with the blue background Dave.

Tuesday, July 18, 2006

The Making of Love - Part 3

This image is a lovely Hydrangea from the Hampton Court Palace Show ten days ago. I'm thinking about Hydrangeas for the wedding but in 'flower language' they mean 'Boastfulness'. Am I bovvered?

Anyway, I learnt three things when the monitor cable got detached from the computer an hour ago:

1) The addition of the 'neurochemical' sentence on Love in the Penguin Dictionary of Psychology, between 95-01 - hadn't spotted it before.
2) I don't understand Wikipedia. An hour or so ago on their page defining Love they were very negative and were quoting Nietzsche. I had prepared a whole paragraph dissing them too. Now Nietzsche's missing. Was it a matter of great minds think alike? Did my psychic dissing of them affect them? And this is the point with the internet - you can change your mind just like that. History disappears before it's been made.
3) That Love beats all other quotation references hands down in the Oxford Dictionary of Quotations including God, Life, Death, Art and Dog.

Love Begets love. (C17 proverb) That's more like it.

The Making of Love - Part 2

Philosophy, the 'Love of Knowledge' - as Phil means Love as we all know - has been dominated by men all these years. Consequently the one area where women share an equal platform with men, if not dominate - the Making of *Love*, not only are women completely excluded but the concept of *Love* itself is absent.

I have four Dictionaries of Philosophy from different publishers (Blackwell, Macmillan, Penguin and Oxford). Love isn't in any of these apart from the Oxford. But a pathetically small entry, where even 'gnosticism' is longer (a second century belief which died two centuries later).

And the definition is very negative too ' has been thought of as reducible either to the sex drive...or to a struggle for power'.

I have two dictionaries of psychology, which coincidentally are the same publisher (Penguin). The earlier one (pub 95) was left by a disturbed Richard Dawkins fan who tried to burn me alive, which thank the Lord I survived, and am here to be able to not only tell the tale but compare the two dictionaries. And again, the Editor did not agree with me in that Love is an ideal to be aspired to. In fact, Psychologists like Philosophers seem to think that this important aspect to our lives has nothing to do with them:
'Psychologists would have been wise to have abdicated responsibility for this term and left to poets.'

But most interestingly, the change in definition from 95-2001 is in the last paragraph of their definition of Love 'Is Love merely an emotive state that results from particular neurochemical actions, and by implication, crassly manipulable?'

Feeling more depressed, I turned my attention to Wikipedia and managed to get the photo above.
Make Love not War.

Sunday, July 16, 2006

The Making of Love

One of my favourite books is 'The Making of the English Working Class'. For about ten years I've been thinking about 'The Making of Love' but people including most people have said to me 'But you don't know what you're on about. You know Jack-shit. You need to have studied feminism/cultural studies/music/classics/English Lit/poetry/Biology to do something like that. Anyway no-one will buy it.'

And Now. Five years Later. I don't care. I'm just going to do it. Write a post-modern social history of love. What's the difference between care and love?

It's a Long Way to the Top if you wanna Rock and Roll.

Buckets of Love

Many times have I tried to make this blog exciting/interesting but without the help of Stephen Hawkings/Bill Gates it is nigh on impossible/improbable.

I have two sound tracks which have been made possible by my betrothed; Tattontastic Uplifting and Tattontastic All time Classics. Anyway to cut a long story short, didn't Kylie look attractive tonight?

If I was IT literate I would have a thousand, nay a trillion photos of the most important things to me on here. Hampton Palace Garden Show from last weekend. Not to mention the soundtracks I am on about. And the work of art that one could refer to as my bedroom mirror.

Here's Tattontastic All time Classics to those of you not invited to the wedding:

Honey Pie 9 of 13 2 of 2 2:41 The Beatles The Beatles (White Album) [Disc 2] Rock 6 16/07/2006 23:23
I Was Made To Love Her 10 of 19 1 of 2 2:37 Stevie Wonder The Definitive Collection [Disc 1] R&B 6 16/07/2006 23:25
(I'm Not Your) Steppin' Stone 7 of 29 1 of 1 2:20 The Monkees The Definitive Monkees Pop 5 18/06/2006 14:06
Soul Stripper 4 of 5 1 of 1 6:25 AC/DC '74 Jailbreak Rock 7 18/06/2006 14:13
Everything's Not Lost 10 of 10 1 of 1 7:15 Coldplay Parachutes Alternative & Punk 3 18/06/2006 14:20
It's A Long Way To The Top (If You Wanna Rock 'N' Roll) 1 of 9 1 of 1 5:15 AC/DC High Voltage Rock 3 18/06/2006 14:26
Rock 'n' Roll Singer 2 of 9 1 of 1 5:03 AC/DC High Voltage Rock 5 18/06/2006 14:31

Not a woman amongst them. But were they writing about women? I dost think.

Here's Tattontastic Uplifting to those of you invited to the wedding and still in the real world:

Put Your Records On 3 of 11 1 of 1 3:35 Corinne Bailey Rae Corinne Bailey Rae R&B 60 16/07/2006 12:31
Love Me Do 8 of 14 1 of 1 2:22 The Beatles Please Please Me Rock 16 16/07/2006 12:34
Dirty Woman 8 of 8 1 of 1 7:09 Black Sabbath Technical Ecstasy Metal 14 16/07/2006 12:41
Dancing Shoes 4 of 13 1 of 1 2:21 Arctic Monkeys Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not Alternative & Punk 152 16/07/2006 12:43
I'm A Believer 5 of 29 1 of 1 2:45 The Monkees The Definitive Monkees Pop 14 16/07/2006 12:46
As 8 of 19 1 of 2 3:29 Stevie Wonder The Definitive Collection [Disc 1] R&B 12 16/07/2006 12:49
Billie Jean 6 of 21 1 of 1 4:53 Michael Jackson Thriller Pop 17 16/07/2006 12:54

Friday, July 14, 2006

Ignorance is Bliss

Unfortunately the stark figures were presented to me yesterday, which 24/7 meditation can't do nowt about. There is, as we all know, no cure for cancer. On the other hand, Breast Cancer is the best one you can get. In ten years time I have an 80% chance of still being alive. Which is quite good. In fact very good. If I got exam results like that I'd be pretty damn pleased. But this statistic increases to 90% if I take all the poisons which are currently on offer - chemo, hormonal, and radio. I'm effectively poisoning myself for 8 months to give myself a 10% increased possibility of being alive in 10 years time. My chances of dying from something else in the next ten years are not quite 1%.

The problem with not doing anything now (which bearing in mind I haven't yet been made redundant and so am currently enjoying six months paid sick leave) is that microscopic bits of the tumour could have gone to my lung, liver, blood, bones or (possibly worst) brain, which is virtually impossible to detect until that's killing you anyway.

Thinking 'Knowledge is Power' yesterday morning I 'tooled myself up' by reading what could be quite frankly out of date material. One of the stories was a woman (older than me of course) who had a very similar tale to mine - 20mm lump but aggressive grade, who had a lumpectomy like me. Anyway a few years down the line (after she had a horrendous time with chemo) she died anyway after it went to her brain.

But could the chemo have prolonged her life by a year? Who knows? Was it her silly husband's fault who went off with another man which can't have helped?

Sunday, July 09, 2006

How long does it take to write a poem?

The fact is Shakespeare was a Time Lord, perhaps even Einstein, who went back in time from about 2132 to whenever he was born and wrote his poems and stuff then. There's no way round it.

All the poetry experts I know - Blaglady, Mum, Dad, E, Roy Fisher and M all say they take a lot of 'work'. You write it, then get ashamed of the content, then rewrite it.

AS you can see from the evidence below, the only way you can write a good poem is to spend a lot of time on it. Not 10 seconds. I rest my case.

Here's another one:

There was a young lady called Tatton
Who wasn't a very big fat 'un
They said stop writing poems
She said I'm flow'in
And then she went along almost totally forgotten

That took two minutes

Blagging some poetry lessons

Poirot has a very nice voice
But not really my first ever choice
When the World Cup is on
We like to have fun
And not let the Italians or Belgians win the toss

Friday, July 07, 2006

9pm - Relatively Good News

The malignant lump was 18mm with a 2mm margin and basically it hasn't spread - not spread to the lymph nodes or anywhere else from what I can gather. So to all intents and purposes we've got rid of it. However, it was more aggressive than they thought - Grade 3 rather than Grade 2 so they may try and persuade me to have Chemo and go on Tamoxifen. That will be to get rid of any microscopic bits possibly still left in my blood, bones, kidneys, lungs etc.

We don't have to make any decisions until we've seen Dr S (another female consultant - this time oncologist) which will be in a couple of weeks. Because of my youth it is likely that they'll try and persuade me to go for the whole caboodol [need help with spelling on that one]. We've tried telling them that fertility/womanhood is a big issue (not only does Chemo make you infertile and lose your hair but Tamoxifen makes you put on weight and get hair where you don't want it) but they're concerned about recurrence and other such horrible issues.

Anyway we went and had a celebratory drink of some rather fine Belgian beer at the lovely pub where my betrothed has decided he wants to hold his 30th birthday in a couple of months.

I had a nice chat with one of my GPs, Dr H, trying to get yet another sick note out of them. She said what Hewitt was doing was (her words) a 'f***ing disaster'. She gave me one for a month which is much better, than the ten days odd which I have been getting. I was going to give them a speech about suffragettes and Tolpuddle martyrs but didn't have to.

It turns out that 3 of my friends are doing the 'Race for Life' this weekend (G, P and J)- all I think with my name on their backs. Excellent - I'll try and get photos up on the blog.

11.33am: Corridor, Homerton Hospital

Sitting in Homerton Hospital, waiting for Miss C my consultant surgeon to see me again. My appointment was 40 minutes ago. But there are still 3 people in front of me.

Just seen Barbara Roche - the ex- home office Minister. What the hell is she doing here? Presumably she doesn't represent anyone in Hackney. It must be a friend or relative. She's very smartly dressed and doesn't look like she's got cancer. Anyway she's trying to push in.

Typical. For a year now I've been trying to tell the right wing of the Labour Party what a mess Blair and Hewitt are making of the NHS.

Then I get breast cancer and one of their clan tries to push in front of me in the queue.

I'm also making a list of things to complain about with regards to the Hommer (as me and Phil like to call it). It is a very good hospital, but if you spend long enough in here then you can do this.

They've got this lovely outpatients waiting area - natural light, good ventilation, spacious and Rennie-Macintosh-esque artwork all around so you don't feel like you're contracting MRSA every five seconds. You register there. But then, 2 seconds later they call you into an unventilated, artificially lit, 200 degree temperature corridor. Where the only seats are opposite the toilets. There they keep you waiting for 2 hours. There is no need because the nice bit is just round the corner.

Oppressive is an understatement.

Me and Phil had a row about it. He didn't want to move away from the toilet seats when some others, still on the corridor but further down away from the toilets came free. I moved - alone. Ha, I thought. I am independent. About a minute passed and he came to sit next to me. I gave him a rewarding kiss.

Now directly opposite me, rather than watch people grapple with the locking system of the hospital toilet door and hear various suspicious splashing sounds there are 'Poems for the Waiting Room'. BUt - on an A4 piece of paper, 3 yards away too small for me to read.

Yes, I could stand up and go and read them. In fact, I've just strained my neck. What would Madeline, our Alexander Technique tutor think of that I wonder?

Thursday, July 06, 2006

Put the champagne on ice - Profile views have hit 200

But they were that yesterday so I'm getting bored with counting them. They seem to be more reliable that the number of hits to the blog, which seem to go up by 10 every day; me going back to the thing.

Richard Bacon on Capital Radio Drive Time is a comedy genius. I'm sure he must know he does it, but he is so Alan Partridge that it's utter hilarity. He just asked people to text in the swearword he was thinking of, saying it was a long one.

I tried to ring Capital to make a dedication to Paula at work who's doing the 'Race for Life' for Breast Cancer on Sunday and she's going to wear my name which I'm chuffed about.

Lost broadband again so may as well go back to carrier pigeon. I think I've learnt how to do photos but haven't got the computer capacity.

One thing I did manage to do earlier when I had broadband was to do a 'wish list' on Amazon. It's a bit like retail therapy, but without spending any. You can pretend you're getting the entire back catalogue of Blackadder, but instead play with the kittens when it doesn't turn up - but at least you've got quite a reliable list of what you do want. I tried looking for 'Embroidered Birds' for the wedding dress. The only thing Amazon could come up with, which I thought was a bit rubbish quite frankly was a woman's book - but she only had birds sitting in it. Sitting? I mean come on - what about birds FLYING? I've been thinking all day that perhaps that's what I should do - go and do a degree in Art.

Anyway, tomorrow is the appointment where we find out what further treatment I need to have. Fingers crossed, touch wood etc etc.

Actually managed to read most of the Observer from Sunday today which was quite good. It's not as bad as I thought it was. They had a whole pull out on Africa, which actually had some input from Africans rather than normal claptrap from Westerners.

Also made some delicious celery soup and roasted veg stock. Got more fruit than Pete Beale. All delivered from the lovley Ocado people. Yes, you may have to remortgage to get a weekly shop. But they deliver it to your kitchen. And you don't have to further inflate Dame Shirley Porter's coffers.

Wednesday, July 05, 2006

How to ruin your finances in one afternoon

The problem with not practising what you preach is that you end up looking like an idiot.

My first jaunt out alone, further than 200 yards, in two weeks had to have its rewards after the hell that precipitated its outcome (a bus journey of 15 minutes to Islington). So I have spent basically a week's wages in half an hour, without getting the main thing I wanted as I was so tired after getting the things I hadn't gone out for.

I have bought 6 tickets to Love Box Weekender in Victoria Park on 23rd July (cost £227)
Then I bought Groove Armada's Greatest Hits - £16
Tracey Emin's film - £25
Dancing in the Rain - £7
Sideways - £7
A present for Phil - £6
Two dresses which I can actually wear (at the moment too sore to put stuff over head) - £36
Dr Hessayon's Rose Expert - £7

I didn't get the designer swallows (for wedding shoe inspiration) from Aria, a designer shop in Islington.

What I normally do when I spend too much money is take it back. But I'm not going to do that this time. I'm going to enjoy everything.

The reason for the high expenditure on the Groove Armada stuff is that I'm thinking about what we want for our first song - for the band. I'm hoping to corrupt their (Haggis Horns) soulful minds into a bit more heavy duty infiltration.

You see Tom, the lead guy of Groove Armada won Young Musician of the Year (playing the trombone) and so did Malcolm (Trombone player in Haggis Horns) and so did Gareth (Hopefully doing flute at the wedding). So you see - gotta chill, take it easy, superstyle, keep me going strong, feel good, little by little.

See you baby

Financial Management

I know when I first starting doing this blog there were going to be tutorials about how to manage your finances

1) Join the local library
2) Borrow an Alvin Hall book and Read it. Preferably on a Friday or Saturday night.
3) Start monitoring your daily expenditure - eg get a diary and write in in exactly how much you've spent on a day.
4) Start analysing your expenditure. EG you spend 50% on books. 50% on food (this is an example from me, so books is an area you know you can cut down)
5) Stop spending so much on your 'weak areas'.
6) Increase your income; in my case become a Union steward and make sure the idiots in charge sufficiently financially renumerate you for the hell that is known as Work. In P's case do a load of locums.
7) Have financial meetings with yourself (and when you get a partner them); And this is VERY important: ON A FRIDAY NIGHT for an hour. If you do it on a Friday (the financial meeting) then this discourages you from spending any money at the weekend
8) Transfer all your debts to 0% credit cards
9) Pay off your debts with all the money you're saving from not spending on books
10) Go on a walk and meditate.

Tuesday, July 04, 2006

Who's independent?

It's been raining and I nearly got a photo of some lightning but, being slightly slower than the speed of light, just missed it. Instead got a photo of Marmite washing herself as she got wet in the rain. Anyway, because of my useless IT skills combined with Fabrice (our nice French neighbour who we 'borrow' broadband from) switching his broadband off or whatever he does when it switches off, the IT capacity of this computer is now equivalent to my chances of becoming the next Jordan. So yet again I cannot post the photo on the blog or put the correct damn time up.

But really enjoying watching films. I persuaded Phil to record 'The Low Down' which is my favourite film - the only film I've seen more than 3 times. It's set in Dalston, (where I used to live) and it's about a guy in his twenties who works in an Animation production company (which I used to do)generally having a good time mooching around doing not much at all (which I still do). It's set in present time (the late nineties, it's about 7 years old). I love it. It celebrates art - really enjoying every minutae of detail and it's like 'Lost in Translation', in that it's reflective but I think it's about a million times better as it's not racist. There's really poignant bits as it's before September 11th (9/11) as the guy meets a girl who says 'When I see plane go by above I always think of holidays' and he says 'I always think of it crashing'. The very last shot is of a plane going over - it probably was one of the last films I saw before September 11th. My only complaint is - why did the main character have to be a guy? Also they could have had some positive portrayals of black characters - the only black people are the druggies.

Phil got bored with it though. He prefers 'Herbie goes on Tour' etc; I'm trying to educate him when it comes to films. 'It's Art darling' is what I say.

Then watched Thelma and Louise which GG had bought me as a present. And I remembered why it's not my favourite film. One word. Violence. I had to fast forward the violent bits. Yes, Brad Pitt is fit, but let's face it who wasn't in 1992? Feminism isn't about nicking all the nasty bits from men, it's about persuading them to engage in the lovelier aspects of femininity too - love, compassion, communication and sensitivity. So, I am glad I've got the film, but it's not my favourite.

Then, because darling was working I actually watched a TV film. 'Ghosts of Mississipi' on BBC 1. And I thought it was great. I'm not normally a fan of court room dramas - America is so dependent on her lawyers, she's forgotten community and humanity. But Alex Baldwin was this nice lawyer (I know, hard to believe) fighting for a black man shot dead by a racist thug in the 60s. He wins. I would say that the 'n' word is more of a swear word here than the 'c' word, but the way they were showing it over there, it's like people are allowed to say it on TV. Also, even the 'liberal' white middle class people don't have black friends. There is no integration. It just makes me thank God I don't live over there.

Sunday, July 02, 2006


This is very childish

But please. Come on. If Wayne Rooney can essentially slap someone else in the quarter final of the World Cup and get away with it, then I can tell Wikipedia to F OFF.

5 or 6 entries on one 'day'

For those of you who can actually count - it looks like being at the moment which counts as the same day as yesterday at the moment - 5 full entries on one day. That's a Guinness world record for the amount of blog entries by myself on one 'day' (if it's allowed) over a twenty four hour period. If you can work out my address (clue - I'm on the electoral roll) and send me a Get Well Soon Card, I'll send you a signed postcard of Stoke Newington cf 2005.

Norris McWhirter

Still don't know how to work the internet. But Norris McWhirter was a waste of space. But on a more serious note, I think I have broken my own world record for the amount ogf entries on my site on one 'day'.

Love to all

I don't care what time it is

Like another heroine of mine [Joella] suddenly it dawns on me I don't care what time it is. Phil has left his blackberry here, the only person who could possibly calculate the correct (and I MEAN correct) time is some astrophysicist/TimeLord/Goddess/parent and would it matter anyway?

And then I start thinking about the other Y axisses (or is it Axes?). Truth, Love, Faith, Hope. How on earth would they measure them? And what about enjoyment? Light of course should be on the Y axis, but then without Time what the hell does it matter? Then you have matter itself. And then the Blackberry rings; it is Kingston. Phil has left his bleep in theatre. I suggest they try the Doctors' Mess.

Blog Time - PLease God help me

I am writing this at 1.47am yet the stupid blog says whatever it says. The only reason I did the last blog was that it would be the second one for July and according to this American bloody rubbish it is the same day. Somebody please help.

Parental Censorship : PC

Both parents, despite missing my campaign of about 12 months ago to get comments on my blog, are now the most frequent commentators. Better than both John Motson or Mark Lawrenson.

But, a bit like fascism, they work in mysterious ways. Rather than post a comment as say 'Anna's Mum' or 'Anna's Dad' they use supposedly obscure pseudonyms, or even, (so very 1980s) ring me up in person and say that 'using the word scum is using the same language as the BNP'. And I think to myself 'Are they advocates of freedom of speech or do they mean to suppress it?'. And a bit like George Orwell, I am caught, between the two (or three in my case) should I go with them - and delete a bit of history? Or go with my gut instinct and delete slightly less history at a later point?

I met a self-confessed fascist tonight. I was shocked, that in 2006 with gay rights etc in London this could happen, but yes it did. He said "If anyone laid a finger on my Sinead I would kill them, wouldn't you try and kill someone who tried to kill your partner?' I said 'No of course not, I'm a pacifist. Every human life has value and it's terrible that you think this way. It's wrong. I would never hurt a human being'. Simon, the true anarchist, with a shaved head and no job said 'Well yes, I would and if it was the state doing it I would disagree with you and say no the State cannot intervene'. And socialism appeals again. We don't let people get away with murder. That's what happened in the Spanish Civil War. The fascists won because the pacifists wouldn't side with the anarchists. But who's who? I was asking myself as I downed some more anaestically pleasing alcohol.

Saturday, July 01, 2006

Engagement Bliss

Spoke to one of the last people - my beautiful, face of an angel friend Allison from Middlesborough - about the bad news last night. She was shocked and upset, but I said that we were planning to come up and visit in between my radiotherapy sessions in the summer, some time in August, when also visiting Jenny and Derek, surrogate parents in York.

But I do feel absolutely marvellous (apart from some pain). Had the best evening ever with Phil on Tuesday, if married life is even 20% as good as that I'll be happy. Utterly spoilt. Never had so much chocolate in the house ever. It's all Green and Black too apart from some incredibly expensive French stuff from our gay French neighbour, Fabrice. Had a full house of about five guests on Wednesday night when my brother Joe came down from Leeds. Phil was working and GG from work came over. My best mate Paolo from Italy had also popped round and helped with some odd jobs like putting the washing out. We all sat outside drinking some rather excellent red wine. Malcolm, a musician mate of Joe's also turned up and we were playing Neil Young with Paolo saying 'I used to listen to this twenty years ago and not understand the words', and other such intellectual, fascinating nuggets. He got talking to GG which was quite good as both can talk for England/Italy so keeping them both going together was quite a neat trick. One of my ambitions is to write a character profile of Paolo. He is so funny that he needs to be written about he is so uniquely boring, predictable yet hilarious, Italian, beautiful-life-esque as to be unbelieveable and some of the scrapes we've got up to need documenting. You can tell Malcolm and Joe are also getting slightly more successful as they spent the entire evening shouting on their mobile phones trying to get bass players to different gigs. Malcolm was saying that he was fed up of World tours as they are 'boring'. Both Joe and Malcolm are currently riding on the back of the successful Corrine Bailey Rae, claiming that 'pop' is dead simultaneously.

The ideal thing about writing a character assasination of Paolo is 1) He is IT illiterate 2) He knows I don't mean it 3) It won't ruin my career 4) It will be funny yet correct

GG promised not to talk about work or the NHS until I return to work and instead got me a lovely card, more chocolate, a Philip Pullman book (socialist) plus Thelma and Louise DVD. I asked her for funny photos of staffside/unison people to put in my Rainy Day box. That's the thing about socialists - they need their sense of humour injection from the anarchists.

Then on Thursday we went to Cambridge to visit the beautiful baby Zia, daughter of our best man Joel and his wife Zoe. She is only six weeks old and virtually (although possibly not quite) as pampered as I am at the moment. I gave Joel a hard time saying that the one thing people remember about a wedding is whether the best man's speech is funny or not. He said he wasn't a stand up comedian. I said he'd better start practising. Phil is more concerned about the stag do. Phil was very dismissive of the present I had got Zia - a folio society hard back edition of 'Anne of Green Gables' with an introduction by Margaret Atwood. But it went down a storm, as of course it was Mummy's favourite book (which she had disclosed whilst pregnant, admitting crying whilst watching the video). The other link which I hadn't realised is the Canadian link (LM Montgomery Canadian and Zoe spent some years there) so it was even better and something that can be kept for generations. We ended up spending the night in Cambridge - in the wonderful camper-van which is still code-word for Anna&Phil special time 'Camper-van time' as we had such an amazing holiday in J&Z's campervan a year ago.