It’s been odd.  The messages and phone calls to tell those close to me I’m done for.  The love, the goodwill and good wishes in return.  And my thought processes.

I worry about the impact of the news on my kids and Rachel.  And despite a divorce Maggie too.  Even though they’ve known the day would come for over a year.  They seem pragmatic which helps me.  But I know inside how gutted they must feel.

I also recall with fondness the trips of last year.  And ancient family holidays too.  The wonder on Rachel’s face as she saw the Milky Way for the first time in Utah.  Chris in his element at the observatory in San Pedro, Chile.  An ancient holiday in Scotland where a series of mad comments from each child rattled out in a ten minute period as we drove around a Loch.  “Which cows give out semi-skimmed milk?”, “Where do the haggis roam?” and, overhearing a conversation about a sandwich van but mishearing the phrase “buttie wagon” the giggle inducing “where’s the buttie dragon?”.

My night was interrupted by a buttock niggle.  It seemed to hurt more now I know the end is nigh.  So I took tramadol instead of paracetamol.  And then failed to sleep.

I pondered my significant weight loss and reaching my peak adult health just eighteen months ago.  There’s a cruelty there somewhere that you sort out your fitness and then some bastard disease comes along and kills you.

I pondered separating from my ex-wife and the work colleagues I considered asking out but never did.  Confidence much easier to find from behind a computer screen.  I really think I found the real me in the last three years.  A happier me.  Walking around lakes something I love now.  Something alas I can’t really do now.

I woke up yesterday to price up an overseas trip if I’d got a better scan outcome.  £19 to Cologne the return air fare.  Hotel in the centre by the cathedral.  By the evening my main desire had become to spend as much time in that hot tub in Anglesey.  Not quite the adventure I had in mind when I started blogging.  But absolutely right for me now.

And then a thought.  Chris Rea was in Cologne cathedral when he came up with his beautiful song The Bones of Angels.  Never a hit.  But always wonderful.

The End of the Line?