Fed up with Facebook

Facebook is all well and good, but the problem with the real world is the rain. You never think 'Oh, I can't be bothered to switch on the computer because xyz might happen'. Yet tonight, with a nice invitation to go out and because I might, God forbid, get slightly wet and go to bed later than 10pm, I'm thinking 'I can't be bothered'. Yet I can be bothered to look at random photographs of strangers plus people I haven't seen for fifteen, twenty years and realise that on Facebook's stupid options you don't have 'sister' of friend or dare I say it, neighbour. I suppose in America people don't make friends with their neighbours because they're all rednecks.

If I sound bitter, that's because I am. We had another meeting this morning - me and xyz. Another friend of mine from a few years ago said 'Never cry in front of your enemies'. At the time I took this very seriously - ended up on medication for a while. Z said something similar this morning 'You've got to be dispassionate, forget the emotion, look at the legal intricacies'. I did a politician-esque speech in response to this saying that passion creates politics and politics creates the law. Yet, with superb irony and quite hilariously my voice broke half way through (through emotion of course) and I couldn't finish the speech, with tears in my eyes. So Z and my other friend from years ago are right. Of course.

Tony Blair's final speech had an impact on me, “If it is on occasion the place of low skullduggery it is more often the place for the pursuit of noble causes" about the houses of parliament. For me, belief is not science, because if I don't agree with something I WILL find the evidence to support my view. And that's what most politicians are like. Belief comes from passion not from science. And science comes from belief anyway - belief in something has to trigger where you're getting your so-called facts from.

People say, you've got to de-politicise xyz. I think, Politicise. Let's introduce 'neighbour' as an option on Facebook. It'd be a good start. Make friends with the Rednecks. Easier than doing an impression of Tony Blair at a meeting.

We're moving to Leeds

Yes, sorry to disappoint all our London fans, and much in the same way that Posh and Becks have gone to LA, we're going to Leeds. Husband has got a job there, I've got family there, we can buy a castle, what more can I say?

Homerton hospital is back on course for its privatisation plans, the people using our drive as a toilet for both number ones and twos can carry on in peace, Leeds Bicycle Users Group are quaking in their boots, and my employers have cracked open the champagne.

Tatton for Governor

I'm standing for Governor of Homerton Hospital under the combined banner of the Green Party and Keep Hackney NHS Public. Against cuts and privatisation and for expansion of services. Anyway there's a postal strike today so because I posted my form yesterday means it might not get in. If I do get in to the contest, it's the first contested election I'll be standing in. I have stood to be elected before for things, but when nobody else wants to do it, so I've always got in.

I've decided already that if they try to do anything I don't like then I'll resign, so if I do get elected I might not keep the post for long. The other problem is that next year I'm likely to be very busy indeed. Doing my MA which I'm even more enthusiastic about than ever because of the National Audit Office report on dementia, this governor thing, which may not take off of course, and the job which I'm wanting to keep to as many hours as possible for financial reasons. And I'm enjoying it which is quite unusual for me. And my wifely duties, which take up much more time than you think.

Three Amazing Things (TAT)

1) I managed to get almost all my points across at an important meeting
2) My bank account is not overdrawn
3) I now have 36 friends on Facebook.

I do feel like it's draining my energy though - I know that's not an amazing thing, but I just can't keep it up. There's only so much time you can spend looking up your brother's school friends on Facebook, before the TV license man comes round and locks you up. Time I could be spending actually seeing or speaking to my real friends in the real world, in the new, fresh air pubs. Or paying the TV license. In fact I wouldn't be surprised if they used this blog in court on that issue. Or the other. In fact I'll just save all that time management nonsense and just hop over to the police station. Except I can cycle now. Ha ha. You see the fourth amazing thing pops up and we're back to FAT all over again.

Overtaking Men

My new bike is absolutely amazing, not only can I almost do wheelies, but I can stop quite quickly, I can go at what feels like a hundred miles an hour, the bike doesn't click when you push your foot down, and you feel like you're flying. And this morning I overtook two men. Just to clarify that amazing fact, I have NEVER overtaken anyone on my old 'KingCYCLE' bike - even the disabled, obese and children (sometimes all three in that category) would overtake me. And this morning, as I was zooming down Kingsland Road, which doesn't seem the death trap it seemed on Friday, I overtook two men on my way to work, as if I was in the Tour De France or something. And the fact that I was heading for a car door didn't faze me, I touched the brakes and hey presto, nearly over the handlebars, but yes, stationary.

Tatton Mayhem

There is an event on the mountain cyclists calendar called 'Mountain Mayhem'. My equivalent, which incidentally doesn't raise that much for charity funnily enough is called 'Tatton Mayhem'. It involves driving round North London with a lot of rubbish in your car, following policemen with Thai Brides taking you to fields. My husband lasted about 4.5 nano seconds. Then you spend what could be 5 lovely hours, but instead you're the inspector of some mobile toilets for the Royal College of Nursing, without any clinical wipes, literally sitting around. Your husband meanwhile has run off with the Thai bride, and her girlfriend, a phillopeno woman, selling off all your clothes for five pounds. And I'm not joking.

Welcome to the world of Carbooting. A bit like Dogging, without the celebrities. Anyway, to cut a long story short, we made about thirty quid, which considering we were selling off ten grammes of mould was quite good. We came back. I made a roast, we moaned again about friends on facebook not being categorised on 'carboot' level, then put Paolo on facebook and Phil is watching 'Coming to America'. Paolo is still on Facebook, but at least he's quiet. But Police Academy 2 is better - and we should know because we watched it about 2 minutes ago.

Tatton, Queen of the Elves

I'm sitting here trying to concentrate on blogging/facebook whilst Lord of the Rings is on. And just about getting away with it. It looks like I'm an enthusiastic minute taker of the dwarves of Gondor. Husband is none the wiser as the DVD is laced with a tasty combo of crack/cocaine/heroin. At least I think it is as I haven't got any other logical explanation for the clinical signs of addiction in this room currently.

TO be honest, I think actually watching a video of people going on their home computers and facebooking/googling/blogging is more interesting than this pap. The skulls of Gondor/Mandor/Horses/summoned dead/Endor/Condorman are on the screen now.

I'm thinking about my new bike (Specialised Hard Rock) and the carboot sale tomorrow. We're selling garbage to bargain hunters. We've done our research on Ebay and a lot of crappy shot glasses just go unsold, so we're banking on the normal Tattontastic 3pm 5p sale phenomenon that's shocked Holloway Road into elvish submission recently. They love it and last time lapped up mouldy, rusty crap at 5p a time. No doubt my Dad will get on to me about laying into my readership/clientele.

Call it arrogance, call it a sense of humour, but I think the Elves will reign supreme and see a break even at least.

Pouilly de Fume, Steak Au Poive & Tamoxifen

My wonderful husband cooked the most delicious Steak Au Poivre last night - despite having never cooked it before - whilst I relaxed supping Pouilly De Fume we brought back from honeymoon, which I thought was absolutely delicious combining bone dry excitement with gooseberries and apple. Marvellous, can life get any better? I was thinking to myself as I was browsing the National Audit Office report on dementia.

Finally a report comes out and I love it.

Tamoxifen is quite simply a different kettle of fish. Give me the national audit office report any day of the week. Tamoxifen, definitely a Tuesday night thing.

I quite like living up to Blaglady's 'odd blog' title.

Succumbbed to Facebook - after 5 nanoseconds

Rather than waiting for inspiration from my parents, which is hardly 21st century motivational management textbook speak (and I should know), I just emailed all the people in my inbox who I could be bothered to, who wouldn't be too offended to find out I was 'left wing'. And hey presto, I now have eleven friends. And I've put away all the clothes, started taking Tamoxifen at night, which is de-rigeur for all us sensitive people who hate it and other various things like pack the tea spoons I got for the office at the weekend.

Fascinating stuff. But more fascinating would you believe that the sort of stuff that comes up on Facebook. I'm amazed there aren't photos of people putting their rubbish out, cleaning their teeth and turning their ignition in their cars on their way to work.

I think it's for more arty people than me - you can see the people who've spent hours on their pages, doting every t and making themselves sound amazing.

Jealousy. One of the seven deadly sins I believe.

Flabbergasted by Facebook - the perils of 21st century friendship

There's been a lot in the media over the past few weeks about even old people like us having to get on 'Facebook'. And dare I say it, we have a few, Ahem, young friends who recently suggested that we may as well not live than not be on facebook. And one of my even older friends than myself sent me an email today requesting that I become a friend of theirs on it - she's got 61 herself!

So feeling bamboozelled, I felt I had to join - you can't see them you see if you don't. Anyway what was flabbergasting was that you register and then it automatically searches through your email addresses and shows you everyone in your address book who has a 'facebook' page. I felt like I was pilfering through peoples' underwear drawers and had to look away. The photos some of my so-called friends have up there are shocking. Most of them haven't got photos - they're the ones I know better and I have no idea what that means, if it does have a meaning.

Anyway to cut a long story short I'm not going to email any of my so-called friends asking them to be my friends as I don't want to disappoint myself if they then refuse to call me a friend. I might check what the etiquette is in these situations, or alternatively wait for my parents to do it, which normally means it's about time I did it.

More Wedding Highlights

Nikos's Mum saying I'm the most beautiful bride ever.
Joe, Dad and Richie Rich Rich saying I was stunning
Phil saying I look amazing
Dad saying it was like a country wedding out of Pride and Prejudice with everyone milling around outside the chapel
Helen saying I'm the nicest person she's ever met
Auntie Enid saying that we radiated happiness through the marquee
Cheryl saying we were the happiest couple she's ever seen
Len's wonderful video with everyone saying their memories of us
And the dress is still immaculate

Photos are up!

It sounds sad, but I'm almost as excited about my photos being on the web than when I got engaged and when I got married. You re-live it you see. Especially with our photographer who is quite frankly a genius

The problem with blaming yourself

The problem with blaming yourself is that it's the start of depression. If you can get out of that habit, like many politicians know, you're on the way to a relatively happy life. Last year when I had the world's most painful biopsy and had to take a week off work for pain, due to everyone's reaction at the time, I thought it was my poor pain tolerance. I now know that is absolute rubbish - yesterday I had the same procedure and today I am absolutely fine - in no pain whatsoever. It was how the nasty doctor did it - with insufficient local anaesthetic in the wrong place. The nice doctor (who is from Slovakia) yesterday let me hold Phil's hand, and I held the nurse's hand in my other hand. Not to mention a better, more gentle approach.

Other good news is that the wedding presents arrived yesterday - and we've unpacked and used some of them. The cats have already smashed one. Trotsky is a lot better (as you might hope after three thousand sterling pounds).

We've seen the photos and we love them - although I'm a bit disappointed that we haven't got some key people. But hey ho. They go up on the web at the weekend - can't wait.

We've reached a compromise with the Today programme and Capital - if I get up before Phil I'm allowed to put Capital on.

A beautiful mauve poppy has flowered today in the garden. Photo forthcoming.

Breaking A Golden Rule aka 'Don't bother to read this I'm just moaning'

My number one Golden Rule, which I'm about to break, is that Bad News should always be delivered face to face. This came from my days working at Hackney Council where we knew there were going to be redundancies, and someone from the finance team told me I was going to be made redundant - leaving an answerphone message on my mobile phone. I was devastated. When it came down to it, my manager at the time called me into his office and told me. It wasn't that bad like that. You can't really feel much when it's just you and this other guy sitting in the office with as much time as you want. You just want to go home and get out of there.


Anyway the 6th June isn't a very lucky day for us to put it mildly. On that day last year I had a mammogram - not that bad considering it was 6.6.6. Yesterday was in a different league. To start with all over the BBC was news that the NHS is £500m in surplus. This caused an angry row with me and my husband. Not particularly that we disagreed with each other, but because he said it wasn't healthy me getting angry about something I can't do anything about. My point was that the NHS is the most important thing we've got - more important than education as if you haven't got anyone to educate then you're b**gg**. So the point of it being in 'surplus' is what exactly? I said to Phil it's like Oxfam deciding it wants to put £200million in its reserves - in fact it's worse as this money is simply going back to the Treasury. To his credit, Hubby then emailed his doctor mates and asked them how many extra junior doctor training posts this 'surplus' would create. The answer is around 40,000.

This takes us neatly to the second unpleasant thing - Hubby still hasn't got a job in August he found out yesterday. Nothing unusual or too upsetting about that you might think, apart from the fact that he is a qualified surgeon, and that this news just isn't coincidental from the BBC's positive crappy spin.

Then the annual mammogram I had turned out not to be as straightforward as we were hoping. It was all very pleasant apart from the fact I've got to go back on Wednesday for a biopsy. Apparently there's what they're hoping is 'scar tissue' - and this needs to be confirmed. Last year I had to have four days off work - just because I was in so much pain from the dratted biopsy. The woman who did it was most unpleasant - she wouldn't even let me hold Phil's hand. It was awful - worse pain than the op almost. And everyone kept on saying to me 'But it's only a biopsy, what do you mean you can't ride your bike?'. Initially I blamed the woman who did it, later on I thought 'well they had to almost kill me to find out..'. Now I'm back blaming her again. Luckily this time I'm having it done at my favourite, local hospital and the lovely Polish or whatever she is, lady doctor, who reminds me a bit of Eva Herzegovina is doing it instead of the other horrible doc. But of course this news wasn't good.
I prepared so well for the chemo - Dr S said the best anyone has ever prepared for it - so it's not even worth thinking about having to have more.

Then I arrived home to be told a friend had died (yes she was v old and yes it was expected)
and then in the post was a letter telling me my grant application for funds for the MA course I want to do has been refused - because one of the forms got in late. Then this morning
taking Trottems to the Vet was much more traumatic than I thought - it took both of us to hold her as she was squawking in pain.

So deciding I was too fragile and not in a fit state to be at work I'm at home, 'Blogging my Way Through Cancer'. And I'd better stop before the thought police arrest me.

Honeymoon Heaven - and a dislocated hock

Technically I'm still on honeymoon - professionally at least. Not returning to work until Wednesday. Hubby has returned to work. The honeymoon was brilliant - a more apt word than wonderful I think - as it has a more refreshing quality to it. Refreshed is certainly how you feel after cycling 250 miles in a few days.

Anyway, we dined like Kings, drank like bishops and cycled like professionals, and felt, acted like and actually were newly-weds. How long does that title last for? I'm hoping a couple of years at least.

Everything has been so amazing the past couple of weeks I'm trying to draw out every second. So glad we got a videographer (we called him the Video Nazi actually - that's another story). Also so looking forward to the photos! That's one of my jobs for today - booking the viewing. Even my Dad said he thought the photographer was good.

We came back last week and found that Trotsky was limping. Phil, with some authority, said it looked like a fox bite. The next day it seemed a bit worse so I took her to the Vets. (Gay VET, Gay VET - sang to the tune of GAY BAR, GAY BAR - that's also another story). It is a dislocated Hock - or ankle. They've quoted us THREE THOUSAND POUNDS. Fortunately I ignored my husband's advice a year ago and the animal is insured, so we don't have to worry about that side of things. The service you get at the Vet is quite incredible. The Vet examined the cat and then said, I need to talk to the orthopaedic surgeon and in walks this other young lady, who concurs with the £3k price tag and diagnosis.

Yes, it's about ten times as good a service as the NHS, but at an infinitely inflated price tag, it's unethical for humans. And, in the words of Sara Cox, Wrong Diddly Wrong Wrong.

MORGANISATION AT LAST!

Yes, we are now betrothed and the wedding was amazing! Not just the happiest day of my life, but Phils too - and he said so in his speech. I want to record everything that happened before we forget all the wonderful things that werenèt scripted. Like Venus, the Goddess of Love appearing at the end of the day, appearing to eclipse the moon; we went outside at about nine o'clock and there was the brightest star I've ever seen, right next to the Moon. An old farmer neighbour of Mum's was even out there staring and one of Mum's friends said she'd never seen it before.
We're on honeymoon now - Phil is in the hotel room synchcronizing the cycle map the company have given us with his palm computer. We want to do a food diary - had marvellous food again - but before we do that I'm going to list all my favourite bits of Saturday, 19th May 2007.
- getting ready with Nellie and Aoife and Sarah, the pink champagne and pink sapphire necklace wedding presents from Mr Morgan
- walking into the chapel and seeing all the familiar smiling faces of our friends and family - like Jules, Sam, Shirley and Derrick, Judith and Angela, Julia, Cathryn winked at me
- laughing with Mum and Jenny in the morning
- Elspeth's arch and the lovely flowers from Erica, the horsechesnut and hawthorn in flower
- Len doing the funny stories on video
_ everyone saying how gorgeous the dress was _ and me saying that Jo made it
- my little bridesmaids Poppy and Nina
- the ceremony
- looking into Phil's eyes as we say the vows
- feeling his hands on mine,
- Phil stroking and pummelling my hands as he's trying to talk to me with his hands, probably trying to tell me to keep still and stop looking round!
- Text from James
- John and Anni at the Chapel and their hugs
- the sunshine
- Joe and Aoife singing surprise 'Your love is going to last'
- Dad's speech
- Phil's speech
- Joe leaving easy care label on shirt
- Joel's speech - when Pete wheeled out their Nan's trolley
- Bridget and Helen getting on so well
- Aoife doing face painting
- the first barn dance _ Joe dancing funny
- Jo and Graham dancing together
- Mum dancing with cousin in law David looking happy
- having a Hartington beer with Phil
- Erica crying with happiness
- Anthony, Joe and Pete breakdancing to Salt N Pepa 'Whatta Man'
- Joe and Phil doing sound effects LONG NOOOOR for bus annoucements
- Nellie and Richard dancing to 9-5
- singing on the bus
- Horsechesnut flowering outside Elspeth's barn

Morganisation

How to organise a wedding on Tamoxifen

1) Go for some acupuncture to negate the side effects of Tamoxifen
2) Delegate everything
3) Relax

It's getting to crunch time now - exactly who is coming to the wedding and that's the interesting bit. Some people who are only invited to the evening do are coming up for two nights, and some people are dropping out of the whole thing. And fascinatingly was my algebraic code cracking system any guide to this behaviour? The answer to this question is probably no, not at all. Fans of this blog will know that a couple of months ago I devised a genius plot to decide who to invite to the wedding. Potential guests were given a 3-4 digit code. A number to start with, based on the number of times I have seen them in the past 2 years, a letter from A to D for intensity of relationship ie A for very intense once I do see them, down to D for not very intense at all, in fact do they like me? And a Y or N if Phil has met them. So for example some people would get a score of 0DN - ie I hadn't seen them at all in the past 2 years which isn't a very good start, it's not very intense when I do see them, and Phil also hasn't met them. So really I was all set to cross them off the list. Then I invited everyone I wanted to, so the code was ditched. Anyway, what's happened is that some of the ODNs are quite keen and booked themselves two nights up there, a 1AY has dropped out totally, a what-I thought was a 0BN but is probably more like a 0XN now I think about it is not coming, a 2AN has dropped out and a 75AY is threatening not to come, those latter two claiming they can't afford it.

I think age should have been factored in a bit - the over 50s are the keenest, there's no getting away from it. Phil's quite disappointed that one of his 4AYs has dropped out and a 3AY of his has got a wedding on the same day. So today I'm sorting the wheat from the chaff (mainly AYs from the DNs) and some lucky people may get 'upgrades' and get an invite to the whole thing. That's if they want to as of course some people are so offended that they didn't get an invite to the day do in the first place they won't come at all now.

Gwen Stefani here I come

Apparently with my hair appropriately styled i now look like Gwen Stefani. Isn't she married to someone quite interesting? Anyway to cut a long story short I haven't got enough time to laze around blogging all day. Too busy taking unused IPODS back to shops and collecting packages that people haven't put enough stamps on. And I thought I'd be hand making all my favours like all the BEST BRIDES do. But I am a BAD BRIDE. Everyone thinks the hand carved pebbles is too big a job and would end up looking hopelessly amateurish, especially with someone with as much artistic talent as Spud from Trainspotting.

We watched that the other day, hungover, and we all felt quite pleased that we had mere hangovers, not uncontrollable addictions. Smug in fact.

I want to know the difference between smugness and happiness. Perception that's all. Anyway. I'm off to the Post Office.

£250 free make-up - if you've had breast cancer

One of the brilliant things that they don't really shout about at Fulham's Breast Cancer Haven is the sessions where they give away £250 worth of free make up. You get a two hour session where you plaster it all on as well and we all look like a million dollars when we leave, even if we feel like tuppence hapenny. The session is actually called 'Look Good Feel Great'. I went yesterday, perfect timing for the wedding of course, although it felt like responsibility piling up on me rather than layers of free radicals, as of course you've got to put the time in to learn how to do the stuff. We were there for two hours - there are 12 steps apparently to make up. I looked a bit like Marilyn Monroe when I left - although Phil on his better days says I look like Boris Johnson. That's a step up from Andy Warhol. My hair has gone white blond you see. Another day, another hair style.

Today I'm planning to go to B&Q & 'hobbycraft'. One of my better ideas is to get some large pebbles and inscribe people's names on them for the favours - so they can use them as paperweights. We'll see how far I get with that bright idea.

We've booked the honeymoon - Hurrah - can't wait although it's a lot like hard work cycling 40 miles a day. Cycling in the Loire Valley. Phil has created a new, married blog for us. I want to call it 'Morganisation'.

Bottling Happiness; Positive Stress

When you're depressed, they say to you 'you've got to think rationally'. But they don't say anything when you're happy. Thank God. I don't think there could be anything more irritating than when you're at your happiest people try and give you advice.

Yesterday I tried on the dress, underwear, veil, shoes and hair pieces all together for the first time and if I do say so myself it looked great. And the thing is, when little things go wrong when you're happy - like driving through a red light, cutting up a cyclist, paying £3.50 to park, not being able to park, you're not bothered. Even Adam Brimmeloe on the Today programme not mentioning the doctors' lobby of parliament didn't faze me. I carried on in my new happy busy state. Nuptial therapy. I might patent it, although St Paul and his incriminating letter to the Corinthians might sue me.

And we've still got so much to do - fake tan, lighter hair, eyebrows plucked, evening invites, speeches, favours, transport, water the plants, pay for the booze, get the shoes, nails, pamper session, look at the michelin guide, book the honeymoon, talk to the relatives. It's all go.

Everything is great!

Everything is great at the moment. Have a lovely new job with new people who are all wonderful. I have my wedding CD on at the moment - I managed to actually use the CD player. And I'm charging up my new IpoD to put all the wedding disco songs on. And the sun is shining and only a month to go to the wedding!

It's all consuming now - every second we're doing wedding related activities and I wish I could bottle the feelings I feel now to sample in years to come when I may have a blue day. If only life were so simple. I just can't wait to smile and laugh all day - but every second will be recorded to re-live at will. We've almost got all the outfits, everything is booked, and nothing is denting my amazing good mood.

Upside Down, Boy - you turn me, inside out and round and round! I'm crazy to think you're all mine. As long as the sun continues to shine there's a place for you in my heart - that's the bottom line.

Hackney Holiday - Acupuncture and manicure

Had a great day which kicked off with some wedding debates - how many chairs to get for example. I then had a lovely long session of meditation where Marmite and Trottems joined me, gazing at the rose buds in the garden. In one of my many magazines it said that the new way of getting rid of greenfly is just smudging them off with your finger - apparently they don't come back, it's 'organic' and quick. Slightly messy though, and not convinced of its effectiveness. Those are the sorts of thoughts which come into your head when meditating and you have to quickly get back to thinking of nothing. Then I tootled off to my acupuncture session which was very refreshing and therapeutic. I immediately felt great. Holiday at home - not much can beat it, especially when you've got a little bit more money to spend than nothing.

My body now virtually tip top, I'm also getting more concerned with beauty issues - my nails were next on the list. And in true holiday style I had a manicure - from a lovely pregnant Indian girl. She was thrilled as the baby is the first grandchild, grand SON in fact, for her in-laws where she has moved to from Delhi. A wonderful hand massage together with beautiful nails.

Then I got home to work on bringing down the numbers for the wedding - which isn't a very nice job. I want everyone on my list to come, but realistically they can't. I've created a brilliantly logical system. Everyone is given a number to start with - number of times I've seen them in the past two years. Then an 'intensity' letter - ABC or D for the 'intensity' of the relationship A = intense. Then a Y/N if Phil has met them or not. So some people have got OBN like Order of the Brown Nose in Private Eye. Evening Do. And the great thing about that is that it's virtually unlimited.

Blogging my way through cancer

Early on in my diagnosis, Mum gave me a book called 'Writing my way through cancer' which I immediately chucked in the garden, and it is now almost ruined. I was annoyed as the woman was such a moaning minnie. In such circumstances one undoubtedly compares onself with AN other and this woman was a published writer, which got my green tentacles up to start with, she was about double my age, and the cancer was less dramatic. I didn't find reading about her whinging very helpful, especially then. Now I too can see the benefits of documenting one's experiences - in my case blogging. With blogging, as one's parents and friends, not to mention the Stazi, thought police, MI6 and the FBI are reading then you invariably have to make the thing upbeat and keep moaning, especially about anyone with two pence worth of power, to a minimum.

I do think it's a bit of a myth that creativity thrives on misery - surely good writing and art comes with practise and experience? So I'm going to try, against the best wishes of the Royal College of Censors, to carry on with my blog, even if it gets slightly dull with my limited propensity to moan.

And what else have I learnt or changed with the a) cancer/b) blogging/c) engagement (they all seem to merge into one and it's difficult to separate them)? Well from cancer - a) stay upbeat. Blogging - remember who pays the bills. You may think it's you, but actually it's the british tax payer and 99.9% of the time you don't agree with them so b) keep your opinions to yourself. Engagement - Enjoy and keep your eye on the budget (see b).

Two Amazing Things - Sunshine and Hairdressers

There's not much more amazing than these two things - sunshine and haircare. Sunshine especially when you're on holiday gives you this wonderful escapist, freedom feel. You've won the battle, the streets are deserted, everyone else is at work, apart from the Turkish hairdressers where there's two weddings. Especially carefree in a thoroughly Turkish hairdressers. There's continental drum and bass blaring out, the sun's bouncing off the floor and mirrors, a lovely breeze blowing all the ciagrette smoke away, foreign language whirring over your head, close your eyes and the sound of water splashing over your locks could be the costa del stokey. You're reading a book about frogs, get a haircut better than vidal sassoon for a quarter of the price and come out looking a little bit more like Kylie, especially now you're 55 kilos! Hurrah. Panic over about the weight loss. On top of that all the treatment has finished, bar Tamoxifen, which I haven't quite made my mind up about. And the sun is still shining. On my blonde hair...

Ten Amazing Things (Tat)

1) I am carrying on with my blog
2) Ten Amazing Things spells Tat
3) My blog is listed on Three Beautiful Things, so to show my gratitude I'll do the same, again
4) Blaglady says she bets 3bt isn't being investigated. Ha. But she has 'He who shall not be named'. I didn't bother with that.
5) Only people like Nelson Mandela and Mark Steel, not to mention most of the cabinet like Madelson and Jack Straw get 'investigated'.
6) Hits have gone up again
7) Profile views are at 500 nearly
8) I will not mention work again on this blog. Promise.
9) Are numbers 4-8 really amazing things? Surely I'm scraping the barrel. Funny can be amazing. Well, sometimes.
10) Watched most of Northanger Abbey and spoke on phone to Blaglady.

Not knowing what day it is

One of the things about being off work for such a long time is you don't know the day or the date at any point. The days merge into a sort of grey durge. And I haven't been on TOP FORM the past two weeks. The Radiotherapy has done its work - and finished - but left me feeling exhausted, a very sore left breast which is inflammed and that's apparently what's making me feel sick. But I start work next Wednesday, with an interview too and so has Phil.

I'm reading Possession by AS Byatt at the moment, which is a great read prior to me starting an MA in October as it's all about academia. I am hoping that all this reading is improving my writing - Mum always said that's the best way. I haven't found 'Possession' as good as 'Kitchen Confidential' in this respect. Perhaps I feel overawed by the quality of the former, overawed to the extent of total inactivity.

I think Mum gave me Possession for my sixteenth birthday - so it's taken me seventeen years to read it! And this sort of random fact makes you think about other objects and influences in one's life. What's the oldest object I've been given? Why've I kept it for so long? And what about 'services' you've benefitted from years ago. School teaching. But also learning to ride a bike, swim, read and talk. Skills that most people take for granted are passed down from parents. The wonders of science, rarely lost from the first generation that learns 'the truth'. AS Byatt's character 'Ellen' is given laudanam for a headache. These days everyone's got a stash of paracetamol or ibruprofen. And they're not addictive.

But - we may have to move. To the 'West Midlands'. Where Phil's got his interview. A big area. Phil's already saying Ludlow. I was impressed as it was mentioned yet again in 'Country Life' as the best place to live in the country. Not just for foodies. It has a good Council. Very tempting. For someone like me who values local government.

And I think we've decided to go ahead with the marquee on the school field. Yes, it'll be hassle but as Phil pointed out yesterday I've got four weeks of holiday to take before April as I've been off sick for so long. The gorgeous dress is finished. As soon as I'm better I can start getting excited about that again.

Philosophising whilst cycling

I'm cycling to my radiotherapy appointments every day which is an hour of exercise so the diet has been binned. And cycling is wonderful, the flats you pass with tiny balconies, the houses with still-to- flower climbing trees, the cafes with scents of coffee and curry, the long nineteenth century tree-lined roads with families on their way to school, the beautiful parks thronging with bird song,(which I can't identify and wish I could) even in the rain . Then at the bottom of Pitfield Street you arrive in the city, at a junction I'm so happy to say adapted for cyclists with a crossing for us and the pedestrians. Then we all cycle the same route (they always overtake me) and the buildings get taller, the pedestrians more numerous, and the streets darker. Finally I arrive on Moorgate and waiting at the traffic lights to turn on to the Roman London Wall and the sound of footsteps is hypnotic. E taught me to say 'Ohm' in my head whilst meditating and it's so lovely to do it just there, where right in the thick of the action all you can hear are thousands of feet softly tapping quickly to their different destinations. And I'm overtaken again as I wonder how many millions of journeys have occured on that straight road and how it might have looked two thousand years ago.

Mum's best friend J's philosophy was 'to enjoy life as much as possible without harming anyone else'. I love thinking about thinking, nowhere more than on my bike where if I think a dodgy not-nice thought I can quickly think about avoiding hitting the pavement or how wet my bum/hands/legs are. I think about Dave Gorman and his quest to find other Dave Gormans. And my quest to find other A. Tattons. We found one last night - perhaps the only other in the country - on 'my tube'. She recorded a twenty second song 'Santa Baby'; coincidentally on my birthday. She's probably twenty years younger than me. Are they any thirty three year old, breast cancer inflicted, ex-Kylie-Minogue lookalike, NHS manager, expert patient trained, engaged, left-wing, feminist, cat loving, arctic-monkey-loving, food loving, aspiring writer/historians out there with the name Tatton? I think about feminism and its economic basis - equality of pay but not culturally.

Then I arrive at the hospital and you're in and out in 2 minutes, while they play 'Coldplay' on their ghetto blaster and you're zapped. Inappropriate I think, as not only is it too gloomy but 90% of the clientele are over 50. I ponder the merits of not only the 'gowns' they give you, but why they can't give you a bag to put all your stuff in each day as you trail round from waiting room, to changing room to the space age treatment room.

And the journey home. Empty streets on the way back as everyone's at their desks. Jeeves and Wooster take me back to the twentieth century and I wonder how people become butlers.
We had a lovely meal last night - at the Three Crowns on the High Street. High Standards and not too high a price - Phil got the champers and the roses. I bought the meal. We both ate, listened, talked and laughed. That's twenty-first century feminism for you.

Spoke too soon - feeling rough

Quicker than you can say 'Feminism is dead - look at the popularity of Life on Mars' I feel ill again. An overwhelming tiredness, which even for me, is unusual in that it's stopping me watch 'Diagnosis Murder'. Also haven't done the jobs I wanted to do like book my hairdressing appointment (Phil now says I look like David Milliband and that, believe me, is below the belt). I haven't done things like put the tins away from the shopping. But the Tattonmeister came round yesterday for a short trip - he has now played on a grammy award nominated song so that's very good. He kept making me laugh - like when we tried to visit the Church Street squat and they wouldn't let us in because they were 'shut'. He said he was going to complain. Tiredness is one of the side effects from radiotherapy so I don't know why I'm so shocked. I was just hoping I might feel like doing slightly more interesting things than lying around dozing.

Happy again

It takes a hell of a lot to get rid of my brilliant mood from the 19th May last year (a certain proposal) so I'm as happy now just about as I was then, having recovered from chemo, psychotic episode, cancer, work etc. I've just submitted the application to do the MA I want to do in October and really looking forward to that. We've scaled down the wedding considerably - Mum has found a marquee for hire for £400 - ten times cheaper than the other one we had booked. We're going to get married late afternoon so we can get away with giving everyone one meal - which is going to be a buffet. And I've cancelled the creche - nobody seemed to be into that idea. I've read two books in the past week which I enjoyed very much - going through chemo I couldn't even concentrate long enough to watch telly or listen to the radio - had to do jigsaws. I've read 'Small Island' which was a look at post-war racism, but I didn't like it that much, couldn't empathise with the characters. Then I read 'the Time Traveller's wife' which I really loved - always had a fascination with time travel; examining questions of philosophy, free will and history.

My hair is long enough to have a parting now - although Phil's calling me Hitler, I think I look like Maria Von Trapp.

Change of plans

Had a terrible week of illness - just a nasty virus which combined with radiotherapy has left me unable to get out of bed most of the week. Just recovering now. This has put the wedding plans on the back burner, in fact on a slow, conservative, back-burner. In fact on a bunsen burner. Yes, the wedding plans are on the brink of being totally changed. Being genuinely sick all week has made me feel like the mutated son of Gordon Brown and Ebeneezer Scrooge on a Monday morning. The half pay is starting to bite, combined with daytime TV which seems to be constantly about 'Cash in the Attic', places in the sun, spendaholics, adverts for loan sharks and debt agencies. Inflation's rising, unemployment's rising & both me and Phil might be out of a job, interest rates are on the increase and polar bears are dying. It's starting to seem ludicrous to spend not hundreds, but thousands of pounds on one day when we haven't got that money. Yes we have 'equity' but it isn't cash. But then, our revised wedding list (of ten guests each) includes no aunties, cousins and hardly any friends. And what would I spend what in real terms will be £50K on? You can't get much for that these days apparently, apart from a decent wedding.

A wonderful day

Yesterday was Phil's presentation of his membership of the Royal College of Surgeons and it was brilliant. I was quite looking forward to the day - but we'd thought we only had three tickets to the ceremony - so I was opting out and just coming to the dinner. Then at the last minute the Royal College said there were spare tickets so I was able to come to the ceremony. It snowed yesterday so that made it memorable in the first place and les parentios came down the night before so we had a leisurely start with some bacon butties that really threw the diet out of the window to start with. We got a cab to treat ourselves and because it's quite reasonable split between four so we arrived in good time. And when we saw the flag with the coat of arms flying above the large building that set the day off to a great start. It's a huge building well designed for all the hob knobbing - plenty of reception rooms and halls to feel very grand in. The first hall where Phil had to register had a marble floor and a few statues, one of which had a bit of a tale to it. The lady who donated the marble floor and the statue (of herself and her late husband who was a surgeon) had fallen in love with the sculptor and wanted his ashes also deposited in the statue along with hers and her late husband's. But it didn't happen in the end as their love affair ended. There was a huge statue of John Hunter - one of the first proper surgeons where people were having some photos taken - and we didn't know who he was. To remedy our lack of knowledge we went to the museum, in the building, which was excellent. I think that was why I enjoyed the day so much - because Phil's and the other surgeons' awards were put so well in their historical context. And what an amazing historical context to be part of! With my campaigning on this and that - to try and get ongoing funding for the NHS, to help older peoples' services and promote equality - I can lose sight so easily of all the progress that's made by humanity for humanity over what are very short time scales. The museum and the Royal College of Surgeons pointed this out so well. It was quite humbling and awe inspiring to think of all the progress made by each one of the 200 or so surgeons in the huge Edward Lumley hall where they each waited for their handshake from Bernard Ribeiro, the President. That all the knowledge of past medical interventions is so quickly passed down from these highly qualified doctors to their less experienced colleagues. And as we were sitting there, waiting for the ceremony to begin I felt SO happy and proud, not just because of Phil's achievements but for all of us, as the surgeons had come from all over the world - Africa, Asia, New Zealand - and each of them probably saving more lives than John Hunter could dream of. Tears of gratitude and joy welled in my eyes. The anatomical knowledge which Hunter clearly studied in great depth is now simply taken for granted almost, we knew we didn't need to ask Phil what was what - he knows it - it's a given. And the machines from as late as 1957 just looked so old and out of date - yet this is only a generation ago!
I wasn't expecting the art to be as inspirational either - in the museum they had a painting of the original 'Siamese Twins' and in the Hall a Hans Holbein of Henry VIII handing over a charter to the original association of Barber-Surgeons. Awesome. I probably won't have such an enjoyable day until the wedding!

The anti-climax of finishing a good book

I was trying to make it last as long as possible, but I've just finished a brilliant book and now I feel deflated. I suppose I can always read it again, a bit like looking at your wedding album over and over again. I like looking at other peoples'. I suspect I won't even like looking at my own that much - but who knows? I just can't wait.

Rediscovering coffee, politics, John Wesley Harding and Claire Rayner

The new diet has meant that I've been recently giving up tea and coffee which has seemed unduly harsh. Well I'm having a lovely day with a delicious black coffee with organic sugar (it's a compromise), listening to John Wesley Harding reading Claire Rayner's autobiography. Phil is on a 24 hour shift. I'm thoroughly enjoying all of the four activities. Why Claire Rayner isn't Dame Claire Rayner is beyond me. She had a terrible childhood, and then through a lot of hard work and pure determination has had an incredibly successful life, helping others along the way.

The wedding planning is going very well. We've ordered the wedding rings, copying the in-laws every step of the way, hoping if we do so some of their happy married life might rub off on us! We're having engraved 'Anna & Phil forever' on the inside of each of the rings.

Radiotherapy starts on a week on Tuesday, the 30th. I'm hoping to cycle there each time which will see me exceed the government target of 1.5 hours of exercise each week. It'll be that daily.

My friend Robert also got engaged recently and we're going to his engagement party on Friday, and his fiancee D is a personal trainer who gave me a free session on Tuesday. There's some cellulite busting exercises which quite frankly I don't believe. It's too difficult. The fact is I can't motivate myself with exercise - it's boring. Unless I'm cycling. It's the quickest way to get from A to B in London.

Celebrity Big Brother has entered the world of parody. I know I was complaining that they edit everything out on the live programme. Well they've been showing racist bullying on the edited show. Thankfully the general public, politicians and the media have picked up on this and for once since Princess Diana's death I've been watching the news avidly. It's great to see racists get their just desserts and I hope Danielle and Jo also get evicted now. It's one of my favourite debates - Free Speech. How far does it go? Should we let anyone say whatever they like? Fascinating.

I've been watching the news more, and in fact getting involved - I voted on the Politics Show Prime Ministers Questions event. I feel better for it. Viewers had to vote with their phones (free) - you had to press 5 when you thought something someone was saying was good and 0 when it was rubbish. I pressed 5 when Keith Vaz MP asked Tony Blair about racism. And I pressed 0 when David Cameron asked Tony Blair about a stupid Home Office letter. They should do it for Question Time too which I also enjoyed. People seem to think that sexism is the acceptable face of racism. IE if we bully the bullies back then that's ok. Edwina Curry called the bullies 'b*tches' and 'sl*gs'. Dimbleby the Chair didn't pick her up on it - it was left to someone else on the panel. Why is that acceptable?

Slimmer and more sane in 2007

The great news is my GP has agreed that I can come off Olanzepine as I've now returned to 'normal' after having a 'normal' nasty wobbly in reaction to chemo before Christmas. As you can see from the wikipedia entry very recently there's been some publicity about its links to weight gain, so I'm delighted. However not delighted enough to ditch the sanity the drug brings.

The other good news is that my two tutors from Univeristy twelve years ago have agreed to be referees for my MA which I want to start in October, brilliant.

Darts, Poirot & Celebrity Big Brother

Yep, the weekend was a TV one and it was great. We watched Harry Potter and Phil guided me through the plot. Then yesterday we watched Poirot and I guided Phil through the plot. It's always the person you're least supposed to think it is with Agatha Christie. Phil said it was the Page Boy, which it never is, it's always someone with grandeur and an accomplice. So it was the banker and his secretary.

The Darts was phenomenol, apparently the best final since Jocky Wilson and Eric Bristow in 1989. Anyway, the underdog, 'Nixy' who everyone was rooting for, he'd been made redundant recently and had been able to practise his darts more. He was losing 6-0 at the interval, and managed to come back to 6-all but lost in the end. But it was very exciting. With all the marketing they're making the most of the 'Wives' (there don't seem to be any gay or single darts players). One was very glamorous and the other one wasn't, which again made one firm up one's allegiances. I couldn't decide with the wives. My new found obsession with make up (as I've got a shaved head of course) means I can now empathise with all these heavily made up women, in fact I'm now imitating them. I've finally found a foundation which doesn't make me look like I've got jaundice - it's the fairest one.

There's nothing very amusing to report on Celebrity Big Brother apart from that all the women on it seem to wear foundation I've noticed. I'm pleased I'm allowed to watch it - Phil banned me before with the normal one, but I love it. I like the human interactions they have. What is terrible though is the amount of editing when you watch it live. You're just watching and listening to an interesting conversation, but because the Channel Four lawyers are editing like hawks, so that any snippet of information about anyone else is cut.

The appointment with the Radiologist went fine - it's starting in a couple of weeks hopefully, - will find out on Friday. The main side effect from that is tiredness, which I'm counteracting with all my cycling.

The diet is going well. Like proper scientists, Phil and I have been monitoring our weights on a graph. His original graph was quite frankly a bit rubbish - you couldn't see what was going on as the scale was too small. His was our entire weight in kilograms on the y axis, with about six months on the x axis. In other words it's a straight line for both of us. I did another one with 60-58 kg on one page for myself and I've already gone off the page (in the right direction).
Good.

Tattontastic the musical

We went out last night as the Tattonmeister had a gig at Cargo. It was brilliant - and we went for a Chinese first - primarily so that Phil could get the really big straws for one of his inventions.

So we've had a v relaxing day today. Phil did his tax return while I went and got some fruit and veg. The fruit bowl is stacked very high. Now I'm on this diet, I find I'm snacking more - on things like dried apricots and grapes. Then we watched Singing in the Rain. And it made me think I would want my life displayed in musical form. Did you know that Andre Previn worked with the producer of Singing in the Rain? Well I didn't. Anyway, what I'd do for one of the scenes is have a jazzed up 'Champagne Supernova' with the character playing me tap dancing up an escalator coming into Charing Cross station for when I first moved to London.

The joys of Incapacity Benefit

Today was one of those days that you just write off. The weather was awful so I just did the ironing and I had the pleasure of applying for Incapacity Benefit. I'm entitled to it as 'Statutory Sick Pay' runs out after six months. Work automatically sent me the form. But there are no forms any more. You have to do it all by phone apparently. It was 'Computer says no' meets Myfanwy; a welsh girl who must have been about 19 asking ridiculous questions. Like had I been to prisoner of war camps in the far east. It was quite good - I was saying 'No' so much that I started saying it in silly accents to make the experience more enjoyable. 'nieu. nooo. nuuo.' I've certainly got no faith in the system.

The diet is still going quite well. Doing without tea and sugar is the worst bit. But I made two delicious soups today - Watercress for dinner and Lettuce for lunch. If I don't start losing weight soon I really will lose faith.

Wedding Planning in the Twenty First Century for the over thirties

Is probably better than wedding planning for the under twenties in the nineteenth century. In fact make that definitely.

I'm still enjoying all the planning. And that's the thing, you know you're going to have a great day, make that two weeks, probably the best of your life so far, and so minor changes aren't going to make that much difference.

The diet is going well - more FAT
1) Carol Vorderman has got some good detox recipes including root vegetable soup which we had today
2) So has Gillian McKeith
3) And Super Juice man
4) We've bought a new juicer and it's great
5) I love our Xmas cards

New Years Resolutions

1) Stay Positive
2) Enjoy Life
3) Be active - 30 minutes of cycling per day
4) Enjoy good relationships
5) Keep up healthy lifestyle - meditation, aromatherapy, Alexander Technique, visualisation
6) Enjoy good communication
7) Listen well
8) HAve a good laugh every day
9) Show appreciation
10) Eat 5 fruit and veg per day

Bird theme for wedding

I am having hand made shoes for my wedding which I'm totally thrilled about. The shoemaker (Emmy) has been inspired by me I'm delighted to say and made an applique bird which she has just given me, the day before my birthday and it made my week!

I'm so delighted - my Auntie Enid is a big bird lover which has influenced me.

The History of the Nation State: My great friend Paolo

Yesterday we had a mini New Year celebration; Phil is working for 24 hours now so he'll miss seeing the New Year in. So we had an allegedly good friend of mine in (Paolo) with some spag bol. 'Celebration' might be a bit of a euphemism, 'Argument' is a better description probably. Paolo would be a great person to inspire a novel, as he is so novel. Boring yet interesting , Loyal yet spontaneous, Doglike yet catlike too. Talented yet destitute.

At home (here) I've got a 'Rainy Day Album' - it's a brilliant idea from the Bristol Cancer Haven place - They suggested a Rainy Day Box, but mine has expanded into a Rainy Day House. Anyway, in this album are photos of my friends and family to cheer me up. Paolo has a whole page to himself in this prestigious piece of work, and I've written on a piece of yellow card on his page 'Always talking - could talk for Italy, yet he always makes me laugh, my great friend Paolo'. And herein lies the issue - Phil could also talk for England. I, on this ocassion was Switzerland. The debate naturally turned to the nation state. They were both shouting at each other to shut up at the same time, when I offered my two penorth. Paolo was saying that the Italians are Arabs, Phil was saying that actually the Meditterareon peoples had inflenced the North Africans. I said that both these debates had a hint of racism about them and the important thing was the human race. They both counteracted that saying that there's evidence that humans can mate with baboons. Especially me. Ha ha ha. I think Phil was trying to get rid of PAolo as he put the entire Godfather collection on our new TV - but this of course inspired yet more yapping and wine consumption. From both of us (myself and Paolo). One of my main hobbies is talking through films - especially ones I don't like (see Pirates of the Caribbean, Braveheart etc etc ad infinituum below).

Tax the Rich

I'm thinking of starting a new blog called 'Tax the Rich'. What do people think?

I think the reason I'm thinking of doing it today because I'm so annoyed at being incommunicado and being charged for it!

The phone has cut off again, can't get any reception on Orange. It's like 1864 in this flat. At least I can get myself published without relying on a rich benefactor like Marx, who had to resort to borrowing money off Engels all the time.

First Class Holiday

We watched 'Pirates of the Caribbean' last night and I asked 'what's the point in killing people who are already dead?' and then it turned out that my TV bible (Time Out) also asked the same question - but they'd also put the said film as Film of the Day.

ANYWAY, today I've been on the internet and all my Amazon work seems to have been destroyed. I've tried on my wedding dress which is so exciting (the toile it's called, the dress which THE dress will be based on). I've looked at some old rubbish on ebay and decided that I too am going to become an EBAY success - selling some skis, ski boots and a second hand sheep skin jacket.

I'm feeling tons better and the chemo has worn off, Thank the Lord. And we went to midnight Mass on Christmas Eve. And I got a blessing from the priest. So all in all a really lovely, incredibly relaxing Christmas and we've still got the first class trip down to London to enjoy.

FAT at Christmas

1) Five Amazing Things is still going - although some people still don't understand acronyms (FAT stands for Five Amazing Things dumbos, not that I actually am Fat, although technically this could also be true)
2) Had the most relaxing day ever - am on chapter 4 of 'The Kalahari Men's School of Typing' by Alexander Mccall Smith - the forth one in his No 1 Ladies Dectective Agency series and I love it
3) Gorgeous Christmas presents - original Art Deco atomiser and perfume from Phil
4) He says he's thrilled with the 'Time Share in a Camper Van' which was the big present I got him
5) Also got a fabulous planter from his parents - with all the bulbs planted exactly as it was on Gardeners' World

Five Amazing Things

1) We had an amazing birthday meal at Chez Kristof. Marvellous.
2) It's Christmas time in Shropshire and already singing 'Darling Darling Give me your answer do'
3) Gorgeous diamond earrings for my birthday to go with my engagement ring
4) Beautiful presents for everyone for christmas - can't wait
5) Deferring all decisions until after Christmas - love it

Happy Birthday Self

There's a brilliant meditation script in one of my magazines. You imagine yourself, happy and relaxed walking on a beach with the sand and pebbles gently touching your feet. Then you see in the distance a person you really love. You're so happy to see them that gradually you feel yourself getting happier and happier, but still calm as you're having a great time on this lovely beach with the gentle wind and warm air. The person is so close now and now you're embracing them, so happy to have caught up with them again. Then you give them a hug and look at them in the eyes - and realise it's yourself. Your best friend, the person you love the most - It's you!

I'm a big one for blowing my own trumpet and I'm great. I'm one of the most loyal, caring, compassionate and generous people I know. I'm also sexy, passionate, with a great sense of humour and attractive with many creative talents and a brain which is capable of studying and teaching others so many things. Even if I do say so myself, I'm excellent with figures/money/maths, yet also brilliant at writing, public speaking, analysis, negotiation and debate. I'm very determined and focussed, yet with a soft heart always sharing my successes. I got the best GCSE results in Staffordshire, I got the best degree and a prize - the only one in my University. I raised over a million pounds in a year for the underpriveleged in one of my jobs and I've got a wonderful fiance.

I'm making sure I'm going to have many happy returns!

Jesus Christ

Jesus was 33 when he died, which is how old I'll be tomorrow. The terrible horrors I've experienced over the past 24 days means I'm now decided not to continue with chemo. There is such a thing as quality of life and I'd rather die of cancer than commit suicide. The choice is probably not so stark but even so I have a choice and I am lucky to have a choice and I would rather be myself, calm and collected than the monster I've witnessed recently.

To chemo or not to chemo

Today has been a 'No' day. Because I've enjojyed the day and the night almost as much as I did four weeks ago. My short term memory has felt like it's returning to normal.

Anway Five Amazing Things:

1) My bird of paradise - the applique bird that my shoemaker has made me
2) Diamond ring
3) Friends
4) Family
5) Food and champagne again

50 Ways to Deal with Anxiety

1) Write Lists
2) Good amount of sleep
3) Homeopathy
4) Bachs Flower REmedy
5) Chamomile Tea
6) Art Therapy
7) Writing Blog
8) Walking
9) Art
10) Support from Family
11) **Phil!**
12) Cats
13) Clinical Psychologist
14) Community Mental Health Team
15) Medicinal Answer
16) Sewing
17) Friends
18) Alexander Technique
19) Cleaning
20) Assistance withCleaning
21) Tidy Up
22) Make Up
23) Lavender Bath
24) Aromatherapy
25) Meditation
26) Yoga
27) Cycling
28) Acupuncture
29) Acupressure
30) Cooking
31) Eating
32) Wedding PLanning
33) Distraction
34) Routine
35) RElaxation
36) Writing children's stories
37) Calligraphy
38) Planning Event
39) Hypnosis
40) Look at Diamond
41) Expressing Gratitude, in fact most positive emotions
42) Positive Thinking
43) Go on the internet
45) Soak up nature
46) Look at a plant or flower
47) Gaze at the Sky
48) Say Calm on your out breath ten times
49) Massage
50) Reflexology

Twenty Amazing Things (continued) [TAT]

1) You can quite clearly see why nobody's bothered doing Twenty Amazing things, because you essentially run out of time or someone interrupts you.
2) That's why it's best to stick to 3
3) or Five in my case
4) Might go to Planet Organic in a minute
5) Might have an early night
6) Our Xmas cards are coming through anytime
7) I've updated my address book
8) It's also got birthdays in it
9) Feeling very calm and peaceful after my acupressure
10) Might become an acupressurist
11) It's better than being an oncologist
12) Does ANYONE like their oncologist?
13) Was that really an amazing question or thing?
14) The cats have been extra nice today
15) Must be the wind
16) I'm really scraping the barrel now
17) This is a bit like doing HAiku
18) That reminds me of another amazing thing - Blaglday
19) And PW - he sent me about ten amazing poems today
20) Me and the acupuncturist had a good old fashioned laugh today

Twenty Amazing Things

1) My nickname used to be TAT (surprise surprise)
2) The tattonmeister rang
3) I might run out of time doing this
4) I am waiting for my acupuncture appointment
5) At the Fulham Haven
6) Sparkling crystal diamond
7) He's called me already
8) Must go)

Five Amazing Things

1) Chapel St market is very cheap indeed
2) can't think of number two
3) The cats are lovely
4) One carat single solitaire diamond ring with platinum band on my fourth finger which I used to play the piano with
5) The Tattonmeister's thumb is better
6) My short term memory is going, but my long term one is still going strong. Hurrah for Women into Science and Engineering

The future's Zen

Five Amazing Things (More FAT)

1) We have broadband and the future is Zen not Orange
2) My fiancee is amazing and has won a major prize (in addition to me being his wife in less than six months)
3) RP has rung
4) I helped cheer up Auntie Enid today by telling her I might get christened (although not Cof E which she wasn't over the moon about)
5) 1 carat diamond solitaire on a platinum band, picked by HIM

Dancing Chemo Queen

Five Amazing Things

1) Blaglady is texting me all her news and social whirl
2) My Dad's GP says talking about, getting excited about and generally happy about the wedding is perfectly normal and fine
3) Feng Shui, acupuncture, marital and nuptial therapy, acupressure, massage, hugging, smiling, aromathrerapy, crystal therapy (which I call diamond therapy), Yoga, homepathy, Alexander Technique, self-hypnosis & Pilates all work to make me feel better
4) Dr S has postponed the next chemo session until 2nd January and made me a special clinic
5) Phil is amazing and Phil means love in greek and/or latin (Blaglady can you help me out with that one?)

It's glam up North

When people say 'I'd rather have cancer than go up North' they are quite literally joking. Up here there's make up, foundation I think they call it. It makes you look beautiful even though you've got a fat moon face and look like Kylie Minogue on steroids. To the extent where I actually think I'm Kylie Minogue on steroids and they have to quite literally lock me up. But that's another story for another day.

Today, I look amazing, like the dark haired woman off Blakes Seven, if there's anyone in their forties reading this. To anyone else I look like, dare I say it, Fat Kylie.

Phil, Cookie and Mum, Dad, E, K etc have done a sterling job of looking after me up here and now I am looking forward to my next chemo dose. Well sort of. I'm looking forward to staying alive is another way of puttting it.

Five
Amazing
Things

1) Body Shop Foundation
2) Body Shop concealer
3) Size 12 clothes
4) Scales
5) Fiancee and being engaged

Enjoying Life in the Country

Life is beautiful - just waiting for Phil to finish work while I stay at his parents house:

Five
Amazing
Things

1) My one carat brilliant cut diamond engagement ring
2) The accurate watch Mum lent me on my left hand which accurately tells the time
3) The magnetic bracelet with a tibetan symbol which is like a crystal on my right hand. This helps with the nausea
4) My amazing zing a zing, ten to the power of infinity fiance who is the best in the world
5) All the doctors and nurses in the world and the beautiful fresh, breezy and sunny air of the Midlands, in England

Chemo's started and I'm fine

Yes. Chemo started on Thursday. To precipitate the momentous horrendosity of losing one's hair I have had all mine chopped off. I bought some clippers and HRH did the business (properly) after I did a v poor job on Wednesday. Then after Thursday which was worse than I was expecting, I spent two days in bed. Followed by a night in hospital when we thought I might be allergic to something, but it was probably a panic attack brought on by the steroids.

Now I'm fine, apart from waking up at 5am. So I've done loads, for example ringing up one of my dementia tutors to get that baby up and running again, and plan to do even more (Like watch Murder She Wrote). And Jeremy Kyle's been sorting out more peoples' lives. I'm amazed he hasn't been canonized.

The cats are more perky today as the sun's come out. I'm fed up with Broadband altogether and my new tactic is sitting by the door at the internet cafe. It doesn't work. In fact it's worse as there's a more concentrated build up of smell just at the door.

The strange thing is, because I was expcecting to me more sick, I now have more time than I was expecting on my hands. Anyway it's all good. Still meditating etc, but really just looking forward to the spring more than ever.

Does Richard Littlejohn upset anyone else?

I did actually glance at the Mail yesterday - it was lying on the table at the Library when I was browsing the Ecologist.

Littlejohn upsets me, and like Blaglady says it's not long ago since people were publicly lynched. There's a good new programme called '100% English' which was on last night which proved to some racist idiots that they're not English after all. The problem with the concept of free speech though is that the media is not controlled by the nice man who presents 100% English, me or Blaglady. It's owned by cretins like Murdoch, the Barclay brothers, Lord Rothermere and Dirty Desmond.

So now instead of saying to the racists 'You can't say that', we have to argue with them. Quite frankly I'm too busy. I feel like the only person alive who doesn't believe in the nation state or national boundaries. Nationality's just a tool to create barriors, racism, angst and soldiers.

I'm coming round to Jeremy Kyle though. He said today there was no excuse for sexist behaviour in 2006. He didn't seem to mind that this sexist guy was smashing up his own furniture. He was more concerned that he wasn't helping his partner change their baby's nappy. Good.

Anyway can't stay long. The smell is getting to me a bit and I want to watch 'Murder She Wrote'.

Chemo starts on Thursday 23rd November

At Barts. Am in Library and only got 6 minutes left. It doesn't smell. But if Hitler had've designed libraries this would be his inspiration.

Other News - my Tracey Emin books have arrived at library. Written to Diane Abbott and complained about the regulations of ovarian tissue freezing. Also we still have £40K equity on the flat. Hurrah! Might go and buy the Daily Mail.

The future's Zen (NOT orange)

Yes, we've been without broadband or any internet connection whatsoever for God knows how long. And we've sacked Orange. Utter, utter useless idiots.

I'm in the smelly internet cafe now, but only one teenager in sight as it's probably a bit early for them.

Other news - We've bought the dress! Brilliant.

Chemo due to start any second, but I still don't know when.

The cats are lovely and everything is good. I can apparently cop out of chemo if it's too horrible after four sessions. Good. Quincy has been replaced by Murder she Wrote on the afternoon schedule. I think I prefer Murder She Wrote. Midsomer Murders is so slow moving we had to retire to bed before it finished last night.

We've had our first meeting of the Green Party. I told them their strategy needed to have global warming further up the proposal than who types the minutes. I didn't sabotage it though, I'm saving the launch of my 'Tax the Rich' campaign for a later date.

Meditation going well, and I even bought a magazine about it the other day. So it's great that our new internet provider is called 'Zen'. They typically cost infinitely more than the alternative. Typical. Yes, have a bit of paradise, but only if you can afford it.

Anti Antiporn

Just like Germaine Greer and any other famous anarchists you can mention, they start contradicting themselves at virtually every opportunity. OK, so this internet cafe doesn't smell. And there's no porn. But everyone in here is applying for jobs.

To put it simply - I feel like I'm at work. So there you have it. The choice is yours. Pornography or work? A very, well, not-difficult question.

Draw your own conclusions. There is some philosophy in there but I need to get it articulated effectively without causing offnonsence.

Three minutes to go and the light is flashing. It's like that exam. Or Driving Test.

Orange is rubbish plus more FAT

A quick moan - we've given up on Orange and the other Internet Cafe smelt so bad I've found another one. It doesn't smell and is fiercely anti-pornography so they're aren't so many teenagers in this one. Anti-porn is v fashionable in Stoke Newington. Good.



More nice news - we've watched Anchor Man which was hilarious (1)
2) The Tattonmeister and his beautiful girlfriend came to stay at the weekend and we impressed them with LMNT (Restaurant in Hackney).
3) Watched the Royle Family and loved it but it made me cry just as much as it made me laugh. I suppose that's Life.
4) I've collected my sewing machine and have been preparing all the trousers I'm going to shorten.
5) Beautiful weather and our wedding photographer is coming on Tuesday to take 'some engagement shots'! Hurrah!

More FAT (Five Amazing Things)

Yes, I've put on weight since not exercising as much - surprise surprise -, but like I say I'm fattening up for chemo. The thought of losing so much weight that my muscle starts wasting away is the inspiration behind scoffing plenty of risotto and curry daily. My FAT technique (Five Amazing Things - geddit?) is to moan a bit, then counterbalance this with a list of Five Amazing Things (FAT). You see Mum's theory is that any sort of creative writing does you the world of good. IE have a good moan, do whatever you like. The professionals seem to think that you have to count your blessings or 'beautiful things' or 'amazing things' (Copyright Tattontastic 2006) or whatever you want to call it. Some like to call it 'MONEY', but I don't personally ascribe to that viewpoint. Well, I could be convinced...

Anyway, I am feeling a bit better than yesterday

1) Done four book reviews on Amazon - Sophie's World, How to be Happy, The Fragrant Pharmacy and Stress-Free Living.
2) The cats are lovely. V cuddly.
3) We've decided that today is a 'Holiday'. Phil has also given himself the day off so he's been playing 'Dawn of War' and I've been doing number 1) above
4) Doing 1) has made me realise what a brilliant book Sophie's World is.
5) Doing lots of meditation which is excellent and I love it.
6) Doing Book Reviews is great - it's better than reading the book as you sort off soak it up like a sophisticated computer. As we are of course.
7) Done an extra Two Amazing Things - and that spells TAT.

Don't bother to read this I'm just moaning (but I will include five amazing things - FAT)

Various people have complained to me about this blog that I complain too much on it. ANYWAY. The operation has been cancelled. Pissedoff I think is the word to describe me at the moment. With a capital P. You know when something goes wrong and then suddenly everything seems shit? The bin needs emptying, you're accidentally tripping over ten million kids who are on half term - OF COURSE - and they're all at the Tate Modern where you've decided to come with your Dad, who's taken the day off etc etc. Someone recommends an annoying website, written by someone who claims to be a 'Health Journalist'. And you think to yourself how come this person isn't reporting the huge cuts going on? How come their rubbish happy-clappy website is more popular than mine? How come I'm not a 'Health Journalist'?
How come they're not campaigning so that LIVING HEALTHY PEOPLE can freeze their own ovarian tissue for the future?

Anyway, I'm too busy trying to stay healthy etc etc ad infinitum to bother getting angry about anything. Instead of getting angry I'm being creative. Some might call it plagiarism. Annoyance/Anger/Jealousy one could say is misplaced PRIDE. I'm proud of this amazing woman and her blog. So she's number one in today's FAT list:

1) Three beautiful things
2) The Millennium Bridge not bouncing. In fact even when it was the Bouncing Bridge it was good.
3) The Tate Modern.
4) Joan Mitchell's piece next to the window showing the Millennium Bridge
5) Phone call from Mum & Not going to work - even when it is Half Term. Love it.

Five Amazing Things

Counting your blessings is one of those things that's supposed to help with improving one's mood and mentioned in one of my favourite books - Making Slough Happpy. It turns out that Slough has been voted or established as the least tranquil place in the UK, but Hackney is the worst place to live. What about in the world? I bet Hackney isn't the worst place in the world to live. Basra probably beats it. Anyway I didn't even realise this when I changed my mind about going into town this afternoon as I'd have to walk past the human excrement and mounds of illegal rubbish outside our front door, not to mention the stationery traffic on the road ourside our house because presumably Transport for London have decided to alter the road set up without consultation. Moan moan moan.

1) The wonderful mild weather meaning we haven't had the heating on yet
2) Celeriac cooked in butter with organic roasted ham and brocolli for lunch
3) £30 John Lewis vouchers arriving on a Monday morning
4) Being able to have pioneering fertility preserving treatment on the NHS - just like Kylie Minogue
5) Fully operational dishwashers, cups of tea, aromatherapy with geranium and Clary sage, and Sunday lunch times with friends, champagne and babies

Five Amazing Things

1) My friend's wedding present arrived - a Lemon Tree and an Orange Tree
2) The books which I had ordered from the library arrived - 3 wedding books about dresses and flowers!
3) The wonderful colours in the garden of Virginia Creeper - looks beautiful from the bedroom window and the Solanum is at its peak of white flowers from the living room
4) A gorgeous gift from Phil of beautiful bright yellow chrysathymums. Fantastic.
5) Phil set up the dehumidifier which also arrived in time for winter yesterday

What do you have to do to get signed photos these days?

Dear Russell Brand

Re: Returning of Favour

You may remember living with me in Hampstead above a pub ten years ago. I was a happy go lucky, hard working, young and attractive 22 year old at the time. I was living in the ‘Queen’s Head’ or ‘Arms’ in the literal non-conjugal sense of the word with an old actor who was the landlord (Barry from Eastenders?). He had sympathies with young, male, drama students like yourself and was I believe that way inclined if you know what I mean. From what I remember there were the three of us living with ‘Barry from Eastenders’ who had a terrible temper – you, me and this other, shorter-than-you drama student who was your mate. Can’t remember his name I’m afraid but I think he had fair hair, quite short and he used to say things like ‘I’m going to dress up as a chicken every day for the rest of my life if that’s what being an actor means’. You used to wait on his every whim. I remember there was a lovely, voluptuous lady who took a shine to you (‘Oh, That Russell’s Lovely’) who used to do the Sunday roasts for £3 a time, she was into the New Age Traveller scene as it was then. She had an on-off relationship with this other guy who I also can’t remember his name, but I think he used to sell dope.

And we used to sit on each others beds and make each other laugh – do you remember? It was all very innocent and good fun. Those were the days.

And imagine my delight when a couple of months ago I realise that you have reached the Zenith of 21st century life. You are, in anyone’s books a ‘Celebrity’! I happened to tune in to ‘Big Brother’s Little Brother’ on Channel 4 (my fiancé has banned me from watching Big Brother itself) and you were there performing some funny lamentations on life. Then you started talking in a very Shakespearean way. I thought – ‘Oh how unusual a TV presenter having what appears to be classical drama training’. Then I was immediately brought back to 1996 and the conversations I had with you and your mate about the value of classical drama training. And that thing happens when you suddenly realise that you’ve met someone before. You think ‘Oh yes - it is him, he hasn’t got his hair tied back, he’s put on a bit of weight, and he doesn’t seem as sweet and innocent. Yes, it appears that the person who I knew as Russell has aged.’

I also love the fact that your politics, football supporting, gender awareness and of course, sense of humour are all so advanced and well developed now.

(Second Page)
Unfortunately I was diagnosed with breast cancer a couple of months ago and I was wondering if you could possibly now earn forgiveness from me, for that shift you failed to swap, which meant I got the sack from my job in the pub thus becoming homeless. (I’m not homeless anymore so some things have got better).

Could you visit me in hospital when I’m having chemo – it starts in a few weeks. Or a couple of free tickets to one of your gigs. Or perhaps I could have a signed photo?

Thanks and I look forward to hearing from you,

Best wishes and love from

We've found the dress!

One of the joys of being a slightly older bride than everyone else is that you can ask everyone else how they might have improved their own wedding. Anyway, one of the things I didn't think I'd be over fussy about was the dress. However, after speaking to friends on the issue - even the ones who also thought they weren't that fussy - they actually are. Anyway - we've found the dress! I'm more excited than ever. Blaglady helped me pick it which is very exciting too, as she is the Madame of Cool. I obviously can't describe it as Phil may read this. The main thing is, it suits me - the style. I didn't think it would, but it did. It was the first one I tried on (in the v posh shop). The shop assistant was excellent as although I said I liked it from the website, she said try it on first. We caught her off guard at the end of the appointment (the shop assistant) when I asked if it was ethically sourced and produced. She basically owned up and said it was made in a Chinese sweat shop. Ho Hum.

Then we had a sumptuous lunch at Carluccios where I've never been and sauntered over to the Barbican and milked the Corporation of London for every penny we could - by going to the Library. It was wonderful and I took some photos of the plants people have on their balconies. One day, when I have learned how to compute I will put them on here. Trailing greenery in a beautiful water drenched concrete jungle. On this beautiful day of chat, good food, books, rain, warmth and dress finding.

A list for World Mental Health Day

One of my favourite bits from the 'Expert Patient Programme' was a session where we all contributed and gave a list of all the things which we do to cheer us up a bit, which don't cost anything. All of them you should be able to do on your own.
Here is mine:
1) Yoga
2) Meditation
3) Alexander Technique
4) Write an entry on blog
5) Write a book review on Amazon
6) Tidy up kitchen
7) Tidy up bedroom
8) Cycle
9) Sort out books
10) Take photos
11) Stroke cats
12) cheery music
13) Classic FM
14) Relaxation
15) Comedy DVD
16) Cooking
17) Sewing
18) Birdwatching
19) Gardening
20) Write poems
21) Read
22) Go on internet
23) Phone friends and family
24) Write lists
25) Plan wedding, holiday or event

'I wanna help - for the sake of the kids'

Jeremy Kyle has just persuaded some youngster to carry on talking on his programme with this comment. The other lady on the platform accused her of being an 'unfit mother'. The ultimate insult.

Surely it's more like 'I wanna interfere - for the sake of the ratings.'

I'm doing anything to avoid ringing the mortgage solicitors who have written a complicated letter. We know about two thousand solicitors - friends and relatives - but too hungover yesterday to contact any of them.

So now, here I am watching Jeremy Kyle, thinking about the state of the nation's teeth (the family on the platform are quite handsome bar the teeth). Anyway at least some member of my family hasn't asked me to go on Jeremy Kyle. What would I say? I'd politely decline. I'd probably use cancer as an excuse 'Yes, I'd love to go on the Jeremy Kyle show, but my cancer treatment might make it a bit difficult'. I'd rather talk to solicitors than that. They're not as critical as Jeremy Kyle. Every programme he says 'That is wrong'. How does he know? Is he God?

What a wonderful way to spend a Saturday afternoon

I've had a marvellous time dipping in and out of books, criticising them, Stroking the cats, thinking about art and history and operating the DVD player for the first time.

My latest trick to financial management is to have a hearty meal before shopping. And send a relative out to shop instead.

So, I'm well fed, enjoying my chemo-ready size twelve in comfortable trousers and watching a Tracey Emin film - Top Spot. She is the best British artist if you ask me. The music is amazing, the cinematography inspirational, and the sentiment is liberating, especially to a thirty something who doesn't live in Margate, comme moi. I still don't like violence in films. There is no need for the suicide in the film.

Anyway, It's so lovely to see a film where there isn't one man. Not one. So refreshing. And they notice it when you don't put them in films. I heard them comment about it on Radio Four about Volver. But they don't seem to notice when women aren't in films.

Top Form. My first film might be called that.

Then I look her up on Amazon and you can't even get her film! I don't know whether to laugh or cry. Should I be ecstatic that I've got a 'limited edition' film of hers that you can't seem to get even on Amazon?

I have done another book review - Love in the Western World - which I was particularly pleased with as I employed my amazing skim reading technique. Turn over every page and look at each page, not necessarily reading every word. In fact definitely not reading every word. I've also thoroughly researched exactly how to get to become to be a top 1000 reviewer. Which is more time consuming than it sounds. I had to trawl through a thousand pages of names looking at the ratio of items reviewed to positive reviews. Even gettinig to be in the Amazon top 1000 reviewers means that you have to have some element of 'vote'. So obviously reviewing out-of-publication books which nobody wants isn't going to get me anywhere.

Who wants to be popular anyway? Certainly not leaders (it says so in the Guardian today) but what about non-leaders who want an easy, pottering around life, blogging and doing Amazon book reviews? I'm aiming to get in their top 1000 reviewers. It's going to be difficult. Especially if they don't have the stuff I'm reviewing. It's a medium term aim.

'Have you been watching Autumn Watch? Because we think you've been rutted'

We had a hilarious incident last night where some piece of geeky equipment Phil was getting from Ebay had not turned up. How it works is if someone's a bit rubbish you give them a bad review - a bit like me with Amazon book reviews. Except when you're an ebay buyer ebay then publish your reviews, whereas Amazon don't like most reviews of mine and publish about 2% of them.

Anyway, Phil had given this rubbish seller (he only buys) a bad review. So some other geek then emails him at about 4am saying how he'd given this bad seller some cash and hadn't received the goods. I suggested the above response. How we laughed.

Prenuptial Planning Pleasures

Now Work want me to jump through a few more hoops to get back, which I'm casually skipping round, I'm able to fully dedicate myself to the pleasures of wedding planning. I've booked myself an appointment at Jenny Packham, the celebrities' bridal shop. And I'm thoroughly excited.

The Tattonmeister is tarting up our tunes for the day.

The Royal Navy have helpfully changed their rules of engagement so He's not so tempted to abscond.

The mortgage is managed, and we're on the way to a happy, long and successful marriage and I can't wait! The children are on ice, the Fertility Goddess is pregnant herself, which must bode well, and Mum's ordered the bluebell bulbs and bunting bonanza.

The favours are fabulous, the engagement ring is sparkling, the food's fab, the marquee marvellous, the guests are great, and we're going to 'Rock and Roll' tomorrow night with Tom Stoppard.

Fattening up for Chemo

For some time now, my betrothed and I have been discussing 'fattening up for chemo'. I am officially at least a size 12 on my bottom half (size 16 in some quarters) and every time I see anyone I know 'Oh you look so well' code word 'You've put on weight'. A couple of weeks ago close friends directly asked if I was pregnant.

I've started taking one sugar in my tea (as opposed to half and trying to cut down). I've started drinking the government limit in alcohol - 14 units a week and I'm not taking much exercise. We're still eating like Kings - in fact better. I don't have any cold food whatsoever which is just how I like it. I know Gillian Mckeith would have something to say about that.

I tried on my mate's wedding dress a few days ago - whose brother used to nickname her 'Miss Piggy' and it was too small for me.

But I remember blaglady saying a few years ago that one puts on a dress size every decade so even without [non] intentional fattening up, I'm fine.

My paranoia about everything has completely dissipated too - I got a leaflet from Fulham about the risk factors for breast cancer. Basically nobody knows what causes it (just as I was told on day 1) and there's conflicting information about every risk - so you may as well relax and enjoy yourself. I'm not forcing myself to drink brocolli and sprout juice every 5 minutes, or cutting out dairy, or worrying about water or anything at all. I'm back on full strength deodorant, underwired bras, moderate drinking, wonderful food, you name it, I'm at it.

How to Manage Cancer (and other long term conditions) - An introduction

There's a quick answer to this - go on the 'Expert Patient Programme website'. The website is understandably slightly rubbish as they don't want to give away the course/programme/skills on it. All is not lost, as I've now got eons of time to spare as it looks like I'm not going back to work for another 6 months, just carry on reading!

I've talked about the Expert Patient Programme before; I was lucky enough to encounter it as I work within the NHS and signed up to it after a brief period of anxiety/depression. It's the best tool or system that I've been taught that's enabled me to deal with not just cancer but life itself. It's different from a 'self help group' as it's much more directed - all people with long term conditions or illnesses are taught skills together, in a group of about ten, over six weeks. Little comparisons are made with other participants (a negative experience I've had elsewhere) - as there is only a two minute slot right at the start of the course where the participants disclose their 'condition' and the difficulties it brings. The self management course is taught by two tutors. One of which is 'regional' from the Department Of Health (until it was privatised recently) and another is 'local' - a volunteer from the local community (comme moi) who's been on the four day training. Both tutors have to have a 'condition' themselves.

Primarily what I don't like about it (the programme) is it's secrecy. It's been 'copyrighted' by Stanford University in the USA, so as 'tutors' we are not allowed to duplicate the material. This gives it the impression, of when you first come into contact with it, of it being like a cult, which I used to joke about when I first did it. You get a glimpse of that on the website - people saying how wonderful it is, but not specifically how or why. I hope to address that here.

When I have the comptuer skills necessary - if Mr P can do this computer lark then I'm sure I can - then I'm going to try and make an accessible version of the programme on the web.

The 'course' is really an 80 page script which the tutors read from, based on about 25 'charts' - which are flip-chart size with about five bullet points each normally.

Chart One - is a course overview - displays in chart form the different skills and areas we learn:
-Overview of self-management and chronic health conditions
- making an action plan [a key part of the course which is taught at every class)
- Relaxation/cognitive symptom management
- feedback/problem solving [covered in 5/6 classes]
- anger/fear/frustration
- fitness/exercise
- better breathing
- fatigue
- nutrition
- living wills [don't like this bit]
- communication
- medications
- making treatment decisions
- depression
- informing the health care team
- working with your health care professional
- future plans

Chart Two : Responsibilities

1. Come to every session
2. Ask anything you want
3. Maintain confidentiality
4. Do your homework
5. Give new activities at least a two-week trial
6. Make and complete a weekly action plan
7. Call your classmate weekly

Chart Three:

Self-Management Tasks

1. Take care of your chronic health problem
2. Carry out your normal activities
3. Manage your emotional changes

The script for each of the 2.5 hour sessions is about 15 pages long. But will Tattontastic have the stamina, courage and skills to publish? Watch this space...

Another perfect weekend

We've had a tough couple of weeks what with tooth problems and hormones, creating a nasty cocktail of overall bad mood. So my betrothed and I decided to treat ourselves to a lovely weekend in Sussex.

It was marvellous - the weather was perfect, albeit slightly windy causing us to deploy some serious science (he really is a genius that fiancee of mine) when pulling the tent down. We found this campsite as it was recommended in a book that we got recently which gives you lovely photos as well as description.

It was ideal in many ways as the campsite was only a couple of hours drive from London, and in beautiful rolling countryside, plus we could have gone to Brighton for the day if we'd have wanted. And we managed to pack in some cycling too! It was better than ever, as something that I hadn't realised which Phil has introduced me to is of course the concept of cycling on bridalways. Absolutely perfect as you're cruising along, with no prospect of being knocked off by cars and the only thing you have to worry about is your fitness level and how to negotiate the couple of pedestrians you might see. And the variety of landscapes in Sussex is incredible - brown rolling ploughed fields, then sweet smelling woodlands and dramatic steep slopes. The local area has had prosperity for centuries - there is every example of architecture you can think of, when you least expect it - like the Tudor townhouses in the little village of Ditchling.

On Saturday we cycled to the wonderful pub 'Jolly Sportsman' and had a great meal - we think it should have a michelin star. Then on Sunday we cycled from our campsite up to the two Windmills 'Jack and Jill' and had our picnic lunch from a wonderful viewpoint soaking up the delightful dark green and golden, windswept autumnal scene.

Number One Reviewer at Amazon

Isn't me, or an academic - but some guy who likes country music and horse racing. Fascinating. Perhaps he owns a horse so he can spare the time to do it. I found it whilst looking at the reviews for Abbey Road. How sad is that? This is the thing. You feel under pressure with *time* because of work then spend it unproductively watching TV and going on the internet, looking at reviews of the blindingly obvious - like to see how good Abbey Road is. I already own it, have listened to it approximately a million times and rate it as the best album ever.

Dishwasher working again - and it may not be the only one

Yep. The Dishwasher is wonderful again. It was the way I was putting the stuff in - hampering the tablet dispenser. It seems to love working in fact, which is a hell of a lot more than I can say for me, who absolutely detests it with a passion. It should be illegal (work). People seem to think it's the best thing since sliced bread - even for me. I don't understand this theory - I haven't been happier the past four months as I've been given a legitimate reason to be off work and I absolutely love it. Under no pressure whatsoever from anyone . I've got enough time to fold washing after it comes out the washing machine, dip into magazines, properly put the washing out, cook, propogate plants, sort out the recycling, write a list every day that I can tick things off. Not really give a hoot about anyone else apart from myself (and Phil).

I don't panic about where my diary or mobile phone is or even what time it is. I'm able to meditate twice a day at whatever time I like and just appreciate the beauty of the sunshine, rain or leaves. There is no one judging me, or trying to get one up on me by putting more time into something I'm doing, there's no one criticising my every move and I'm allowed to criticise whoever I want, wherever I want, whenever I want.

They call this freedom. Freedom to sell your beliefs, sell your soul, sell whatever you want - as long as you're also buying with the money you've earned from all that blasted selling. But the labour you sell has got to be something They want. Generally They don't like what I'm selling. I don't want to get into that vicious cycle of Them buying something I don't want to sell or provide, because it's against everything I stand for, but which I then go and spend on something I don't like or want.

But then actually most of the things, if not all of them I need, so, needs must and I need to go back to work, selling my generally unwanted labour to earn some wonga. [I would print a swear word here, but various parents read this blog so I won't offend anyone.]

Time is the most precious thing of all and the fact that we're persuaded, cajouled, convinced and forced to sell most of ours all our lives is a travesty of the so-called modern world.