Seeing the World

Saturday saw two trips down memory lane.  Jason was in town and we agreed to breakfast in Wetherspoons.  Initiating him in to our world of ordering by app and unlimited coffee he brought memories of when he was assistant manager to me in a small bank branch in one of Manchester’s inner city areas.

To have two members of management in such a small branch was probably top heavy, but it did mean I could give him an opportunity to act as manager and learn how to get the fest out of others.  It’s fair to say he was quite good at it and his genuine ambition to go on and do other things career wise seems to have served him well.

It was also a reminder of a team I’d long since forgotten.  No superstars, but people who supported each other and somehow delivered exceptional results.  I had a sad moment last night when I remembered one of them is no longer with us.

While I enjoyed my second plate of pancakes in a week, and with temperatures at six degrees Celsius, Chris reported that the Oldham match had been called off – frozen pitch.  The back up plan of Stockport v Brackley in the quarter finals of the FA Trophy was instigated.   £8 for disabled,  free for carer.  But not the bargain anticipated!

It was as cold a wind as I remember feeling, despite air temperature being supposedly mild.  And the match was awful.  But as the cold and boredom manifested itself, I stared at my walking stick and remembered a character who I first saw at the ground in the early 1980s.  Mad Arthur.  He was at least 110 years old and had a habit of waving his walking stick at opposition goalkeepers and match officials, combined with toothless bad language and insults

Back in the days of terracing, you could walk around the two sides of the ground.  Behind one goal first half.  Alongside the other goal second half.  Arthur, the world’s oldest hooligans effing and jeffing throughout the ninety minutes with many a linesman intimidated by his antics.

There was a story that he once led a pitch invasion in a game against Bradford.  I’ve no idea if it was true.  I really hope it was.

And then the final whistle blew.  A 1-1 draw and escape to the warmth of the BMW.

An opportunity to donate to Roy Castle Lung Cancer Foundation

Around the same time as my lung cancer diagnosis came another medical condition. Bell’s palsy.  It’s meant to go away on its own, but well over a year later it hasn’t.

Half my face is expressionless, frozen.  My right eye doesn’t close and keeping liquids from slipping out of my mouth is an art I’ve developed to avoid looking like a dribbling fool.

The condition has bothered me less in the last few months.  It’s still there, in all its distorted glory, but I’ve been able to ignore it except when I tape my right eye up at night.  It needs covering to reduce the risk of becoming ulcerated.

That said, in the last two weeks it’s started to hurt again.  There’s no obvious explanation for this, but it’s needed more lacrilube ointment, sunglasses when driving in daylight and an increase in the amount of daylight time I spend with curtains closed and lights off.

Yesterday’s drive along the North Wales coast had the sun to the south, hitting my eye through the passenger window.  While tolerable for a bit I eventually succumbed to the need to stop and rest it.  And in doing so broke my golden rule of never buying drinks at the roadside.  £3.85 for a Starbucks hot chocolate wasn’t exactly a bargain, but in my new world of “you’re dying so treat yourself occasionally” it seemed preferable to the 16p bottle of supermarket own brand water in my car boot.

I giggled to myself at the disabled parking options.  You have to cross the road after parking up to get your drink.  While my hobble can achieve this, it struck me as rather dangerous expecting the slower members of society to park up and then dodge other moving cars before entering the building.  Doubtless regulations of disabled parking have been met, but common sense and consideration hasn’t.

Once inside I was served quickly.  I pondered the idea of doing this daily.  £80 a month.  £1,000 a year.  You could knock years off the term of your mortgage by giving up Starbucks and reducing your debt.

But I don’t have a mortgage.  The insurer paid that off when I was diagnosed.  So I deserve to treat myself.  And despite only being an hour into my journey it was a drink that went down well.  The lighting was low, my eye had time to recover a little.  And I was able to sit away from the other two customers and not scare them with my dodgy face and always open eye.

Then back to the car.  More ointment and a return to England.

Click here to donate to Roy Castle Lung Cancer Foundation today

It was always an outline plan to stay until Thursday.  They do have supermarkets close by too.  The choice of stay or go is very much mine.

But I think I’ll have one more hot tub session and then head home.  There’s a home game on Saturday and daytime travel will probably be safer, so as lunch arrives I’ll grill the four remaining bacon rashers, enjoy a final cup of tea with the final splash of milk and then tidy up before leaving.

Ive enjoyed this being a double break.  A few days with Rachel and a few days solo.  The hot tub is always welcome by my bones.  But a return to a marginally more social home life and seeing Chris for the first time in two weeks awaits.

Please donate to Roy Castle Lung Cancer Foundation

110 donations.  Between £2 and £200.  Most of them with the added top up of Gift Aid from HMRC.

It’s a special effort from everybody who’s donated.  Humbling to say the least.  And I’ve checked a few things with Just Giving and will keep the collection open for as long as possible.

They should ensure Roy Castle receive the first £2,241 of contributions by the end of the week.  Further donations go every week unless the total is less than £100 – in which case it hits the recipient charity monthly.  The Gift Aid, currently over £460, will also arrive monthly.

In other words, your money will start being used by Roy Castle Lung Cancer Foundation very quickly.  I’m more than grateful.

If you wish to donate, or share with friends and colleagues, the link to the Roy Castle fund raising page is here.  Small or large, all amounts of £2 or more are welcome.

I have two high risk moments in life when I retreat to the solitude of Chez Sister Anglesey hideaway.

Getting in to the hot tub and out of the hot tub.

While each step down is probably only an 18 inch drop, there is a need to be careful. I seem to have found a convoluted way to lower myself in one leg at a time.  Stronger left leg down, a little life threatening hop to the left, second leg down and in.

It’s been complicated this week by a slight left elbow strain.  So leaning gently as I would normally is not currently possible.  I’ve no idea what’s caused it, but I’ve had to find another way of supporting myself as I slowly lower myself into the welcoming waters.

Exiting usually happens an hour or so later.  I’ve found a way of leaning on a nearby chair, ensuring it doesn’t move, to keep myself safe as I leave the hot tub.

Pre-illness and I’m fairly sure I’d have hopped in and out with ease, paying jo attention to aches, strains and basic safety.

Regardless, there is little better in life than the effect of the warm water and soothing jets on my body.  It might not be life extending, but it is really appreciated!

Please give generously to my ROY CASTLE LUNG CANCER FOUNDATION effort