The Cancer Card

May is still my favourite month and It's Time to say Goodbye

2008-05-18T16:29:00.018Z

May is still my favorite month, and this May sees the end (finger's crossed) of my Cancer treatment for the foreseeable future.

I started out on this journey in May 2006, when London leaf and bud were preparing with me, for my darling daughter Aimi's marriage, little knowing what lay ahead in the months to come after the wedding celebrations were over.

24 months later, I am now free of all treatment and, as far as anyone knows, free of Cancer, thanks to early detection and the wonderful care and treatment I have received.

I am at the other end of the tunnel with a new crop of wavy hair. I have survived!

And so it is time to end this blog else it will drift into being just a chatty diary which was not it's purpose.

It was time to end it a month ago but I have procrastinated and dragged my feet towards this inevitable parting. It has been really hard to sit down and close this chapter in my life. A psychiatrist that I consulted for six sessions prior to my marriage in the early seventies due to a pair of very cold feet (they knew what lay ahead!!!) once said two very wise things to me that I have held on to for life.

The first thing he said was that my relationship in my forthcoming marriage would be no better and no worse after marriage than it was at that precise time. He was absolutely right, of course, and my hopes that things would get better with a ring on my finger proved not to be so.

The second amazing insight he gave me after a relatively short, getting-to-know-me, period was "Why are you so afraid to lose the thing you love"?

I have never found a satisfactory answer to that question, and it's origin must lie in childhood somewhere, but, in spite of all the work I have done on myself over the years, the fear is still alive and kicking today. If I love something or someone, that love is almost always intertwined with the terror of imminent loss and/or abandonment.

With any loss, whether person, place or thing, there is the inevitable empty space to be experienced before new growth replaces it, and so with a fairly heavy heart it's time to say goodbye and face the void bravely and with many, many thank yous to be expressed.

We Do Belong!
I received a small royalty cheque this morning, for mechanical sales of my little song "We Don't Belong" - now viewable on You Tube and available on itunes!! (sorry about the plug!)

This fairly obscure disc which I recorded in 1965 has been re-discovered and re-released on two compilation cds, recently, one of which was nominated for two Grammy Awards this February (best historical and best packaging!) and is still staggering on saleswise!!

In order to achieve any of the meager success this little song has earned, I needed the help of a 70 piece live orchestra to accompany me all those years ago at Lansdowne Recording Studios, Notting Hill.

In order to get through early stage breast cancer, surgery, chemotherapy and other treatments, I have needed another 70 piece live orchestra which has been made up of my family and friends who have stood by me with love, support, encouragement, presents and practical help to see me safely through this passage.

I would like to acknowledge them now.

On piano, my wonderful daughter Aimi who was gifted to me staight from heaven. For her huge and constant range of always being there; for quietly fetching me, after her work, in my dressing gown and taking me back to hers for supper on the bad days, for standing on the steps at the Marsden with tears matching mine in her eyes when we were told I had to have chemo, and for being the best daughter anyone could ever hope to be lucky enough to have - Thank you darling!

On drums, cousin Christopher, for providing a steady and continuous beat of practical helpfulness, cheerfulness and encouragement (as did cousin Irene) and for all the cups of tea and chats on my bed in the morning that kept me going. - Thank you Chris!

My son in law Massimo on bass, who held it all together on the occasions when I just had to work. For carrying equipment that I was too tired to manage and changing rolls of film when my fingers were too creaky to do it and for ferrying me about - Thank you Mass!

To my darling granddaughter Mia, on triangle, for providing the light entertainment and the joy of her company after school and at weekends. Thank you darling Mia!

The (heart) Strings section containing: Connie & Peter, Sue Coles, Irene, Francis Topp, Penny Tham, Mary Morris, Deborah Peat, Aunty Amy, Lisa Nokes, Amica & Frenchie and Liane Saunders, all of whom I will NEVER be able to thank enough. Thank you all!

Instrumentalists, Brother Jon and Jessica, Johnanna and Sam, cousins - Bill & Bernie, Stephen, Robert & Jane, Johny & Janet, Richard, David Whitt, David & Marysia, Digby, Cherry, Kinny; dear friends, Avril & Winston, Jenny Lee-Wright, Robin & triplets, Ruth and Alan Franks, Cam & Kate Fairchild, Karine & Donald McCall, Michael, Chad & Lainie Vaughan, Peter & Sherry Doyle, Marc Guild, Bill Potts, Leslie & Robert Engels; Barry Fitzgerald, Kerry Falcon, Bernice, Ric Hiscott, Annie, Leapy
lee, Kearrey Graham, Ann Findon, Andi Welman, Barbara Frederickson, Maureen Holllinrake, Sarah Wooldridge, Judy Chilcotte, Julie Ivelaw-Chapman, Cynthia Rogers, Caroline Gardner, Zelda (Valerie) Chesterfield, Nick and Fiona Carter, Jane Russell, Rosallind Bailey, Caroline Upton, Andrea, Sylvia Boyd Norris, June Reed, Carol Reed, Les Reed, Donna Reed. Roger Greenaway, Sean DeVine, Karen Crowley, Verina Wilson, Diana Baer, Nigel Ryan, Jeremy Vaughan, Carol Stockham, Pam, Dunja Lavrova, Richard Gambrill.

Chorus: Beppie, Robert Wodjaki, Karima Chentous, Sveltla, Katya,Mrs Morozgalska, Father Mark & the staff at St John's school. Maxine & Yvone, the Hair Garden.
Claire Nichols for reflexology, psychology and healing. Alex, Gosia & Chris at the Haven.
Mr Gui - surgeon extraordinnaire, Mr Smith's oncology team of doctors; Marsden nurses Francesca, Olive, Valerie, Stephanie, Zoe, Jenny, Paulina, Sonia, Michelle, Motoko, Arleen, Soot Mee, & Zena on reception

And last, but certainly not least, my ever-young musical director, Russell Herring who put a song in my heart, and wielded his magic baton throughout the symphony with some unforgettable solos on the French Horn. - Don't ask!!!!

I shall now step down as Priniciple Artist and take my place again in the Great Orchestra of life as we all roll along to the music and to our ultimate and unavoidable Destination together.

If I have helped anyone who has been dealt the Cancer Card through the sharing of my experience it has been well worth it and that makes me feel good.

Thank you all
Thank you for listening
Thank you for reading
Thank you for phone calls, presents, cards, flowers, hugs and smiles
Thank you for your love

We DO Belong!!! We belong to each other

and - All Shall Be Well.

2008-04-24T00:48:00.028Z

"Eat and drink! For you know not whence you came, nor why; Eat and drink! For you know not why you go, nor where" Omar Khayem.

Its time for a celebration!

I had my last (if the Great Spirit of the Universe decrees) treatment of Herceptin, the wonder Cancer preventative drug, today.

I took the angels (nurses) a box of my favourite Lindt chocolates to say thank you, and was late as usual, and, as usual nobody minded or said anything.

The needle went in sweet as a nut and the infusion proceeded effortlessly. For the last time, hopefully, I gave my name and date of birth, and the nurse read out the name of the drug, quantity to be given and today's date, as a safety check before getting on with it.

I took my last Ham sandwich and apple juice plus 2 cups of tea from Esther, the rather grumpy tea lady, who I have finally coaxed a smile out of, and sat back like an old pro for the hour and a half process.

The yellow room was cheerful and bubbling with goodness and I acknowledged a few buddies I have made along the way with a smile and a nod.

They say there are no coincidences, and I found myself sitting next to a young woman with a fairly apprehensive expression who was on Day One of FEC chemo - same as I had last year. I was able to keep her talking as the first canula was inserted (it took two go's - my first took 4 goes!) and reassure her that the whole process would not be as bad as she might fear.

Later I sent her by email, my chapter on the first chemo cycle and the one where the hair starts to go so that she can know what to expect, and we exchanged phone numbers in case she needs some support.

Having been signed off and told I don't have to return for 3 months when I am due for a check up, I said goodbye to the Royal Marsden and its angels, and 19 months after the "big shock" I stepped quietly out of the building into the Spring sunshine with a light step and caught a number 414 bus back to Fulham to collect Mia and her friend Isadora from school.

We sat on the blue bench and played with the guinea pigs till it was time to go to Aimi's for supper.

Highlights of the month include:

The gift of a bar of Russian chocolate from Oxana who came to stay at the Boot Inn at the beginning of the month. The manufacturers over there are trying to get away from all the garish colours of modern life and go back to the old style wrappers. Very 'tasteful' - and delicious!

A walk in Bishop's Park with Sue, Chilli Pepper the dog and her adorable little grandson Archie who was born 11 weeks early weighing just over 2 lbs but has struggled hard to survive and is now a healthy 10 pound bouncing baby boy. The little hat I found him in Frog Orange in Headington has been a great hit!

A trip with Mia along the wobbly bridge over the
Thames to Tate Modern. It was my first visit there. I am not a modern art connisseur - in fact I just don't get it - nor do I really want to but it was time to at least have a look. I was not disappointed. At least 95% of the "artworks" such as arms coming out of the wall or the pile of bricks left me cold and insulted my intellligence. I'm sorry, but a black painting in a black frame - Art? Do me a favour! However one or two pieces were worth seeing. The huge canvasses of reflections in a river were quite beautiful, The giant Mona Lisa with moustache and beard made me chuckle, and Mia enjoyed some of the interactive games. We treated ourselves to a taxi home to the Boot Inn for a cuppa and then sat down to make our own Art from the clay pack bought in the gallery shop. Well at least I don't have to explain what they are!!!

Tea with Auntie Amy whose 100th birthday is fast approaching.
Seen here watching her favourite programme You are the Weakest Link with Ann Robinson!!!!

And an exciting visit from Bond collector extraordinaire, James Pickard and his friend James Lay who treated Robert Sellers, Christopher and I to a slap up meal at our local Thai Restaurant. "No one goes hungry when eating with me" boomed James as he ordered practically the whole menu. James Pickard has the largest collection of 007 memoribilia in the world. He has a first edition of every Fleming book - signed by Ian Fleming himself and an Aladins cave of original poster and film artwork, photographs and so on. Robert and I have been invited to view his collection in Leicester soon. He had come to London to ask us to sign some of the Battle for Bond books which he has snapped up as he is also a "fine and rare books" seller and I signed 27 of them for him. See his amazing website on www.jamesmpickard.com.

Tom, Aimi's beautiful burmese pussycat came to stay with me for two weeks while the kitchen is being made over.

Mia has taken a very fine portrait of him (left) with her digital camera which I have
framed and put on the wall! And mine is the one on the right.

I also took this one of (l to r) Mia, Isadora and Nina, the nine going on 19 year olds dressed up in my clothes, and extreme foreseeable future trouble!!!!

But for now Its great to be well! It's great to have finished treatment. It's great to be alive! It's wonderful to be a part of this troubled old world where so many are struggling to make a difference and to contribute what they can.

I've been on the receiving end of a lot of love of love during the past year and a half. It's time to put some back. Thanks for listening. I do hope something I've said has been helpful and I wish you joy and courage in your journey through the Cancer Card, and remember, as my old dearly departed friend Mark McCormack said once in his Success Secrets newsletter "The Rough is only Mental"!

ALL Shall be Well.

The Sorrows of my Heart

2008-03-13T12:27:00.029Z

I would not exchange the sorrows of my heart for the joys of the multitude. And I would not have the tears that sadness make to flow from my every part turn into laughter. I would that my life remain a tear and a smile..... A tear to unite me with those of broken heart: a smile to be a sign of my joy in existence.

- Kahlil Gibran, Tear and a Smile

I'm nearing the end of my treatment!! (Fingers crossed) I have two more Herceptin appointments over the next month and then I am done.

This week I had a final, very thorough Heart investigation to make sure that the heart muscle has not been damaged by the treatment I have been having.

Mary sat with me at the Marsden whilst I was examined by Consultant Cardiologist George Amin from Queen's Hospital, Romford. George made us laugh because he said he was an "Essex Boy"!!!! I mean, Amin?!!!!! Actually I drove him mad with my chatter and jokes and he had to keep telling me to be still so he could get a complicated reading from his machine. I was able to watch the whole process. Fascinating to see my heart pumping away and the little valves going to and fro. Every so often he would click on a dark area and take a photo of it which made me slightly nervous and I would say silly things like "Is that a lump you see on my heart?" But he patiently explained that he was not looking for lumps but merely there to measure the function of the left ventricle to make sure all was well as Herceptin could cause problems.

I did feel a bit nervous because the ultrasound room was the very one I had lain in in all innocence, 18 months ago now, when the nice nurse took my hand and gave me "that look", and the rather fiece femail Cardiologist told me that my mammogram and ultrasound scans were "abnormal" and the first icy fingers of fear gripped that same heart, now pumping away so merrily on the screen, as I said "It's not cancer though is it?" and an hour later was advised that it indeed was cancer and that I would be having a masectomy in the next two weeks.

This time, thankfully, all was well. My poor old heart which doesn't look at all battered by the slings and arrows of life, on the sceen and shows none of it's scars, has been pronounced "normal" and functioning as it should.

Mary (who took these rather glam photos) and I celebrated with a Decaf Cappuccino at the Crown Pub opposite afterwards.

The banning of Robert's book The Battle for Bond which is about my late father's involvement in the film version of Ian Fleming's books has caused a few skipped beats this month. Bruce Sachs of Tommahawk, the publisher has opted to hand back the remaining 300 books that were in the warehouse rather than oppose the Ian Fleming Will Trust lawyers in a battle as to whether or not we had the right to publish a couple of letters from Fleming to my father that had been part of the 1963 law case and therefore in the public domain as far as we were concerned. It has caused no problems in USA where the books are now selling out fast.

This has resulted in some very welcome publicity and the rush to bring out the new edition of the book which will not include the letters as illustrations (though we are allowed to reveal the content) which were not necessary to the plot anyway - merely of interest, we thought, for the reader to see. the new edition which is now eagerly awaited by thousands of Bond fans will be a sligthly smaller and less expensive version of the original lovingly put together book which was a little expensive but will be treasured by the collectors.

Sean Stowell of BBC Yorkshire interviewed Robert, Bruce and myself for the clip below. It would have been an even longer clip if Barnsley had not just beaten Chelsea a couple of hours before the broadcast so that the rest of the news was filled with Barnsley football fans celebrating in various pubs and states of sobriety.

Highlights of a rather musical month have been Christopher's birthday celebrated as usual at the Blue Elephant Tai Restaurant, Fulham Broadway with a cake supplied by Aimi that original said 'Party' on it - redesigned by Mia and me!!

Maureen's Songs from the Shows concert at the Chelsea Arts Club

Dunya Lavrova represented the Royal College of Music where she is now studying for a PHD having gained honours in her final exams last year , and played some amazingly complicated pieces brilliantly and with charisma at the Wigmore Hall on Monday 24th March. She has grown both as an artist and in composure since I last saw her over a year ago.

And last but not least Mia's Schools choirs Proms Praise for Schools" Concert at the Albert Hall, which I dutifully went along with the family to see - not expecting a wild evening.
See "Mia at Albert Hall" on You Tube.

However a grand surprise awaited us as we took our seats in the ground floor box which due to the generosity of the evenings sponsors cost a meagre £5 per head, having collected drinks for the interval .

The production was spectacular with the orchestra and 12 school choirs on stage lit beautifully with multi-coloured lights. A huge ball was suspended from the domed ceiling on which was projected scenes such as eagles in flight to accompany "Up Where We Belong" and film footage depicting Fire and Flood to highlight the Elements - which was the theme for the night. Sprays of fireworks dashed round the Grand Circle and the evening ended with a gigantic glitter ball which obliterated everything from view in a shower of golden tinsel.

As I said to Russell later on, it warmed the cockles of my heart no end!!!!

Mothering Sunday and All that Jazz

2008-03-09T23:56:00.041Z

Firstly I would like to reassure anyone who has been kind enough to worry about me, that being "back at the Marsden" means only for the preventative treatment with the wonder drug Herceptin that I have been so fortunate to be given at great expense from the National Health. Having had the all clear, months ago, with an 80% chance of non return of breast cancer in the next 10 years, my chances are improved by another 50% (taking it to 90%) by a one year treatment of Herceptin which I have been taking as a drip at 3 weekly intervals at the Day Patient Unit at the Marsden. I finish this treatment in about a month.

After that, I have the same chances as anyone else as to whether I get struck down again. I am fortunate in that I shall be watched like a hawk now, just in case.

It's almost as if it never happened.
How quickly one returns to normal life. Apart from being much more tired than I used to be and not able to push myself, everything is returning to as it was before diagnosis, except that I am mentally stronger, and have a different outlook on life and love and stuff, and an awareness of the preciousness of time and the present moment.

Mothering Sunday was one of these precious days. Having only just become a mother by the seat of my pants, as it were, I am always delighted when Aimi wants to mark it as a special occasion. She is very good about this. This year I joined the family at the service at St John's Hyde park. Aimi and Mia were both reading. It was a beautiful morning. The choir there is heavenly and they sung heartily in harmony with pianist and flute.

Before my love affair with the church waned I was a regular at St John's. This Sunday, as little children ran about with posies of daffodils for all the Mums and any other ladies too, I sat whilst so many memories came to mind from over the years. My tears falling in steady stream into the red carpet under the altar rail, when I was going through a particularly harsh time in 1984 and learning to live my life without alcohol. The joy of holding baby Mia in my arms and soothing her under my big black hat with shocking pink roses at her Christening in 2000. The still vibrant and wonderful memories of Aimi's wedding a year and a half ago when the church was filled with dearest friends & family, exquisite flowers and utter happiness as I stood reading the first reading on the same patch of carpet that once held my tears.

In the evening I went to the Ram Jam Jazz club in Kingston to celebrate dear friend, Alan Franks' presence on this planet for 60 years! Alan is a multi-talented writer, musician, poet and playwright and treated us to a fun evening of music and party pieces performed by himself and other talented friends including his two grown ups sons Simon and Jimmy, or the 'Audio Bullys' as they have become, and who are currently touring the country with their new album. I enclose a few photos. Alan also paid tribute to his father in law, Ruth's father Rev Peter Gledhill who sadly died last year. Peter was an intellectual and highly educated man and Alan sent us into hysterics with this quote from the Reverend who had once delivered this worldly wisdom to him in his wonderful slow, deep and brooding Welsh voice.

"You see Alan, the thing is,.......... as one progresses through life,........... one comes to realise that a thorough grounding in the classics; ..........a familiarity with the way in which the greatest observers of human nature set down their wisdom;............. an informed appreciation of their thought processes and linguistic expertise does, in point of fact, equip you for...........absolutely................ ......................................................nothing!"

Here is one of my favourite photographs of him holding grandson Arthur on his knee.

It was also a joy for me to hear Emily Maguire for the first time. She sings and plays with a pure quivering voice not dissimilar to the late and great Eva Cassidy. Unsurprisingly, she has just been picked to support Don McLean on his new tour. Watch this space!

It's a great day for the Whittingham's.
Some footballer called Whittingham
seems to have done a great job today. He scored in an important match and helped someone else to - can you tell? I'm not a football fan? It was on in the background and I just kept hearing the word Whittingham yelled out in that unmistakle 'man excited about sport strangulated voice' . Whittingham is my maiden name and also that of my father Jack, and we were delighted to find a large article about him and his contribution to the 007 genre in the Sunday Times today on page 10. I enclose a link in case anyone is interested and I haven't emailed you already!!

http://entertainment.timesonline.co.uk/tol/arts_and_entertainment/books/article3512072.ece

There was also a news item on BBC Yorkshire TV last night Monday 10th, at 6.30 Sky channel 976 in which Robert Sellers, Bruce Sachs and myself were interviewed on the banning of The Battle for Bond book which is all very good publicity for the next edition which we intend to publish in May! As the programe came from Yorkshire they featured my father Jack heavily and showed some wonderful old photographs of him as a young man and later on with Charles Crichton (A Fish Called Wanda) at Ealing studios. I felt proud as I watched with Aimi and Mia as Dad got some of the recognition he has always so richly deserved for producing the screenplay that helped to transform the sadistic, violent and alcoholic Bond into the suave romantic hero that he is today so that the audiences of 1960 and the likes of Messrs Saltzman and Brocolli lapped him up.

For those who have copies of The Battle for Bond, you may be interested to know that it has become a rare collectors item overnight and there are two used copies selling on Amazon.co.uk for £125 and £168 each!. If you still want a copy you can order it from Amazon.com for a lot less but hurry as it is selling out fast!

BOND WILL BE BACK SOON
Watch this space too!!!

Magic moments in the Melting Pot

2008-02-24T00:39:00.024Z

I'm back in the Day Patients Ward at the Royal Marsden for my 17th Herceptin drip. I sit comfortably with my left arm in a long yellow bucket of hot water to bring out the vein into which they will administer this extremely expensive chemical. I am being prepared by a charming nurse from the Philippines and to my right in matching armchair, sits a young Italian woman accompanied by a friend. They are speaking Italian.

To my left is a couple from Cyprus who are resident here. The attractive 50 year old lady has had a return of her cancer after a mastectomy and full lymph node removal 7 years ago and is undergoing massive chemo treatment plus Herceptin and looks amazingly well on it! She has a devoted husband sitting opposite her. They have been happily married for 32 years and it shows in the way they sit together. Just like a pair of comfortable shoes. They are speaking gently in Greek.

After a while we discuss how lucky they are to have this blissful union and I say I have been lucky in other ways.

I was driven here by a swarthy gentleman with a wispy full beard and a back skull cap. I didn't ask where he was from, but his telephone list contained several people called 'Mohammed'. He was extremely punctual, polite and efficient and had a very clean car. The receptionist who greeted me in the Day Unit is from India, and I realise that I have not interacted with a Caucasian soul since I left home this morning!

Last week I stood in line at the huge new Oxford Street Primark pay desk with a pile of new, and very inexpensive, clothes for Mia, and observed a range of nationalities taking the money. India, Arabia, Asia, Africa stood side by side at the cash tills. All our builders seem to be from Poland nowadays . My cleaning lady is from Morocco (doing a law degree!), and my Ironing lady from Bulgaria, who can't get work there as an architect, is putting her children through University on the £8 per hour she gets from ironing sheets. This is life in London in 2008. Most popular capital city in the world! I have absolutely no problem with this cacophony of different peoples and find it easy to get on with them all. Most are better behaved than a lot of my indigenous friends. As long as people respect our customs, appreciate our ways and contribute to our coffers I, personally, can't see a problem.

However, whoever it is who has decided to tamper with Christmas has really upset me - the "Winter Holidays" like a humanist funeral - even with a jazz band, lacks, for me, the richness; strength of the ages and spiritual magic that has been handed down through 2000 years of generations in this country and what on earth is wrong with a Ba Ba Black Sheep for heaven's sake?

Talking of magic, pure magic was awaiting me at the Queensway Icebowl at 10am this Tuesday. I took Mia for her first lesson with Bo (Russian!) and she did really well. She has been catapulted into grade 2 with a certificate and badge to boot having learned the fundamentals of skating backwards (tremulously) and propelling herself for 18" on one leg. Chris had come with us and took off at once showing off like mad - mind you I caught him taking 3 tumbles on camera later! I put my skates on and stood on the ice for 3 secs before taking them straight off again. The combination of the uncut new ice first thing in the morning; not very sharp skates; lost confidence and wobbly legs put me off, and I decided it was not worth risking a broken leg and returned to watch from the comfortable cafe alongside the rink with a hot chocolate.

My heart filled with joy to watch Mia's pink excited face attempting to copy the older, more experienced 12 year old skaters' twists, turns and spins after her lesson. Every so often some romantic music would come on, coloured lights and lasers flashed and washed the scene with pink, blue, golden, green colours, and the skaters took their partners and danced together gliding and swirling round the rink, apparently effortlessly, in perfect rythym and balance. I watched, with lover's eyes, something that I would almost give my right arm to be able to do. To use my body in a swirl of coloured lights and music like that would be utter bliss, and my idea of heaven would be to spend the space between this lifetime and the next, dancing on skates and singing harmonies in union in a haze of colour in the arms of a soul mate like Russell! What am I like?!!!! No I'm not on drugs!

More magic spring moments appeared on the walk right across Hyde Park from Queensway to Piccadilly, as with frozen ears, I decided I shall happily ferry Mia to her classes and watch her do it all for me by proxy!

I am now very friendly with my neighbours in the green chairs and Peter, the man from Cyprus, is now pointing out a picture in the Daily Express of a hearse that has been clamped and wears a blue Denver Boot! Marvellous - NOT! and I discuss the nightmare scenario that exists in daily life for the motorist in London with him and Flora. I look around the room. No one looks very ill.

An English couple have sat down in the next chair, but don't look as interesting as the Italians they replaced. It is obviously the lady's first chemo session as I have just heard the nurse explaining about the tingly feeling you get in your bottom from the Epirubicon red cocktail, and she is showing her how to put on the cold cap on her still full head of blonde hair. I feel suddenly like an old pro!

There are a lot of visitors accompanying the patients today. I can see a son with a mother; husbands or partners with wives. A few of us are on our own. There is a strong looking woman with a completely bald head and huge silver hooped earings looking round the room and holding a plastic cup of liquid against her cheek. We exchange resigned smiles. Others are sleeping or reading. There is a cheerful buzz of conversation in the yellow walled room. We are bonded by our condition, and tied together with understanding, sympathy and cups of tea as the smiling nurses flit about amongst us.

My Philippino nurse has just been to make me a pot of tea on a tray and brought it with a cheese and pickle sandwich because she couldn't find the tea lady for me. As Peter on my left said earlier, "it feels like home here"!

I have made acquaintance with the new couple on my right. They are not English (of course!) but American and, in fact, very nice. I have introduced them to Peter and Flora on the left and we have given the newcomer some positive encouragement. I was given three chocolates (Belgian) when they left which was a delicious treat. The bald headed lady has just put on a medium length light brown wig with a fringe and has waved goodbye to us all. The chairs on either side of me are empty now but it's time to go home.

The bus driver on the 211 en route to Fulham was Jamaican!

2008-01-26T23:12:00.000Z

I got back from Mallorca on Tuesday after a peaceful week's stay with Chris and Lisa at the villa. We went for the Sant Antoni and San Sebastia's Firework Fiestas which are amazing and leave our own 'Guy Fawkes Night' standing in the cold. Apparently the arrival by boat of Sant Sebastia's earthly remains banished a deadly plague from the Island for good and so each year they celebrate by burning effigy's of the demons that once beset them on a huge bonfire on every street corner, and setting off fireworks in the local squares where barbeques blaze in every other doorway. The atmosphere was primitively dramatic with showers of sparks from the windswept bonfires; kettle drums; heavenly music and devils dancing in and out of streaming curtains of golden rain. Whirling dervishes on bicycles waved giant Catherine wheels into the crowd. It is fairly easy to get set on fire at this event as Chris's jacket did last year, so we watched the climax of the evening from the balcony of a friend's restaurant till nearly 2am.

The following day just a pile of dusty embers marked the place where the main fire had been. I'm ashamed to say we were all to tired to get up and see the blessing of the animals ceremony which I now regret. We also missed the rather phallic greasy pole contest in which the young boys of the village vie to be the one who gets to the top first!

Once up I went for a walk in the peaceful and deserted Cala streets and found a nearby field full of very friendly animals - goats sheep and pigs all getting on together and who seemed to have been missed by San Antoni (patron Saint - particularly of pigs!) in the casting out devils department and seemed to be doing a bit of blessing themselves!!!

A week without the telly or internet access was a blissful change. Fresh air, good food, walks, 10 hour sleeps and a good book were the order of the day and did me a power of good.

The Marsden is up and running as per usual thank goodness. On Friday I had my fourteenth Herceptin treatment there - three weeks to the day since the fire. It was practically deserted because a lot of people postponed their treatments to a few days later. I got a shot of the damaged roof from the stairs of the main building which is mercifully unscathed.

The week's holiday was preceded by two memorable events. Firstly, a trip to see the Spice Girls - a gift from Father Christmas for Mia organised by my daughter Aimi, whom, I suspect, is a secret fan herself from the look of excitement on her face as we plunged through London on the Jubilee line to the vast 02 (ex Dome) auditorium where we had a meal, and then took our places for the show. After an hour and a half of 25-30 year old girls and a few gay men screaming, flashing lights and spectacular stage effects, we staggered out to get the Jubilee line home again - my hearing, which is not that good nowadays, completely gone - not to return for about 24 hours.

Secondly, a trip to one of this country's finest restaurants - The Fat Duck at Maidenhead
This outing was a treat given by one of my oldest friends Kerry or 'kind uncle' as he is affectionately nicknamed. He took five of us. Another oldest friend, Annie, and her husband Paul de la Grange, me and Bernice - Kerry's second ex wife. We drove through the most appalling stormy weather conditions to the small and unassuming restaurant. Having needed to reserve the table at Bray five months earlier and payment in full in advance, postponing the event was not an option.

The Fat Duck holds the coverted 3 Star Michelin rating - one of only three held in the entire country, the others being Gordon Ramsay's in Royal Hospital Road, London and The Waterside Inn also in Bray.

The menu was extraordinary. Snail porridge and scallops with white chocolate with caviar were on offer as were snails in chocolate, black pudding with spiced pigeon juices and scrambled egg and bacon ice cream . I played it safe and ordered a lamb cutlet, but the others were more adventurous.

This is my starter, main course and pudding (l to r above).We had about 3 very attentive waiters per table and intercourse tasters such as soup, venison juice and a miniature ice cream cone arrived from time to time.

Kerry paid the bill cheerfully in spite of this face and I drove us home .

(I'm very useful for that Russell!)

At £200 per head, the more I look at Mia's efforts in the kitchen, the more I am definitely determined to encourage her!

Merry Christmas - 2008!!!

2008-01-13T02:04:00.000Z

May I be the first to wish you a very happy Christmas 2008! No I haven't completely lost the plot! I just didn't get everything done this year. So I've decided to save the stress I go through to create my own Christmas card when others are clamouring for me to do theirs, and this will be next Christmas's offering. As usual this picture practically took itself. I was using Mia as a daylight model before a session with the triplets, and keeping it simple as I can't manage the studio lights yet, and this shot was the result! She is an absolute ace at posing for photos and never fails to come up trumps for me. She is beginning to take great photographs herself too.

Not much to report healthwise. I am still making good progress
but my arms and hands and shoulder still trouble me. The tendons have been affected by the drug treatments.

Jenny brought her new puppy along to the session. His name is D'Artagnan or D'Arty for short and he is a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel and was a Christmas surprise for the children.

Apart from the Marsden Hospital nearly burning to the ground, it has been a great start to the new year . Apparently the planet Pluto has left Saggitarius and us Saggi's are all feeling lighter and less burdened. I certainly feel that way and am looking forward to the year ahead with a fair amount of excitement and anticipation.

For starters, Robert Sellers' two page article in the Sunday Times http://entertainment.timesonline.co.uk/tol/arts_an d_entertainment/film/article3099637.ece
on our book The Battle For Bond has created a great deal of interest, and Bruce, the publisher at Tomahawk is handling several enquiries as to rights for documentaries and film which is most exciting.

We made our annual family visit to Somerset House Ice Rink the day after Boxing day, and this year I watched from the wings again. Not strong enough to skate yet but hopefully I will be next year. It was wonderful to watching Aimi & Co whirl round in a maze of coloured lights which glowed under and over the ice in time to beautiful music. This time we went at dusk and flaming torches added to the romantic atmosphere. I caught this picture of reflections in the ice and thought how very lucky I am to have my girls and a wonderful son in law in Massimo and what beauty can be found all around us if one can just "still the anxious mind" and live in the moment.

'A single moment can flood your whole life with meaning' wrote J P Satre. A single decision taken 34 years ago with the help of a very precious friend has brought meaning, purpose and a sense of belonging to my life in the shape of my daughter Aimi and my darling grandaughter Mia and I count my blessings for them every single day.

The day after Boxing Day Mia and I drove to Kenilworth to stay with Christopher and Lisa for a couple of days. They are happily settled in their cosy barn and it was their first Christmas together since they got married. I took Chris a "beware of the Goat" plaque (private joke!) and a tool kit that you keep in a book on a shelf and a pair of heated slippers for Lisa, and they gave me a wonderful new Owl for the garden and a beautiful necklace and matching ring.

The first night Mia woke up with night fears and it took me till 2.30am to calm her down. I finally got her to sleep by pretending that the two trees outside the skylight were her Mummy and Daddy watching over her and waving. The long dark journey and news of flooding had filled her head with worrying thoughts of being cut off and unable to get home. She was perfectly ok the next day and we all had a happy time doing nothing much but enjoying each other's company and some good food and walks.

See pix below of Chris taking Lisa's boots off and his new Christmas helicopter shortly before it crashed!

"Residents of picturesque Kenilworth in Warwickshire are breathing huge sighs of relief now that the “S” has been restored to the digital speed warning sign that stands on approach to the town. It now reads TOO FAST instead of TOO FA T. “Not the sort of thing one really wants to be reminded of just after Christmas!”, said local resident Christopher Blomfield of Red Lane Burton Green"

(copyright sylvan mason)

When we got back, Mia spent several days of her holiday with me and has taken up cooking - big time. Here are some of her latest creations which she concocts without the conventional use of a recipe (!) and for which I have the somewhat dubious and potentially dangerous honour of being the principal taster!

Here are some samples A. Penne Surprise (french beans inserted in pasta tubes)

B. Banana and yoghurt pudding with sultanas.

C. Sultana and dark brown sugar cake.

I can recommend the Banana pudding! However, I should pass on the cake - you could probably knock a man off a horse with it!

Disaster strikes

2008-01-03T12:55:00.001Z

I sat with Christopher, my daughter and granddaughter yesterday afternoon in front of the tv screen, in silence, and close to tears, as we watched the horrendous fire attempting to engulf the Royal Marsden in flames and threatening to burn it to the ground. Little Mia put her arm round me and her head close to mine as we watched the heroics of the amazing staff and teams of firefighters who were surely risking their lives to save this precious, precious place where anyone fighting cancer will feel loved, supported, special and safe and for the majority of us, it is free.

Miraculously, all six of the patients in intensive care were carefully and safely transported to a neighboring hospital safely. Amazingly two operations in progress were halted midstream (doesn't bear contemplating for too long) and the patients stabilised and moved to a place of safety.

Everyone else who was fairly mobile or in for day patient treatment carried on, it seems, cheerfully in the way we all do with our cups of tea, until it was time to move to the local church. The nurses who I have always referred to as ‘Angels from Heaven’ didn’t even stop to put their own coats on in the 3 degree freezing weather. The firemen could be seen on precarious and crumbling ledges taking their chances to strenuously beat back the flames. There was no panic, no screaming. Everyone in this amazing building was saved quietly; courageously and with dignity, and not a single complaint or winge voiced.

Thank God this morning, though too early to say for sure, it seems that the main part of the building will be operational in a day or two. The biggest problem will be for anyone facing surgery but, knowing the care that is always given to the patients, with their very best interests (and nothing to do with money) at heart, I feel confident that this problem will be tackled swiftly, and operating theaters found elsewhere very soon, so that patients can be given the same care with the same surgeons and anesthetists but in a different operating theater to the Marsden perhaps.

But why oh why is it not front page news on every paper? Why do salacious articles about Macca’s divorce or the latest gossip on newly sprung “celebrities” dominate over this tale of triumph over disaster? Why do tales of human bravery, human courage, human kindness, human spirit, and the wisdom and immaculate organisation of the super-professional staff at the Marsden, (not to mention the fire brigade) and the fighting spirit of the British at their best, NOT dominate the headlines?

We don't yet know how the fire started but the usual 'work going on on the roof' as it was at Windsor Castle a few years ago may give a clue!

Hopefully the sheer excellence, altruism, professionalism and genuine care of the management and staff and of all others concerned in the management of the Royal Marsden will be brought more into focus now and funds quickly accumulated to make it the even more magnificent "jewel in our crown" than ever before.

Time to Eat, Drink and Re-Marry!

2007-12-23T23:49:00.001Z

Its the night before the night before Christmas Day. It'll soon be all over. Why am I never ready on time? As usual there are dozens more things to do tomorrow than I can fit in the day and I'm exhausted before it all begins!

Having said that, I do love the run up to Christmas. The glitter, excitement and warm fuzzy feelings towards family and friends.

I have not had the time or energy to write for a while, but to anyone who is concerned, I am doing fine. Cheerful again, and getting better every day. It has taken a while to get over the havoc the hormones created - my muscles are still very stiff and achy and I have trigger thumbs, but I am told this will disappear in time and I should be able to get back to work eventually without having to ask my son in law to change films for me and having to lie down for two days after I do!

It's so good to look back to this time last year when I was in the middle of chemo. I practically had to be propped up at the Christmas Dinner table with weepy eyes and feeling like a bag of cement.

We are all off to Mass's mum's as we take it in turns each year.

Here I am with my darling Auntie Amy - 6 months away from her telegram from the Queen! Last year I wasn't well enough to attend her carol service at St Luke's - the old people's home, where she lives, but today just got there in time in spite of the thick fog most of the way to Oxford.
I rushed in and found a seat waiting for me next to Amy. Her blue eyes lit up when she saw me, and, after engulfing her in a huge hug and returning the dental plate with several teeth on it to its owner in the next seat, I sat down and joined in the carols with gusto. Whenever I think I'm getting old I remind myself that Auntie Amy is 35 years older than me and happier than when she was 18. She is cheerful, grateful and never complains and everyone adores her.

There have been three new diagnosis of breast cancer in my immediate circle. Anyone who is brave enough to look at my early writings - you have to go back to earlier posts as this journal runs backwards. may find it helpful. There's no need to be afraid to look, and I hope you will find my journey comforting and the great experience that I have. Apart from the 10 day terror at the beginning when I was diagnosed, I have found a way through it all with love and support from all sorts of directions.

Wintershall Nativity was as magical as ever. The tiny foundling baby who was born in prison, about 6 weeks ago, was wrapped in swaddling clothes this year - unlike last year when the baby wore a white Mothercare all in one with a hood!

Below are photos of Mia's dancing school production - as an orphan in Little Annie. With the Bishop of London at her confirmation and Ruth and co skating at Kew Gardens.

Not going to say much more or I will be even later for Christmas. Just want to wish you a wonderful time - Spread as much love around as you can . Eat, Drink and Re-marry! I leave you with a few pics which have accumulated since last writing . Happy Christmas and God bless all.

The Quest

2007-11-11T13:23:00.000Z

"And this is my quest, to follow that star, no matter how hopeless, no matter how far".

“The Quest is to be who we are with all our madness”.

My ‘quest’ as a young girl was to simply appear normal to others. My background though privileged was not what I perceived as normal due to my naive expectations that it should be. On the surface, I'm sure my life appeared enviable to others, but below the surface lay the dragons that had to be hidden. My parents’ alcoholism, my feeling of inadequacy and worthlessness and my great fear of people; their expectations and their view of me. I lived in a state of self-centered fear and anxiety which for several years I medicated with alcohol and pills

Along the way, most of the dragons have been confronted. Along the way I shed most of the feelings of inadequacy when I shed the notion of a punishing God. It is not a virtue any more to beat myself up for not being perfect or even ‘good’. I don’t any more believe whatever Higher Power is up there or in us all, cares whether I am ‘good’ or not though I do believe that I shall take from the Universe exactly what I put in and that I am expected to 'try' and to do my best. I am still capable of feeling guilty about my actions but now I just observe the feeling, take what action is necessary - or not, and don’t wallow in the bog. In fact my life has improved enormously since I gave up guilt and there seems to have been no 'punishment' for doing so.

Along the way I learn’t that “MY FEELINGS ARE VALID” This was a big key to self acceptance. I learned that if I say I like blue and you say you prefer green, that doesn’t mean that my love of blue is wrong! It doesn’t mean that you probably have a degree in colour and what do I know about it anyway as I never went to university and only got 5 “O” levels. It means that we each like different colours and that is VALID – not right or wrong.

I have come to learn to change the negative voices in my head into positive’s. The ”what if the lab ruins my film” or “what if I’ve done a bad job and I have to face my clients having failed them” thoughts on the way to the lab are swiftly and now automatically – through long practice - changed to “Expect good things, Sylvan” and “Everything is a gift, a lesson or a test” therefore everything that happens to me is useful.

Along the way, I have learned to say "I'm sorry"; "I have made a mistake", and, "I don't know how to do this".

This saying is on my computer and is a truth for me. “Uncomfortable thoughts make uncomfortable feelings. Change the Thought”. That’s all I have to do. When I am in emotional pain it is because I have a negative thought or belief going on. A thought that causes pain is not the truth. When I change the painful thought “I’m not good enough” to “I am enough, I have enough, I do enough, I don’t have to be perfect or good - and neither does anyone else” the pain goes away.

That doesn’t mean to say I don’t get scared sometimes, and it’s very, very hard to be positive when you are feeling ill.

I have, in fact, just come out of quite a down period caused mainly by a bad reaction to the side effects from the hormone treatment that the Marsden, in their greatly appreciated wisdom, wanted me to continue with, and I have decided, in the interests of quality of life to discontinue it. I certainly don’t recommend that everyone follows my example and, if my prognosis for lack of return was not so good, I would not contemplate it, but 3 months of Arimidex caused me tendon stiffness and turned me into a semi-invalid. I then changed to Tamoxifan and a month later the hormones and menopausal symptoms upset my mental balance and had made me quite depressed. I returned to the Doctor and asked them to once again punch my statistics into the computer and tell me what the results would be if I didn’t take this stuff for the next five years. They came up with a 1.7% difference in the outcome ( in my case) which (for me) is not enough to risk my cheerfulness and love of life so I’ve stopped taking it. In addition, (I speak only for myself, again), I am still receiving the Herceptin drip every three weeks till next March which adds a 50% risk of non return to the statistics and that makes more sense and apart from being slightly more tired, does not cause any other side effects.

I recently learnt a new technique at the Haven Breast Cancer Clinic who give wonderful support to people going through the crisis of this illness. First I have to name my fear. One one occasion as I was commencing chemotherapy, it was, naturally, the thought of losing my hair. Gosia taught me to say out loud. “Even if I lose every hair on my head and I wake up in the morning to find the whole lot on my pillow, I love and accept myself and I AM LOOKING FORWARD TO IT". (Almost impossible to say this but once uttered a change takes place) and then, followed by “Even though I don’t lose a single hair on my head and it stays healthy and thick, I love and accept myself and I AM LOOKING FORWARD TO IT". This is such a powerfully transforming thought process. But you have to say it out loud. Try it with your worst fears and see what happens. After I had done this exercise I was surprised with the realization that I would almost miss the experience of losing my hair if it didn’t fall out. As it happened I lost most of it except my fringe, and it never bothered me at all. In actual fact I enjoyed being able to create my little hats which I wore happily.

A therapist once told me how amused she was that I kept asking her what was normal behavior. She said most of her clients were trying to be different!

I have come to learn along the way that there is no 'normal'. If anything, dysfunctional is ‘normal’. We live in chaos and it is a miracle that we survive it all. It is a great privilege just to be here.

I am part angel, part beast - just like everyone else. I am a spiritual being having a human experience. The human experience is hard for a spiritual being but if I soldier on and am able to be honest and open I will be shaped into the person I was meant to be by my life’s experiences - good and especially the (seemingly) bad.

I have had quite a bit of ‘shaping’ already!

I like this saying: “ Success is the ability to be comfortable with those around me and to want what I have”.

My quest nowadays is to be comfortable with who I am, with all my madness, and to be comfortable with and love others with all theirs, and to be content with what I have.

I have still a long way to go, but I certainly have come a long way too.

This months happy moments include:

The news that Barry George’s innocence is to be re-evalued. Nobody in Fulham believes that he killed Jill Dando including his ex-wife. My own theory is that Jill was expecting someone for lunch, as she had bought two Dover Soles at 10am that morning in the King Street Mall. As she was due to go out for supper with her fiancee that night, it seems likely that the fish was to be consumed at lunchtime and unlikely that she would put that expensive fish in the fridge or freezer for the next day? Perhaps her lunch companion sent someone else in his or her place with a gun that had a special bullet that didn’t make too much noise. It certainly wasn’t Barry George. Anyway, I do hope he is released soon and compensated well for a terrible injustice.

Halloween - Trick or Treating with Mia, Isadora and Imogene and joined by local (on the beat again thank God) police.

Chris and Lis’s wedding was fabulous. They were driven from the ceremony in Chris's father's old Rolls 20 which had been bought by Tony Porter a few years ago in a run down state and restored to concours condition. Tony and his wife Iris very kindly lent and drove it for the day. Mia and Page made beautiful bridesmaids. Lisa looked radiant and the whole event was a tasteful and happy occasion.

Chris's best man Jerry made a hysterically funny speech; the food was superb and (watch out Russell) I caught the bouquet - or rather Lisa threw it to me!!!! (for more photos go to www.sylanmason.com and click on yellow winking sun)

Claire's new arrival - little Olly. Claire Nicholls is the most brilliant refexologist and works on my feet about once a fortnight. She is a natural healer and amazingly intuitive and I'm quite sure has helped me get through the chemo as well as I did. Now that Olly is here, she has been working on my feet with him in a sling, but last time he was too big so Mia held him which was a great thrill for her. If you want the best reflexologist in town phone her on 07985 077 227.

Mia's home made biscuits. Mia is becoming a great cook and had progressed amazingly from her mud pie with tea bags and all my herbs and anything else in the cupboard concoctions when she was three to some very tasty and creative bickies. She still does not follow a recipe so they are different (and improving!) every time. Pictured is her latest offering.

Kiny & Co We had a delicious lunch with Kiny, Nick, Isobella and Marina in their work in progress house in Hurley followed by a trip to the Les Lions Polo Farm which is managed by Nick. Mia and Isobella rode the two tiny Shetland Ponies and I took pictures of the amazing tack room full of Stirrups and Saddles, Boots and Stick and Hats neatly arranged round the walls.

Weekend with Annie & Paul in Gloucestershire. Wonderful weather, walks and food in my oldest friend Annie's beautiful new home. I had the most exciting bath I have ever had (on my own that is) in her new bathroom which is stunning with its blue LED lights and candles. I was so relaxed I forgot to take a picture of it but will next time. I also enjoyed playing football with Pickles the corgi who fetches, fields and dribbles the ball just like a real player. And I just had to take a picture of Sunday lunch. I think I gained about 4 lbs in two days as the food was so good but it was worth it. Old friend Kerry and I drove down in my lovely Noddy car. He is quite immobile having broken all the bones and tendons in his foot "coming out of Annabelle's" hmnnnn!!! and is getting about on a sort of zimmer frame scooter.

This brings me to the end so I'll leave you with this sign spotted in Marsham on the way home (tou b)

Love and Happiness

2007-10-01T22:53:00.000Z

“You will always have a lucky star
That shines because of what you are

Even in the deepest dark - because your aim is true

“And-if-I-could only have one wish,
Darlin’ then it would be this
Love and Happiness ….For you”

Love and Happiness – and sunshine!

That’s what we all want no matter who, where, what, we are.

It’s cold and wintry in London. A lot of people are feeling down. We haven’t had enough warm for it to get cold again.

I like many others I know around me have been feeling a bit glum this month. I don’t really know why. The aches and pains have improved. The tooth extraction has healed. The mortgage is covered this month and we are all relatively healthy, but the hole in the soul is there nevertheless and I am riding it and hoping it will go away soon. . Perhaps the wintry weather came too soon after a disappointing summer – the worst on record

The shock of returning to the cut and thrust of London life after an idyllic two and half weeks in gentle and beautiful Mallorca has something to do with it. The lack of a project or something to look forward to is another factor. Perhaps the change in my hormones is contributing. The fact that I am not grateful enough for everything I have is certain. I am also not “giving what I wish to receive” which is a most brilliant piece of wisdom. Trouble is I am not sure what I wish to receive. Anyway, I must allow the fallow field to mature and eventually put forth its fresh creation. In the meantime I can cheer myself with some love and happiness in my life recently.

I want to introduce you to my Owls. I have been collecting owls for a few years now. Night birds with large eyes; fragile and strong, and supposedly wise. I feel an infinity with owls. My father used to call me his “little wise owl” when, at the ripe old age of 18, I sat up counselling him on the state of his marriage to my mother till the wee hours as he worked his way through yet another gin and tonic and Charlie, our budgerigar, ran down his arm to sip from the glass and stagger back up to his shoulder again!

There have been three newcomers this month. The Mosaic one on the left is from Aimi and Mass who found it in the Pollensa market in Mallorca. The glass one on the right is from Mary Morris who brought it back from Italy, and the central wax candle owl is from Penny Tham who brought him back from France. She says the hair style wick reminded her of my new hairstyle!!! They will be added to my growing collection of owls who bring a smile on a day like this.

Mia is approaching her teenage years at gathering speed!

Her new fun thing to do after school is to dress up in my clothes and wigs (never worn) and pretend to be a model.

Avril and I had hysterics when Winston found himself kitted out in my blonde wig and sunglasses by Mia and her friend Issy whilst trying to sort out my laptop. These two young ladies dressed up in my clothes are 8 year olds – heaven help us in a couple of year’s time!!

In spite of the grey clouds, some good things have happened this month which I am grateful for:

Kathryn Johnson at British Library has found “Ill Wind” the manuscript of the play my father wrote about his war years spent defending Iceland which was broadcast by the BBC in 1946 and toured England with the “White Rose Players”. She will have it copied for me so that I can read it for the first time and let Arni, my recent Icelandic visitor have a copy.

John Cork, who makes all the pre film documentaries on the Bond films, has asked me for a picture of Dad for the new Special edition Casino Royale DVD due out in January. This will be the first time that Dad has been officially recognised by Eon.

I took my childhood Doctor Lytle now 87 years old out for lunch last week. It was wonderful to see him again after about 50 years. He was one of my life’s “Good Warriors” as the Native American Indians say, and we reminisced all afternoon about life in Oxshott in the 50’s and all the things that happened to my family and his, and others in the village. I have vivid memories of seeing him at his surgery where his beloved long haired Dachshund would always be lying by a cosy gas fire. John would prescribe medicine and advice along with a funny story or joke before one left always feeling better for seeing him. Or he would stride into the sickroom at home with his black Doctors bag and reassuring smile, sit on the bed and make you stick your tongue out and you knew everything was going to be alright. They don’t make them like that anymore – sadly they don’t seem to have enough time for 'Bedside Manner' nowadays .

After a good lunch at the Fairmile in Cobham I went back to his home for tea and he asked me to select a book from his bookcase to keep. I chose “The Moon is a Balloon” by David Niven which I have read in the past but don’t have a copy of, and I gave him "The Battle for Bond".

On Thursday I spent the afternoon with Caroline Hollinrake choosing pictures of her and her little Arabella. Gave her a Battle for Bond book to give to her boss Eamonn Holmes as he is a Bond fanatic and received a sweet note and two of his books and a signed note back the next day. Have started his biography and am enjoying it immensely. He is a fellow Sagittarian and I recognise his Jupiter personality and jovial good humour.

On Monday 24^th Robert Sellers who wrote Battle for Bond and Graham Rye – 007 Forever magazine editor came over and took me out for supper and we had a fun evening telling Bond anecdotes till the early hours.

On Wednesday 26^th

I went to a lunch held for the Rainbow Trust - a wonderful charity for children who are terminally ill, and had the great pleasure of meeting Julie Harris – costume designer extraordinaire – now a very glamorous 83 year old. Julie designed costumes for the first Casino Royale with Peter Sellers and for the first Roger Moore Bond “Live and Let Die”. She has also dressed dozens of other very well known films and won the Oscar for “Darling” with Julie Christie.

And my darling Aimi had an ah-ha hem birthday!!!

Now Christmas is hurtling towards us once more. Aimi
has booked us all to go and see the Wintershall Nativity again and we are busy deciding whose house to be in for Christmas Dinner.

Love and Happiness.....to you

"The falling leaves drift by the window………

2007-09-15T21:45:00.000Z

The autumn leaves of red and gold........."

5th September 2007

It is the end of the summer and winter is on the way.

The utter kindness of the staff at the Marsden brings me very close to tears. I am feeling vulnerable this morning and I am 45 minutes late for my mammogram (well, half mammogram!) and have also forgotten to bring my blue hospital appointment card!

My apologies and excuses for these misdemeanors due to nervousness about being here, and the London traffic game of snakes and ladders regarding parking; congestion charge; finding a meter; having enough change for a meter; trying to dodge a ticket whilst you are buying a Daily Mail in order to get change for the meter, have just been waved aside by a warm receptionist with a kind smile and an “Oh don’t worry, dear”.

I settle into the charming newly decorated calm blue waiting room with fresh green plants for only two minutes before being collected by a smiling angel called Rosa who whisks me through to her Mammogram X ray room, and, having manoeuvred me into precise position like a ballerina at the bar, squashes flat my remaining boob and X-rays it while I chatter on nervously about why I am nervous and what I plan to do if they find anything. The plan would be to immediately ‘have it off’ (the other boob Russell!) and go for a double reconstruction, which I keep being told can produce boobs better than your original ones – though, may I say without modesty that in my case that would be quite hard to do!

Rosa, I know, is not allowed to tell me much, but from what I got out of her psychically, I’m pretty sure, fingers crossed, that there is nothing to be concerned about and I shall have my results on Friday when I go for my next Herceptin drip and see the doctor.

I am now free to go home and still feel a bit tearful – trying to work out what I’m feeling, I find there are so many different emotions stored up. A year ago, the axe came down and I sat in this same blue oasis in terror and shock. I dare not, not be worried this time! What a year it has been. What sort of a year lies ahead? In spite of my emotions I feel intuitively, that it is going to be a good one.

Rosa and her young man are into holistic healing and have a very good website – why not check it out on www.thestarbody.com

September 15th 2007

I am feeling battered. After a battery of tests and needles this week plus an aching tooth, I am not my usual cheerful self. In addition to the Mammogram, I have been injected with radioactive fluid so that my heart action could be assessed by a huge scanning machine, I have had my 3 weekly Herceptin drip and I have had two teeth removed at the dentist – one of which he could not numb completely to make way for the bridge that is being prepared and which will rest on two titanium implants that were put in 6 weeks ago. Neither tooth was suitable to carry the bridge.

Thankfully, all the results of the tests were clear when I saw the Oncologist on Wednesday. I also told her that I couldn’t face the thought of going back on the Arimidex with the resulting muscle aches and pains which were seizing me up and she has switched me to another drug called Tamoxifen. She spent a good hour explaining the different way each drug works. The Arimidex kills any oestrogen hormone that the body is manufacturing so that if by any chance I had a cancer cell still in my body it couldn’t feed on oestrogen and grow. The Tamoxifen which I have switched to has a slightly different approach in that it blocks the receptor pockets on a cancer cell and prevents oestrogen from entering the cell to feed it. Both have very good results and more than halve the 20% risk of cancer returning, but I would definately rather be blocking the hormones I am making in my body than killing off what would appear to be a natural process, so I will report back on Tamoxifen and any side effects in a couple of weeks. I can expect hot flashes which will hopefully wear off in time.

Something rather interesting took place at the Boot Inn, though, in the midst of this post holiday, anti-climactic week.

An Icelandic family consisting of Árni Daníel Júlíusson and his two attractive teenage children Ari and Maria, came to stay and took two of my rooms. Over breakfast one morning as I was making Arni his coffee and light conversation, I mentioned that my father had been in Iceland during WW2. He was there to defend Iceland from the Germans who might have used it as a strategic launching pad, however, apart from the odd air raid, no serious attempt was made and the troups had rather an easy war and had to find ways to amuse themselves when they were not digging bunkers (in case). Apart from editing a newspaper called the Iceland Times for the men and a large intake of alcohol, it seems, my father enjoyed the company of a young Icelandic girl called Asta. He had kept all the love letters she wrote him and they were sweet and charming and full of funny gramatical errors and of great interest to Arni Juliusson, because of the descriptions of those times which apparently there is very little record of in Iceland.

He asked if he could copy them and take them home with him and I of course agreed. He also said that he would be able to find Asta as the population of Iceland is only 300,000 and there was a database of everyone on the Island. Also Asta lived in a very small village quite near to his home. He said he would call his wife and see what she could find out. It was very exciting and I was all set to fly immediately to Iceland and embrace this elderly lady who had known my father so well, but very sadly Arni came home with the news that his wife had indeed tracked Asta down, but she had died last year in her nineties and had gone blind in her latter years. I suddenly felt very sad. Silly because this old lady had mean't nothing to me the day before, but suddenly, with the chance of finding her, she became real and I felt a sense of loss for a day or two.

Arni who appeared to be the straightest, and most respectable man you could meet later informed me that he had been a punk rocker in the 80's and has sent me pictures of himself in one of his bands. There is never a dull moment at the Boot Inn and you never know who you are going to meet next. He is pictured on the far right in stripes!

All Shall Be Well, and All Shall Be Well, and All Manner of Things Shall Be Well! (Julian of Norwich)

2007-09-07T22:52:00.000Z

A wispy breeze moves the pink sprays of bougainvillea that now proliferate up one side and along the top of the terrace.

The dainty flowers of a pale blue Plumbago dance gently.

There is a faint tinkling from the owl chimes – a present for Chris and Lisa, now hanging from the branch of an olive tree that stands by the pool here in Cala St Vincenc.

In front of me on the small white terrace table lies a blue bowl of diced pears and black grapes in yoghurt with a desert spoonful of flaxseed (an omega 3 must), a glass of water, various pills – mostly vitamins - and a mug of Earl Grey tea.

The doctor has allowed me to take a two week break from the punishing Arimidex tablet and my muscles have eased up again. The surface of the azure blue pool is rippling and awaits my body when I am too hot from lying in the sun.

I have no plans for the last two days of my holiday. I am alone - I am in bliss!!. All is well, All is peaceful and still - bar the twittering of sparrows in the distance on this perfect 1^st of September day in Mallorca.

Aimi and co left yesterday as there is organising to do for Mia´s forthcoming school term and, I have another two days in which to luxuriate and relax after a fun, friends and family filled fortnight.

Cousin Christopher has again, most generously lent us the villa in this charming and pretty village.

I am so relishing my freedom and lack of pressure. This early evening, when the sun is at its best light (after 5pm and before 10am is always the best light, by the way, if you are into photography) I plan to venture forth to the sound of my own flip flops to capture the beauty that surrounds me without a “Come on Mama” from Mia or a “Hurry Up Mum” from Aimi. When the sun has gone I may slip into the local Karaoke bar and sing a couple of songs to my hearts content where I can be anonymous. I suddenly hear the strains of “It´s just a Perfect Day……… !"

We had a fun family last day together yesterday. Swimming in the morning, paella lunch at the Alba restaurant on the beach, followed by a session of mini-golf - complete with helpful white cat, and 10 day tattoos for the children (and for me!!)

And I am now sporting a dragonfly on my right shoulder blade (They didn´t have a boot, Russell!).

Home for supper and a vicious game of Hearts accompanied by several words that the children were not mean´t to hear from Massimo and myself.

Then a walk down to the village for a last drink where at last I got to sing “The Rose” in the Trotters karaoke bar whilst the others hid in embarrassment at the smart and trendy Art Café across the road.

The highlight of the trip was the 'Leapy Lee Flying Curry Circus'
experience at the Son Boronat Farmhouse on Tuesday night.

Son Boronat is a romantic, rustic and crumbling old farmhouse down a long windy bumpy lane in Calvia just north of Palma and is an unique, not to be missed experience, if you are visiting Mallorca. www.sonboronat.com info@sonboronat.com;

After drinks at twighlight in the flag stoned courtyard and a warm welcome from dearest old friend and Aimi´s Godfather, Leapy Lee Graham, we were ushered into the candlelit dining room which housed a gigantic old wooden olive press . The delicious scent of lilies or jasmine and old wood and candles filled the air and one of Spain´s most talented guitarists was gently playing ‘Rodrigo’ in the corner.

The three large bowls of curry of varying strengths were laid out on a long table on top of burners and had been lovingly prepared by Leapy himself the previous day. We all filed up to help ourselves. Sliced banana, cucumber and onion dishes sat on our tables and piles of poppadoms were delivered from the kitchen. Even the seven year old in our party commented on how delicious the (mild) curry was and nearly everyone went back for second helpings.

Leapy in his unique and magical way, fussed round us and made each person feel special and welcome. After the meal, he picked up his guitar, and, in terrific form, serenaded us with songs and jokes. We were all encouraged to sing along and accompany him on spoons and glasses or anything else that made a noise which we did with gusto.

After a much too long gap, it was wonderful to see Loretta, his second oldest daughter again, and to meet her family.

It was worth every mile of the drive from the North of the Island to Calvia, and the children played his ’Drift Away’ cd all the way home after a very happy evening.

Frenchie and Amica and the children were here also for a couple of days when we arrived, having rented the villa from Chris the previous two
weeks.

Next, Jenny Lee-Wright Evans, Robin and the triplets arrived to spend a week with us. The triplets are twelve now and three nicer pre-teenagers you couldn´t wish to meet (enjoy it while you may Jen!!!). They have been beautifully brought up and were helpful and delightful guests. I have been photographing them for their Christmas card for 11 Christmases now – ever sincethey were one year old when we propped them up on Jen´s bed with red and green balloons.

In those days when you visited you were handed a baby and a bottle at the front door upon arrival – all hands to the pump with triplets! I took this year´s picture here (below) before they left – and we have decided to do a calendar for Christmas this year with a photo for every month as they grew up from one to twelve.

Chris and Lisa also joined us for four days and we had a barbeque waiting for them when they arrived exhausted from cold and wintry uk.

The TV and Sky arial was hit by lighting during the tropical storms we had in the first couple of days and has killed the TV set, so there has been no Eastenders or News broadcasts for me or cartoons and movies to keep the children occupied.

Have we missed the TV –NO, Have I missed my computer – NO.

A phone call from Naughtiness, who has managed to escape from Fort Knox for an hour, has broken the solitude and put a big smile in my heart, and I´ve just seen a bit of pink bourganvillea hanging from the balcony, beautifully backlit by sunlight against a clear blue sky that I must try and capture, so I´ll be off now – will report back next from cold and clammy London where the dreaded Arimidex waits!!!!

A gift, a lesson or a test?

2007-08-30T15:57:00.000Z

In the firm belief that EVERYTHING in life is either, a Gift, a Lesson or a Test - which makes EVERYTHING positive, I would now like to write about my current "TEST".. Although this is mean't to be an upbeat blog, I'm going to have a little moan first and then focus on the good. I think it's relevant, as my experience is what this blog is about.

I DON"T LIKE ARIMIDEX! Arimidex is the small white pill I am mean't to take for the next five years (4 and a half now) to eliminate the possibility of a return of the cancer in my other boob or elsewhere. I take it along with the Herceptin drip I am given at 3 weekly intervals at the Marsden, which causes fatigue but is only for a tolerable year (now 6 months more) and which I am so grateful to be able to have, at a cost to the National Health of over £100,000 for the Herceptin plus £25,000 for the Arimidex.

There was a one month gap following the chemotherapy when I felt tired but elated that it was over, and was beginning to pick up my energy. Then the Royal Marsden, in it's wisdom and being a 'belt and braces' hospital which, again, I am most grateful for, decided to give me this 5 year sentence.

At first nothing much happened, but, after about a month, during which I had several hot flushes a day and had to keep taking my outer clothes on and off to counter-balance it, (no, not all of them Russell - down boy!) and fanning myself a lot, it started. At first I put the ache in my muscles down to the long red eye flight to Mallorca in May carrying heavy hand luggage but after a few days rest it had not gone and had settled in my knees, shoulders, elbows and fingers, As far as I can gather, and they don't warn you about it, these side effects are caused by the withdrawal of oestrogen from the tendons which hold the joints together. It is designed to rob the body of any oestrogen it might be trying to manufacture, as this hormone is what my particular cancer, and, in fact, 80% of all breast cancers, feed on, and is a growth factor in the body. The pain is not constant but occurs each time I move a joint. As a person who likes to be on the move pretty much all the time this is most inconvenient. It begins as I open my eyes in the morning and reach the usual arm out to switch off the alarm, normally an automatic uneventful event. Now the arm is acompagnied by a tweaking pain. Getting out of bed and standing up now hurts my knees and my fingers feel stiff and achy. Once I am up and moving about, it's not too bad, and certainly, concentrating off it and putting my focus on the day helps. I have managed to creak my way through a couple of weddings this month but what really bothers me is that when I photograph small guests in the shape of children or animals I automatically like to get down to their level as far a possible, which used to be a breeze as I pride myself on being very supple and pretty fit for my age. Now there is doubt about whether I am going to be able to get up again in a dignified way without hanging on to a table, someone's trousers, or needing a friendly hand. The other annoying aspect of the side effects of this drug (which incidentally doesn't affect everyone this way) is the inability to feel really comfortable in bed which has always been such a haven and where I really relax (or on the sofa) as every time I turn over, the joints tweak and it wakes me up to start my pondering on the next 4.5 years of this! Even lying still hurts a bit.

I got really down about it for a while.

I also think it is affecting my head and I feel less sharp than I usually am and more forgetful. However, there are plusses - and on to the plusses - which are 1. It has slowed me down. I no longer earn the "Duracell bunny" nickname by the family for my constant activity and getting up and down at meal times to do things I'd forgotten, as I now have to take things at a much more leisurely pace which has resulted in more time to think and plan things economically. I don't have to rush off the lab every day to collect prints - I can let the work build up and go once or twice a week. 2, There is a greater feeling of calm and I seem to have no fear. Especially to be myself and to be more pro-active in my life.

I don't know if I am going to continue with Arimidex. I think I will give it till Christmas and then ask the Doctor what the statistics would fall to if I did not continue. If it was only a 3 or 4% drop (from 94% I'll be here in ten years that is already predicted) I'm not sure if it is worth all this discomfort. I'm also nervous of the long term effects, the potential bone thinning, and whether these pains will ease off once I discontinue it, or whether the tendons will be permanently damaged. The doctors say not, but it is a relatively new drug and I'm not sure there know a lot about the long term prognosis.

Good news events this month have been:

• Mia's absolutely brilliant school report which has put all mine and her mother's in the shade. She is, we are told, a joy to teach, a good all rounder, and a helpful and popular member of the class. Following this happy news I decided to buy her the guinea pig I had been promising and which had to go on hold last year when I became ill. We set off after school to "explore the possibility' and of course returned with two guinea pigs as the pet shop keeper said that they are very social animals and need company to keep them happy. Mia is of course over the moon and full of promises to feed them every day and muck out the cage twice a week. Hmmm we'll see how long that lasts. She has named them Ossie and Harry and they are very sweet if you are into guinea pigs which I happen to be as `I had three when I was eleven.

My dearest Auntie Amy reach the grand old age of 99 on June 15th and we celebrated with the usual strawberries and cream and a cake in the garden of her Oxfordshire Home.

An invitation to the 80th birthday party and to take photographs of one of the pop music business's favourite people, Tony Hiller producer and manager of Brotherhood of Man and their Eurovision hit "Save all your Kisses for Me"

Tony is an amazing and wonderfully enthusiastic octogenarian who emerged from the East End alongside great friend Vidal Sasson, to lead a fabulous and interesting life of achievement and great success. Along the way he has been a boxer, a street photographer, a music publisher, a songwriter, a pop song producer and manager of Eurovision winners Brotherhood of Man having written the winning song “Save All Your Kisses for Me” and penned “United We Stand” for the Brotherhood of Man, amongst other things. He also has had his own ‘Hiller Brothers’ cabaret act with brother Irving and together they still do gigs in the clubs to this day belting out songs with energy and joy (see picture above right).

The party consisted of many old friends from various genres and a huge warm Hiller family contingent and the feeling in the room was electric with good will and camaraderie. One by one fellow songwriters paid tribute to Tony for his help and encouragement as a music publisher when they were starting out, and then performed the hits he had helped them with. Roger Greenaway recounted an hilarious tale of a night spent in a hotel with Tony after a bad curry, and toasted his charming and devoted wife, Leigh. Songs such as “You’ve Got Your Troubles, I’ve Got Mine” were performed by Messrs Roger Greenaway and the rarely seen but much loved, Roger Cook; Don Black sang Born Free; Tony Hatch sang Downtown and an hilarious new composition written especially for the occasion called “Senior Moments” which had us in stiches and Bruce Welch took us on a “Summer Holiday” and did the Shadows four step movement with a cheeky grin which made everyone laugh. The truly great Les Reed accompanied everybody on the piano, as usual, and then performed two of his greatest hits, "The Last Waltz" and, of course, "Delilah"!!!

The Annual Family excursion to the Blue Elephant courtesy old friend Bill Potts and Mia's coca cola bomb experience!

Trip with Aimi's cat, Tom, to Rosemary Algers' Burmese/Bengal Cattery complete with Koi Carp tank in preparation for our upcoming holiday in Mallorca next week.

The Sun Has Got His Hat On – Hip Hip Hip Hooray……….

2007-07-24T23:15:00.000Z

The sun has finally come out in Nantucket after 3 days of overcast skies. I am sunning myself in the garden of a beautiful wooden, New England, ‘roses round the door’ cottage complete with porch, swing hammock and rocking chair.

The back garden extends without boundaries into the woods where the lawn ends, and a large red deer has just leapt out of the thicket – seen me (topless and one boobless) and done a sharp U-turn and leapt back in, flashing a white furry tail at me.

There are some very beautiful little birds with colours I haven’t seen anywhere before so don’t know what any of them are. Nantucket Island is shaped like a horseshoe - 14 miles long by 4 wide, and is surrounded by a clean white beach which you can see threading like a golden ribbon around the island when you come in to land. The tiny airport is in exact proportion to the 12 seater propeller plane from La Guardia. Several of these aeroplanes fly silently above me appearing about every 10 minutes or so.

This part of the world is right next door to Martha's Vinyard (thanks Marco!) where the young John Kennedy was heading when he went down in his small craft in one of the sudden misty dense fogs that sweep in from nowhere.

There are seals on the beach and the island is famous for Whaling. According to the dictionary, the "'Nantucket Sleigh Ride' was originally the result of harpooning a whale in a rickety boat usually meant to hold no more than 16 people. The boat subsequently was dragged behind the whale by a line running from the harpoon to the ship. The Nantucket Sleighride would continue until the whale died, the line broke, or the ship sank" but I understand there are a couple of very rude meanings too which I would be much too embarassed to print!

This is where summer homes abound for the rich and famous. I haven’t seen any ‘famous’ yet but everyone is rich here – except perhaps for the young people behind shop counters who serve you in an arrogant and quite bad tempered way. Its certainly not a case of “have a nice day” here. More like – “Why are you bothering me, I have no interest whatsoever in helping you, why don’t you go away”. If you ask for the whereabouts of an item more than once, you are likely to get a 'sigh'.

I have been invited here to celebrate the 40^thbirthday of Steven Palm, whose 'Underhills Crossing' restaurant (affectionately know as 'Underpants') is a thriving and successful business in Westchester, New York.

He has rented a compound of houses on the cliff above a private beach for about 30 – 40 of his family, friends and best customers, and seems to be one of the mot generous people you could ever wish to meet as well as being an extremely attractive and personable young man.

Old friend Marc Guild has been staying in the cottage till his wife Dale gets here and Michael's daughter Lainie has just arrived with her exquisitely beautiful 2 year old daughter, Arianna.

Today we are all preparing for Steve's party which takes place at the main house where he is staying with his beautiful fiancée Kerry, her parents and their little Yorkie dog “Tucker”.

We are to gather at 3.30 all dressed in white for a party which sounds most exciting. A dance floor has been laid on the lawn and 85 3lb lobsters are now being prepared for cooking in a huge metal vat. Steve and his main honcho, Felix have driven here in a huge truck filled to the gills with food and beverages. Hunks of spare ribs, Angus steaks, chickens; cases of every spirit and wine and beer – you name it food and drink wise, which has been prepared for us daily at the main house where we are welcome to gather day and night if we wish. As well as a constant supply of food, drinks and nibbles, there are two or three living rooms, each with huge plasma screens, and, while the weather has been bad, I have been resting and watching Wimbledon on one of them from a sofa that is so big and comfortable I disappear into it.

There are baskets of nibbles – crisps, munchy bars, cookies, sweets etc everywhere which I am trying to avoid. A couple of wireless enabled laptops lie around for guests to pick up their emails on.

Music plays from an ipod with speakers on the lawn, overlooking the beach, where there are padded sun loungers in a semi circle for the guests, and recliners and umbrellas waiting for us on the private beach below. There is a poker game on the balcony and a volleyball game alongside the lawn.

I had forgotten how hospitable the American people can be. The spending money that I brought with me is still in £’s in my purse and every time I try to change it I have been stopped and firmly told to put it away.

Now this is the way to recuperate, and I am almost in bliss but, from my own experience, I know that, for me, too much of a good thing for too long eventually leads me to introspection and feelings of lack of purpose plus the lack of the satisfaction that comes from struggle and pitching oneself against the odds. I know I would soon become bored with it all. I don’t know where it comes from but I am most comfortable with struggle and achievement on a daily basis.

I was once given a visualisation excercise in a therapeutic class where I had to imagine myself cutting and clawing my way through a dense thicket to finally reach a beautiful peaceful scented field where I could lie for a while. It was odd to discover that I felt much more comfortable in the thicket than lying in the field. Strange but there you are. Now’t so queer as folk! In the meantime - bring it on!!!

The party was splendid. The white food was delicious (clams on the shell; clam chowder; lobster; coconut ice cream and white chocolate liqueurs) and the sun set on us, and the moon rose above the sea as we partied under the stars in our white clothes with an American cop with patrol car keeping guard.

We could have passed as inmates of an asylum or
a convention of doctors easily!

Two days later brought me back to New York for a quick visit and catch up with dear friends Sherry & Peter Doyle; Cam and the doggies and an evening with Michael's family.

His son Chad and daughter Lainie brought their sweet families to share a meal at ‘Underpants’ and say an affectionate goodbye. It was a real joy to be with them all again.

Off to Kennedy Airport at 5am for the journey back to a cloudy and cold London feeling relaxed and refreshed.

No prizes for spotting the difference
between Nantucket and London views from air!!!!

May is my favourite month

2007-06-22T00:00:00.000Z

May is my favourite month, but it came early this year and April took it's place. It's now mid June and it’s a year since I started this journal. A year in my life of extraordinary happenings. I sit in the sunshine on my blue bench in my patio garden. The broken slat still holds and the scar on it, similar in many ways to the one that I proudly wear on my chest, Reminds me that “things can be fixed”!.

The treatment I am having now is giving me some unpleasant side effects but the outcome will be worth it. Herceptin causes fatique and the withdrawal of oestrogen plus the addition of the anti- oestrogen drug Arimidex which I have been taking for 2 months now has given me painful ligaments. I have gone for help to the Haven and have been given medicinal herbs and acupuncture to help these symptons. In additon I am to take Omega 3.6.&9 and 3 fish oils per day plus glucosamine to combat it. It will wear off in time and I just have to be patient for at least another six months. I still haven't had a day of depression thanks to the support I've had - anything else is just a detail and I feel emotionally strong and very grateful.

Above my head is a small plaque that reads “There’s nothing worth the wear of winning, but laughter and the love of friends” H.. Belloc, and as I sit under it and feel the warmth of the sun on my head and my new crop of hair, I ponder on how very true that is and has become though the quotation has always been with me. I found it on the service sheet of my youngest cousin Mikey who tragically died from a burst appendix at St George’s Hospital – now the Lanesborough Hotel where we held Aimi’s wedding. He was an extraordinary young person. Brilliant scholar and spiritual being. He embraced Sufiism in his teenage years and attracted 200 people from all walks of life to attend his funeral at St Pauls in 1960 aged only 21 years old..

This was one of his favourite quotes and came from the old soul he was and in it’s entirety it reads “From quiet homes and small beginnings, unto the world’s remotest ends, there’s nothing worth the wear of winning, save laughter and the love of friends”.

Laughter and the love of friends is what has carried me through this year and I am humbled by the amount of love and attention I have been given.

Highlights of this month include four baby blackbirds learning to fly in my patio for several days. I fed them black and blueberries and had purple poops all over the place and on the blue bench where they practiced leaping off in

to the flower pots. The mother now comes and calls me for attention and food at the open kitchen door. Photos of the month include Mia and co in my wigs on the blue bench; flower from Bishops Park. Connie's mum Rose will be 100 on 30th June. Unfortunately I am not able to attend the very special party she is having - Happy

birthday Rose and many more!, as I am off to America on Sunday, thanks to the kindness of Michael Vaughan - another old friend who has sent me a ticket and will pay all expenses. All that is expected of me is to rest and have a good time. I am going to Nantucket via New York. Playground of the rich and famous and an island of beauty to stay with a group of friends from the days when I lived in America.

Au revoir mes amis. Will try and send a blog postcard!

"You Fill up my Senses Like a Night on the Ocean" John Denver

2007-06-12T23:56:00.000Z

10th May 2007

My senses are filling up as I relax here on the beach at Calla St Vincente in Mallorca. Gentle breezes and the sound of waves wash over me as I lie contentedly in the warm sun with a book.

I can see a yacht moored a little way out in the bay and memories of “nights on the ocean” flood back. Nights at the helm alone with the moon on the midnight to 4am watch on Dad’s boat crossing from Malta to Sicily. The sense of being at one with the boat and the mysterious dark sea and sky with only moonlight and the neon flecks of phosphorous dancing in the wash from the stern and the swish of the boat surging through the water – onwards, under sail.

Other memories of mornings moored at Gozo and buying fresh mackerel, sleepily at dawn, from the local fishing boats just coming in from sea, and frying it with butter on the little paraffin grill for breakfast with crusty and gooey Maltese bread after Russell had gutted the fish with a sharp knife in a bucket of water on deck.

Nights being rocked to sleep in my bunk by the waves. I miss my Dad. I miss those days. I miss the sense of having a home and parents to go to - just fleetingly.

I have my own home now and I am my own parents - or I can borrow others to stand in and I parent others.

The sun and the sea and the “now” is the same. There is just a different cast list that I will no doubt feel nostalgia for in 20 years time if I am still privileged to be experiencing it all.

I have come here to rest and eat healthily. There is no pressure or work or family and no computer. Very little telly (Eastenders and the News excepted) just clear, clean air, beautiful scenery and colours. Fresh delicious food and some good books and company. What more can a girl ask for?

I am reading a book about the Power Within and have been practising being in the 'Now'. That’s all we ever have - the presence now. We can attempt to control and manipulate our lives but they will unfold as they are meant to anyway. Better to sit back and enjoy the ride having done the best I can a day at a time. How to make God laugh? Tell him your plans!

Chris’s villa is spacious and comfortable and I have emerged from a great bone weary tiredness of the first two days. I had had my Herceptin treatment on the morning before the flight which left Gatwick at 6am. Winston gallantly offered to drive me to the airport. He being the king of the night owls arrived at 3am prompt in his silver Mitsubishi STO Sports Coupe and put my suitcase in the boot. We drove at breakneck speed on (thankfully) deserted roads and motorways under a saffron and rather eerie full moon. Narrowly avoiding hitting a fox that had decided to cross the four lane motorway; its eyes glittered like the cats eyes on the road as it darted in front of us looking in our direction.

My flight left on time but there was about a half hour walk to the gate and I was carrying a heavy carry on bag. Last minute bits and pieces and arrangements plus packing meant that I had not slept all night, but it was a joy to link up with Christopher and Lisa both waving madly in the arrivals hall at Palma after the two hour flight.

For two days I felt ill with exhaustion. My bones and joints ached and I felt cold and listless but slowly after resting and sleeping well I am being restored to about 75% me and am now enjoying myself and my new eyebrows!!!!

Here are some holiday pix of this magical Island full of beauty and wonderful surprises.

Herceptin - the wonder drug

2007-06-03T22:18:00.000Z

3rd May 2007

I’m back at the Marsden for my 3rd session of Herceptin. Everyone seems pleased to see me. It seems they have been reading the blog and have suggested I put the Cancer Card web details on the bulletin board.

The waiting room was chocker block today and only the odd chair free in between other bodies. I chose one next to a person I intuitively felt I would feel comfortable with; sat down and politely said “Hello? How are you today?” She was wearing a headscarf but there was something very familiar about her face as she said “Not bad thanks”. “I know you” I said, “I know you too” she said looking at my North End Road Market hat with the glittery black rose pinned on with safety pin, “What’s your name?” I said “……..” she said. “….. It’s me, Sylvan” I said and we hugged each other laughing.

My West End hairdresser from days ago when I could afford the top Salons was sitting next to me and neither of us had recognised each other due the big change of matter on the head from our previous blonde locks.

It made the day for me and we compared notes for 20 minutes and tried to blot out the
conversation next to us in which one woman was telling another about what dying might be like or entail!

The usually good vein on my left wrist got canny today and refused entry to the needle for the drip, but another one in my hand accepted it smoothly with “only a little prick” and I am now waiting for the Saline drip to be attached so that I can settle down with a book and a cuppa for the next one and a half hours.

Herceptin - the wonder drug that women went to court to fight for not long ago, has been freely given to me by the National Health at a cost of £25,000 for a year's supply. It is administered at 3 weekly intervals by way of a drip from a plastic bag containing a clear liquid and it is believed that it will cut down any risk of the return of my cancer by 50%, and giving me a 94% chance of non return and being alive and well in 10 years time. Gratefully, I receive today's £1,400 worth of medication and settle down with my book.

I am reading “A Short History of Tractors in Ukranian” It’s nothing to do with tractors, in fact, but a very funny book about an 84 year old Ukranian widower long resident in in Britain who falls for a flamboyantly busty Russian gold digger in search of a passport and prosperity and he is in complete denial as to her motives to the great consternation of his children.

My lovely nurse, Lorna, has now inserted the drip and I am beginning to relax except for the fact that I should have had a wee before & I know I will probably have to go in about ten minutes and will have to take the drip stand with me - should be interesting!

The Friends of Royal Marsden trolley has arrived and I have selected an apple juice and a packet of cheese and onion crisps to keep me going till lunch time. Everyone around me seems cheerful and chatty, I have a good book, a comfortable arm chair with my feet up on a stool. Time to write and to read without interruption or any feelings of guilt that I should be doing something other than what I am doing. My cup runneth over.

The weather in Uk has been unusually glorious for about 3 weeks now beating Southern Europe hands down.

Last weekend Aimi and co and I drove down to see my late cousin Digby’s daughter Kinny and her sweet little family in Berkshire.

She has two adorable littlies - Isabella and Marina and we had a delicious cup of tea and cake on the patio together playing pass the baby between us.

Then I took Mia and Isabella to see the chickens. We went right inside the run and I was able to pick up an old but friendly brown hen for them which was a great hit. Not sure they’ll have any eggs for a few days but it was touching to see the children’s faces as they
touched the feathers.

Chris and Lisa came to stay on Tuesday night. It has been a while since we saw each other so we had a grand reunion with champagne (for them - any excuse!!!) and a diet coke for me as it was Lisa’s birthday followed by a slap up meal at the Blue Elephant to celebrate, kindly paid for by Christopher as he has again lost the dieting competition, with more champagne and a cranberry juice and soda for me.

Yesterday I went round the corner with Chris to The Hair Garden, local hairdressers and we both had a short back and sides with Yvonne and Maxine - best hairdressers in Fulham. My hair is about an inch long now and just beginning to look acceptable without a hat. Christopher, who always has the right thing to say says I look like Jean Seberg who had her hair cropped for the movie of “Joan of Arc” a million years ago, but I’m still not ready to put a hatless photo on the blog yet!

11.55 The tea trolley has just arrived with another cuppa and I have to decide whether drink or trundle to the loo first. Decisions decisions. I have decided to go now and have the tea after.

Quote:

“The first requisite for a peaceful mind is an empty bladder” Winston Churchill.

Made it! That’s better! Now for that cuppa.

Russell is never far from my thoughts. He is up to his ears with work in Kentucky but I have had the odd phone call which is always a joy and a delight, and I can feel his presence even though he is so far away.

I’m taking off for Majorca at 6.00am tomorrow morning to stay with Christopher and Lisa. Lisa’s family are visiting also. I’m looking forward to meeting them and to having a good rest hopefully in the glorious sort of weather we have just been experiencing in the Uk. We are hoping to go and see my dear old friend Leapy Lee in cabaret at one of the islands’ top spots one evening.

Leapy, who could be seen recently on BBC's new series of "Never Mind the Buzzcocks" has been a much beloved entertainer, award winning journalist and disc jockey with his own 3 hour show in Mallorca for the past 23 years.

His 60’s chart career was revived with the BBC TV series of Passport To The Sun which ran for four seasons. I’m sure he has lost count of how many times he has sung “Little Arrows” but it is always a thrill to hear it again and to rememberwhen he borrowed Charlie Boston’s guitar and sang it personally and just for Aimi and Mass at their wedding reception. If you are going to Majorca, a trip to see Leapy in cabaret is a must. Details to be found on his website - www.leapylee.co.uk.

Winston Mason is to collect and take me to Gatwick at the unearthly hour of 3am! Well he did volunteer and as he is usually up most of the night, I have graciously accepted and will enjoy the ride with him.

12.40 The lunch trolley has arrived and I’m tucking into an egg sandwich, glass of apple juice and a banana (also courtesy National Health) and chatting to the man next to me who is having hormone treatment for prostate cancer which has been successfully treated although it had been an aggressive one involving 90% of his prostate. He too looks well and jolly.

Having had a further pot of tea and two apple juices, not to mention the litre of expensive liquid chemicals that have been inserted into me, I urgently need another trip to the loo but will wait until treatment finishes in about 10 mins.

1.50pm Time to go home

My old hairdresser friend arrived in the oncology room as I was about to leave, her face aglow and bright blue eyes glistening with the joyful news that today’s result of a recent scan showed that her lung cancer has receded almost completely, and that the oncoming course of radiotherapy should, God willing, remove the rest. To look in someone’s eyes and see and share the relief that they are feeling at that precise moment is truly magical; a privilege, and went straight into my heart and tear glands.

On the way out I was delighted to find an 'owl' on the coat of arms on the 1st floor wall and took it as a good omen. I then spied two ladies head to toe in black sitting side by side awaiting their treatment.

I smiled warmly into the small slits in their face panels and the brown eyes responded to me and they both nodded an acknowledgement. I presumed they were smiling back. That’s my bit for this sad world and world peace today.

That’s all I am able to do. I wonder what would happen if everybody did it?

Providing my ex hasn’t taken a contract out on me due to our recent spat, I am looking forward to arriving at Palma airport courtesy Easy Jet safely at 9.20 tomorrow morning, there to await Chris and Lisa’s arrival 20 minutes later from Coventry. The rented car will whisk us to the villa and peace - wonderful!!!

I’m taking a break from the laptop too, so will report back on the hol on my return circa 12th May.

Au revoir mes cher amis xxx

"Aimi Rainbow Loves The Flowers"

2007-04-26T22:58:00.000Z

"Aimi Rainbow Loves the Flowers
Sits and talks to them for hours
People can’t believe it’s true
Flowers talk to Aimi too!”

20^th April 2007

The cherry trees in the park are heart achingly and beautifully laden with their luscious blossoms. Soft gentle light with golden tones kisses London tonight and purple lanterns of Wisteria hang from once dingy walls and gladden the heart. I’ve got a feeling that this burst of colour is meant to be here in May (my favourite month) and may be a month early but anyway I’m not complaining.

Went for lunch with Bernice in Twickenham where I took the pics of the Wisteria that covers her house and we all enjoyed watching a family of Ducks on the river across the road from Ferry House.

We are having an early heat wave. It is not expected to last past the weekend but it is blissful to feel the sun on ones shoulders and head after such a long gloomy winter.

My heart is very ‘gladdened’ today because Naughtiness is much better and we had such a nice chat courtesy of Alexander Bell after his last shift in Scotland. I really think he is on the mend again. He was very complimentary about the blog and the little film I created last week and it made me feel good because I really respect his judgement.

Took Pam to the A & E dept Charing Cross Hospital with a broken leg and was told off for parking at the door whilst I helped her in! .

I am gearing up steam to write to the Parking authorities. I do try not to moan but the latest ticket courtesy of Westminster Council has really got my goat. It was given at 10.55 at night whilst I was doubled parked as close as I could get to Sue’s 60^th birthday bash so that I could drive Jane Russell home who is 82 and very lame. I was helping her up the basement stairs to the car when someone placed it on my windscreen. What is it coming to when you can’t help an elderly lady to a ride home without a £50 penalty. Where will it end?

Had a wonderful chat to Amir of Evermedia this morning. We have never met but after 20 minutes chat, are now bonded through our spiritual beliefs. He is into psychology and spiritual matters in a big way and we had a wonderful conversation comparing notes on how we have come to the same conclusions about these matters. A new friend! I know nothing about him – what he looks like – how old he is – what his circumstances are, but I know from our conversations we are on the same path and that I can communicate with him. I only phoned up to say there was no hurry on the latest films which his company is converting from my old super 8 cine reels to Camcorder tape so that I can edit them, add music and sound effects and make some happy memories on CD for friends and family. And he made the fatal error of asking me how I was, and, as usual, even with complete strangers I told him, warts and all! 20 minutes later (!) we discussed the DVD ’The Secret’ and he is going to send another recommended one about Quantum Science called “What The Bleep Do I Know’ and a relaxation tape he has made himself as a present.

If you need anything at all, tapes, films, sound tracks, vinyl records copied to digital or other formats, I can’t recommend his company EVERMEDIA mail@evermedia.co.uk more highly having compared results which cost twice as much in London.

I have counted 568 blooms which have have fallen off the Christmas Cacti this year, now bare again having supported me cheerfully all through the winter of chemotherapy, icy snaps and all.

22^nd April

Naughtiness phone to say he had arrived in Kentucky safely. He is quite excited because he has managed to locate the tomb of his great-uncle, Russell Percival Herring and enclosed a photo and a loving card with a pressed flower plucked from the grave in it for me. I’m not quite sure what variety it is as its quite squashed but it was such a sweet thing to do, and I shall treasure it and have put it by my bedside to remind me of him while he is away.

Flavien, my young tenant, came home in a state of excitement yesterday. Prince Harry had attended the Fulham Vue Cinema where he works with some friends to see 'Blades of Glory' and Harry and William had been there the previous week together.

I don’t often have a bad day, as you know but I had a bad day today! I have had a row with my ex over the usual ‘Elephant in the Corner’ situation which has never been resolved and I fear never will be. It is such a shame because it could all be so simple. "My my my!!!"

I guess l must be better as life is returning to normal and I no longer feel so protected from the slings and arrows.

Talked to Caroline Upton about the Elephant in the corner situation that won’t go away from a Bhudist perspective and I have decided to ‘chant’ about it and perhaps if I can find a new view the situation may change or resolve or at least I can let go of the tapes in the head that cause such painful & toxic feelings.

I have decided to hand it over to Good Orderly Direction and have put a sign on my bathroom mirror as suggested in a 12 step program many years ago.

“Dear Sylvan

I don’t need your help today

Love GOD”

Farewells and Fortnum's

2007-04-19T22:14:00.000Z

His Naughtiness phoned to say goodbye this morning. He is on his way back to Fort Knox and the Medical Unit at the U.S. Army School in Kentucky. He will try and keep in touch, but it will be difficult from there. I felt a great wave of sadness and a feeling of loss today which only lifted slightly when I met my good friends Cynthia Rogers and Maxine Thomas for a wicked tea at Fortnum & Mason’s in Picadilly – (less than 24 hours since re-joining Weight Watchers!!) and I tucked in to smoked salmon finger sandwiches; two scones with clotted cream and raspberry jam and a small chocolate mousse, to drown my sorrows whilst the pianist with a beautiful smile played "Feelings" on a grand piano in the centre of the room. We had a most interesting discussion about the rise and fall of powerful men. - Cynthia's father, the distinguished writer Robert Coughlan having ghosted "Time to Remember" the Matriarchal Rose Kennedy's memoirs - and travel, Maxine being off to to various countries in the Southern Antipodes soon.

Main pic: "Not in each other's shade" K Gibran/Sylvan

Naughtiness has been such a source of delight and support over the past few weeks and I will miss my young admirer and his loving late night phone calls. Bon voyage Russell Herring – safe journey. Don’t forget me please.

Tonight I had supper with darling Jane Russell, not the movie star, but nevertheless a very glamorous and exotic 82 year old who lives in Belgravia, and has had a most interesting life in her career with the Washington Post and a racy past! She claims over 100 male lovers - and one female - and has a wonderful sense of humour! We had Shepherds Pie and peas and mixed yoghurts to follow. She has kindly suggested that this blog should be a book and that we should try and get it published and raise some money for one of the Cancer Charities, and I went to discuss how to accomplish this with her help whilst I treated her with Native American Indian Hopi candles to clear her ears. She has some great ideas on how to proceed, and when it is finished I shall have a go!

Mia is on half term holiday and has had a shot at writing an essay on Rome and The Romans having watched a short video. It is a one line essay, and is goes like this:

ROME

I think it is

mostly about

billdings.

Mia (aged 8)

Her doting Mama (we don’t use the g....ma word!) of course thinks she is
brilliant, and if you had to write an essay about Rome in one sentence this shows a touch of genius and is amazingly and accurately succinct.

2007-04-15T22:06:00.000Z

"Life may not be the party we hoped for,
but while we`re here we should dance"

Well here I am – back at the Medical Day Unit at the Marsden after a four week break which, as said a couple of times already, followed the wonderful news that there is a good chance that I may still be here in 10 years time. A 94% chance, in fact, once treatment has been completed.

Having completed the four month chemotherapy course, the worst is over, but I now have to start on a daily pill called Arimodex for 5 years. This may or may not produce hot flushes and other menopausal symptoms but if so, these will gradually ease off and acupuncture and medicinal herbs at the Haven can ease the symptoms.

I am also starting a years course of Herceptin, the wonder drug which women went to the Law Courts to fight for, which is administered in a drip once every three weeks. In fact I have just had the first one. It was a doddle compared to chemo though I did get a reaction of flu’ like symptoms – feeling very cold and aching bones which are passing as I write. The first treatment they give you is a higher dose that the rest and I am not expected to react in future.

The nurses are keeping me sitting here for an hour after the one and a half hours drip in case I have an allergic reaction and I have been chatting to some interesting people sitting next to me. The lady having treatment and one friend are from India and her other friend is from Zimbabwe. We have compared notes and all agree that this illness is spiritual in nature and will be beneficial ultimately. To have been presented with the death threat at the beginning and faced it means that I feel I can now face life better. Since I am not so afraid of the ultimate ‘bus terminal’, I am now not so afraid of life and its’ variety of vicissitudes.

The ward is as cheerful as ever. There is a family group around a woman of about 40 who is having her first chemo across the way. They are all chatting and smiling and break into roars of (slightly over the top) laughter every so often. Everybody smiles when you catch their eye (it’s the “look” again!) and the nurses as per usual are angels of patience and good humour in human disguise. Cups of tea and fresh sandwiches have been provided over the lunch hour.

I know a lot of people moan about the National Health Service, but every experience I have had with it has been great.

When I had my first serious bout of clinical depression in 1989, my Holland Park NHS doctor popped in to see me every day with her little dog until I was better and gave me her home phone number to call in case I felt suicidal.

My current practice in Fulham is also first class and will always fit you in if it’s urgent, but otherwise an appointment can be booked within a couple of days.

My darling granddaughter Mia was put into my arms immediately after Aim had given birth to her at the Chelsea and Westminster by wonderful nurses in a clean atmosphere, and here at the Marsden I am receiving prompt and efficient treatment that I have yet to find anything to complain about. In addition this new wonder drug, Herceptin, is costing the NHS £25,000 to give it to me for a year – as a precaution and because it halves the risk of recurrence. Can’t complain much about that!

Anyone from anywhere in the world will receive NHS emergency treatment in UK without question, which is more than you can say for the USA with all it’s wealth, and if you have cancer, heart problems or need knee surgery, then you are probably better off with the National Health than private as they have the most up to date equipment, don’t chuck you out as quick as the private clinics and provide follow up treatments for as long as necessary.

The other factor I worried about when I was privately insured by Blue Cross in the States, is that when Doctors (or lawyers for that matter) are paid huge sums of money for their services, I can’t help wondering about how tempted they might be to go ahead with a borderline reason to operate or to spin out treatment or advice because they might be in need of extra school fees funding. (or am I being cynical – again!!!)

When I slipped a disc in my neck in America which caused me agonising pain for about 3 years, the private surgeon wanted to operate on me but I didn’t agree. Now, years later my back is in excellent shape which might not have been the case if it had been cut about.

This weeks's highlight was a dinner party with a difference for 14 at Ruth and Allan's Coachhouse in Kew. The 'Difference' being the two vicars, Fathers Stuart and Martin, who cooked a superb three course Cordon Blue meal for us! It was their way of raising money for charity and it was great fun to watch them preparing haute cuisine for us in Ruth's kitchen. Ruth Gledhill and Alan Franks both write for the Times. The party consisted of several highly intellectual friends. Writers and poets who were far more educated than I, and I felt fairly out of my depth conversation- wise. I decided that it was a good opportunity to learn something I didn't know and listened and learned (a bit! A lot of it went over my non-university bred head).

To keep my self-esteen afloat I reminded myself that they most probably didn't know how to edit a movie in iDVD or create a new music album complete with original cover, or swap heads on photos in Photoshop! I also contributed the theory that a potential new TV show was presenting itself.

"Two Clerical Cooks"; "Priests for Feasts" "Culinery Clergy"; "Ministry Meals" were suggested, and my favourite "Dog Collar Dinners" and we all had great fun exploring the potential of this notion.

My strength is gradually returning, as is the good weather, and I am looking forward to more hair and my upcoming holiday in Majorca at Chris’s villa where I intend to laze about, soak up the sun and hopefully be restored to my former vitality very soon.

2007-04-13T19:59:00.000Z

SPRING FORWARD!

The clocks went forward (Spring forward – Fall back!) a week or so ago and suddenly Spring is here.

It is Easter Sunday. A sunny crisp weekend with blossom and leaf sprouting as I write. I have chosen to stay in London as I just love London on a Bank Holiday weekend. The streets deserted and the pace slow and easy like it used to be before we all started spinning plates 24/7.

I did absolutely nothing on Good Friday except ‘potter’ – one of my favourite occupations! I finished off the film I have been editing for Naughtiness and felt really pleased with it; tidied bits of the house and my papers and put the washing on in a very leisurely way.

Yesterday I worked for Jazz Flower Company of Wandsworth and took photographs of their beautiful flower arrangements at the Lanesborough Hotel - scene of such joy and the perfect day some 10 months ago when Aimi & Massimo got married there.

Dominic, the world’s greatest doorman, recognised me and gave me a great welcome and a free parking place. It was poignant to be in the same dining room again, and I walked around remembering people and happenings and touched the empty chairs where beloved friends sat in the now empty room

laid up elegantly for someone else’s wedding. What a kaleidoscope of happy memories that room held!

A five o’clock Barry, my ex collected me and we drove down to Holland Wood Camp site in Brockenhurst in the New Forest to have a barbeque supper with Aimi and co and friends, Nick, Caroline and Mia’s friend Nicole, who have been camping there since Thursday. I managed to get Barry’s satellite navigation going on screen but couldn’t bring up the voice. We got there in good time and only went wrong a couple of times when we were singing harmonies and I forgot to look at the thing, and, of course, no voice alerted us to a turning ahead. Sitting round the barbeque and guzzling chops, steak, large mushrooms and toasting marshmallows was great fun though quite chilly.

It is not my idea of heaven having no mod cons in very cold weather, but they all seemed to be enjoying the experience. It certainly is a beautiful part of the world. England as it was, and quite a surprise to see beautiful ponies and some cows roaming free in the streets and villages as well as in the forest.

I took Mia and Nicole a Toblerone Easter Egg, the remains of which had to be put away carefully when they went off to bed ( in what looked like three layers of pyjamas and woolly hats) as any food left out at night gets eaten by the fauna! It’s the very first time that there has not been even a tiny plea to stay up a bit longer, generally followed by a few sharp words from Aimi, as the lack of TV and the cold night air made bed in a warm sleeping bag the better alternative.

Tomorrow I will drive to Oxford to see my dearest Auntie Amy who is swiftly approaching the great age of 99 in June, and we will chat till we run out of news and then have a game of scrabble which she will probably beat me at. If it’s sunny and not too cold, I shall wheel her out into the garden and we will have a cup of tea and some cake there as well.

Easter Monday

Aimi and co arrived back early from their camping expedition! It seems that one of the air beds sprung a puncture and that they decided was that. Enough of nowhere to plug in your mobile phone and hairdryer, and back to the warmth of their cosy flat.

The little man who has been sharing my bed for the weekend was packed up in his travel box at 10 am this morning and, after a cuppa with Aimi, I kissed him goodbye and he departed and I put back all the nick nacks that he had knocked over during the weekend. I had forgotten how active Burmese cats are.!

Got up late and had a long lazy bath with Radox Solutions ‘sensual’ bath oil, then off to Holland Park where Spring is ‘busting out all over’, to photograph my young 22 year old French lodger, Flavien with Lucille his ‘amour’ who has come to stay for a few days over Easter. They are blissfully in love, and he had asked me very sweetly if I would take some photos of them both together and I relented. I was glad I had done so because they are so charming, natural and sweet together that the session was very enjoyable and, in addition, Flavien’s aunt Christina invited me to lunch at the Belvedere Restaurant prior to the session and I was treated to a slap up meal!

Back home at 5am for a nap on the sofa; a lovely long warm chat to Naughtiness on the phone from Scotland, and the arrival of my latest tenant, Tim from Bath - a qualified engineer who is changing direction and becoming a chef. He is working at the Ritz hotel and learning his new trade. Gave him a cuppa tea, had supper, wrote this and now off to bed feeling happy and that all is well and good things ahead are to be expected!

2007-03-27T23:27:00.000Z

On the up swing now!

My little patio garden looks pretty and slightly "just-out-of-bed" dishevelled as it emerges from winter. The Christmas cacti has remained unscathed by the cold snaps and I have counted so far 373 dead heads that have dropped off and there are still as many to come. It has been flowering since Christmas – the blooms lasting way longer in the cold than they used to when I was able to stagger indoors with the pot. This morning there is wintry sunshine and a faint spring rustling of the evergreen leaves and a lone insect floating about. Mr Blackbird has just arrived and I have thrown him a small handful of Waitrose mixed seeds and he can’t believe his luck and is now pecking furiously before he is disturbed - eating for England - he is even faster than me!! Mrs Blackbird will get the news later and both will be back for more. I have run out of grapes which they really love but this will make a nice change for them.

My small house is full! All three rooms are let to people who have become friends. Ulla Lagoni just arrived from Denmark and we have had a cup of tea and a chat. She has been here several times before. She is a dead ringer for Doris Day at 60 and a positive and fun person. Then there is Flavien from the South of France. He is a sweet boy of 22 and here to study English while he decides what he wants to do. He goes to school in the mornings and has just got a job at the Local Fulham Vue Cinema complex which he is very excited about. Sometimes when we girls go out on Saturday we find him taking the tickets and make a big fuss of him. He arrived as a rather lost and timid young man but he has blossomed whilst he has been here and it is lovely to see him looking happy. Yesterday Oxana arrived from Moscow. She is a very pretty and dynamic Film maker. Her company makes background films for use in videos and movies. If you wanted a shot of fire, or a waterfall, for instance Oxana would provide it. She is a bubbly 26 year old and happy to be back and has made friends with Flavien already. So we now have a very cosmopolitan household with a mixture of French, Danish, Russian, English, Scottish (moi) with a Moroccan cleaner, a Bulgarian lady who irons a Polish odd job man and an Italian son in law!

Naughtiness seems to have turned the corner, thank God, though he has to wait for final results of his chest X-ray before he can relax. It’s wonderful to hear him sounding better and his old cheerful funny-story-telling self again.

I am beginning to look really well. My eyes have cleared and are bright again and my skin feels good. I am eating much more healthily and taking supplements and exercising with power plate. There will no stopping me when I get over the fatigue that follows chemo!

Had a hectic weekend. First I went to stay with my old friend Annie de la Grange in her new house in Marshfield, Gloucestershire. I was driven down by Kerry (kind uncle) who had also been invited in his smart maroon jaguar. We are both Godparents to Ann’s oldest son Max and have all been friends since we were 17. It was lovely to see Annie again and her lovely new home which is still in process. Wonderful food as usual, a great walk in rolling country fields with no habitation in sight; lunch and a swim at the very swish Lorcum club, and a Mother’s Day service on Sunday morning where Annie and I read the 1^st lesson and then giggled through a children’s hymn about a wiggly worm, each event interspersed by my taking a nap. Still very fatigued but it was a delicious rest in fresh country air and surroundings.

Drove back to London and went for Mother’s Day supper with Aimi and Co. Then a taxi over to Bernice in Twickenham for the night so that we could leave early on Monday morning for Digby’s funeral.

I had booked a table for 20 family members to gather at the Eastbury Hotel in Sherborne. David Whittingham came from Paris and John and David Willoughby from Devon and it was great to see them again, albeit under such sad circumstances. Here I am with my three remaining cousins on Dad's side:

We all walked to Sherborne Abbey and proceeded in last as “the family”. We were expecting a good turn out but it was amazing to see at least 600 mourners. They came from all over the world. There were 50 Ghurkhas and countless Cresta riders and many many old friends from the army or St Morritz.

I was especially pleased to see Sarah Wooldridge on my way down the aisle. I automatically looked for Ian next to her before the sudden remembrance that he too had passed away a few days ago. They had both been old chums. Good to see Sarah’s brother Tim again too.

Cherry had organised everything beautifully and the service was wonderful. An immaculate setting; rousing hymns; poignant readings from all three children; an address by George Bingham that had us in fits of laughter at Digby eccentricities and a talk by Lt General Sir Peter Duffel outlining Dig’s bravery in the jungle in Borneo and a few quips from him too which made us laugh again. The 'last post' ended the service, and the coffin was carried out to the tune of “The Battle Hymn of the Republic”. Digby would have loved it all and his spirit was very much present.

A short, very cold, and blustery trip to the cemetery and then back to Cherry’s barn at Stockbridge Farm for drinks and nibbles. All 600 appeared to have come back and were now shoulder to shoulder in the barn. A good atmosphere. A good send off. Bernice and I drove back to London in a blizzard but arrived safely at about 11pm.

So strange that I am still here and dear Digby has gone. Just goes to show that you can make all the plans you want but the hand of fate will do what it will, when it will, and there is no changing it. I love every day I’m privileged to be alive now!

ps Special thanks to Deborah Peat for lending me her "funeral" hat. It was the perfect hair concealer and looked very smart.

The worst is over !!

2007-03-20T23:36:00.000Z

The worst is over (fingers crossed). Last Friday I had my 6^th and last session of chemotherapy. All went smoothly – no trouble with the veins. The cold cap was almost unbearably cold now that I have about 10% of the hair I used to have and I nearly gave up but perseverance for that little bit longer paid off and the cold started to ease off. Frances collected me and came with me for the morning session and after seeing Dr Monika and having finally plucked up the courage to ask her to put my details in the computer and come up with a statistic for the future, we celebrated my good news at the Crown. The 94% chance of being alive and well in 10 years time is fine by me – that is if I don’t get run over by a bus in the meantime!. I would still have had an 80% chance of this fact even if I hadn’t had any treatment – just the mastectomy, however, I feel the extra insurance has been and will be well worth the trouble.

As the doctor said at the beginning when I was in a state of shock, Early stage breast cancer (and prostate) are very treatable conditions nowadays.

Frances and I went off in great jubilation to celebrate this news with lunch at the Crown Pub opposite the hospital.

Verena joined us and stayed for the afternoon bringing me another very cute owl for my collection who I have named Toffee after Verena’s sweet dog whom she rescued from Battersea Dogs Home.

This week’s euphoria has been marred by several sad events.

My cousin Digby Willoughby died in his beloved St Morritz at the age of 72. How odd it is, that, having spoken to him a few times during my illness when he called to see how I was, that I am here and he is not. He will be very much missed. He was a brave soldier and a brave Cresta rider and people were quite frightened of his fierce and authoritative front. But I knew him as my gentle older cousin Dig who brought me exotic gifts such as a necklace of unpolished precious stones and beautiful raw silk material from Thailand when I was a pre- teenager and he was staying with us on leave from the Ghurkhas. Who took me for drives with my L plates on in the countryside and kept my parents entertained with his unauthorised “Bawdy songs and Backroom Ballards” albums and rude songs and limericks on his guitar. I knew him as a great fan of Burl Ives and the Ink Spots. I can remember as if it was yesterday how he patiently taught me to play the guitar and wrote down the chords I was to learn which was to lead me personally to a lifetime of adventure. Whenever I went to stay with him and the family, he would say “Bring your guitar” and we would have a jam session and I would sing harmonies with him. I knew him at age 60 something, as a very fearful son who had forgotten his keys to his 90 year old father’s house thus forcing the white-haired old boy to come to the door himself on his zimmer frame. The ancient austere monocled Colonel Bill, the father that never once gave Dig a word of praise for all his courageous achievements and could still cause Digby much anxiety. When he broke his neck at Shuttlecock on the Cresta one year, I phoned Uncle Bill to make sure he knew as there was a piece in William Hickey about it. “Have you heard from Digby?” I said carefully, “Oh Digby, he said, he’s off tobogganing somewhere”.

His death was a quick and sudden heart failure in the place that he loved with people that he loved at three score years and twelve so there’s a lot to be grateful for in that.

I hope you are “off tobogganing” somewhere Dig and really enjoying yourself. You deserve to – God bless you

The second sad news was of an old friend Ian Wooldridge, the Daily Mail sports writer extraordinaire who suffered a long illness with great bravery and courage. I also spoke to him a couple of times en route to his wife Sarah and the last thing I said to him was “Keep buggering on” (courtesy Caroline Upton who always says it to me!) Coincidentally I met Ian through his beloved wife Sarah who’s brother Tim Chappell shared a flat with Digby when they were both on leave in London.

The obituaries and Radio 4 etc have been full of both of them this week and feel pretty sure they are enjoying the prestigious reviews over a glass (or two) of whisky together.

After two deaths in a week I was feeling nervous as things often go in three’s, when yesterday at 8.30, I was hauled out of bed by a boy on his way to school, who knocked on my door to ask if an expired cat outside my house was mine. Having told him it unfortunately belonged to the people across the road and was very very old, I said a quick prayer for it and breathed a sigh of relief.

"The clock of life is wound but once,
And no man has the power
To tell just when the hands will stop;
At late or early hour.
Now is the only time you own,
Live! Toil with a will!
Place no faith in tomorrow;
For the clock may then be still".

On a happier note we celebrated my other cousin Christopher’s birthday in style with a drinks party here and then dinner at the Blue Elephant, Fulham’s best Thai Restaurant.

Mia carried in a birthday cake and we sang Happy Birthday. Lisa gave him a super new croquet set for the garden at Kenilworth, and I gave him a framed picture of him and the goat on the Majorca beach that we always tease him about, and a “Shag a Sheep” novelty apron to go with it! We also had fun with a pair of glasses I found that are made from a plastic drinking straw. You put one end of the straw in your mouth and the other in your drink and the glasses in the middle go on your face. When you suck on the straw, your drink travels up the straw and winds through the glasses round and round and them ends up in your mouth. It is hilarious to watch and we all had a go. Although it was Chris’s turn to pay for the dinner owing to losing the latest dieting competition, Lisa very kindly insisted on picking up the tab in celebration of the birthday and my getting over the chemo.

It was funny to think that is was nearly 6 months to the day that I found out I had cancer and we went to that same restaurant that night and I had tried to eat between bouts of tears.

The end of the tunnel is in sight!

2007-02-26T23:42:00.000Z

February 22^nd 2007

I’ve been feeling anxious for a couple of days and I’m not sure why. Naughtiness has not been at all well and has a chest infection, and I have, possibly, been picking up worrying vibes from Scotland, but it’s probably, also, because the end of this phase of treatment is nearly over, and I think I am feeling uncomfortable about being well again. I know this sounds very strange but, the last nearly 6 months of tremendous highs and lows have been a very, very precious 'time out'. I feel a certain safety in the treatment process and the contact with the hospital, and I think I want to stay in my cocoon a bit longer. If I thought that I only had a few months to live, I’m quite sure I would feel differently but I’m pretty confident that I’m on the mend (as are my doctors) and will make a complete recovery soon.

Being free to do as I please, and to be centre of attention, and spoilt on a daily basis. To have people say how well/pretty I am looking even if I’m not. To be taken out for dozens of meals and social events and ferried around in other people cars that seem very happy to do it is quite addictive. It’s a bit like being a small child again in a happy, safe world of lovely friends and treats.

The last few days have been especially enjoyable. Highlights have been lunch with a very old friend called Penny Tham with whom I shared a fourth floor walk-up flat in Great Cumberland Place in the early 60’s when I left my job as Copyright Chief’s secretary at Advertising Agency Foote, Cone and Belding, (affectionately know as Foot Sore and Bleeding). To be completely accurate, I got fired for taking too much time off for singing lessons and auditions. I wrote and recorded my first disc “We Don’t Belong” whilst sharing with Penny and another friend called Aline Rowley. I was responsible for the £15.00 per week rent and bills, and sublet the two other rooms for £8 per week each. Convinced that I was headed for the heady heights of stardom and financial rewards, I didn’t bother to get another job as, surely, the money would be rolling in soon, and I continued to take the rent off my two flatmates on which I lived for several months, failing to pay the rent and bills from it.

The record was released on July 28^th and an appearance on ‘Thank Your Lucky Stars’ alongside Ken Dodd launched it. We appeared together in a photograph in one of the papers together as “Happiness” and “Tears” his record being called ‘Happiness’ and mine referred to as ‘Tears’ being of a very gloomy nature - suicidal ideation – oh dear! Another TV appearance followed on ‘Scene at 6.30’ for Granada for which I flew to the show in Manchester with the late and lovely Nico who was one of Andy Warhol’s friends and who’s record “I’m Not Sayin’” by Gordon Lightfoot is still one of my favourite recordings.

There were radio shows with Jimmy Young and a weekend marooned on Radio Caroline with the young Tony Blackburn and Dave Lee Travis and, funnily enough, Roger Gale who is now an eminent MP as a publicity stunt. All was going very well and I was climbing the charts until Auntie BBC pulled the plug on the record considering the lyrics not suitable for the public (quite right!). We had been hoping for this outcome as anything the then stuffy BBC banned shot straight up the charts having been plugged to death by the illegal pirate ships and the news being plastered all over the tabloids!

Unfortunately, a spate of unsuitable records were released that week and, duly banned by the Beeb, by others who had also worked this strategy out for themselves. Barry Maquire’s “Eve of Destruction” about nuclear chaos (strangely fitting today) was banned as was Twinkle’s song about a motor bike death and a couple of others that escape me now. All these artists were more established than me and hit the headlines first. By the time mine was banned it was not news anymore. The record company stopped printing copies and I slid into obscurity and debt. The flat had to be hurriedly packed up and poor Penny and Aline given very short notice, and I went home to my parents with my tail between my legs; a car load of belongings (this has changed a great deal!) to eat humble pie and face the wrath of my father who had to bail me out for £800 which was a lot of money in 1965.

Life is sometimes full of amazing surprises! This little record which wasn't even a one-hit wonder has been plucked from obscurity in the last five years and recorded twice on memorabilia album/cd’s. The latest, the Hat Box Collection (Girl Groups Lost and Found) which features a hat box containing 4 cd’s packaged as makeup compacts etc. and a diary book containing photos of the artists in which I am sandwiched between Dusty Springfield and Madaleine Bell (no comment!) was nominated for two Grammy Awards a week ago for Best Historical Content and Best Packaging. We did not win one on the night, but how wonderful to be a Granny with 2 Grammy nominations – yes, historical and well packaged – that’s moi.!!

Penny, who’s husband Peter is Swedish, took me to a beautiful Swedish restaurant in Barnes called Sonnys. Lovely fresh clean interior of pale wood and pale blue with red roses on the table; superb eggs Benedict and slim line French fries and we talked forever about our lives since we lost contact about 20 years ago! Penny has had a very successful career in the magazine business working for National Magazine Company where she was Beauty Editor of Vanity Fair. She is an elegant beautiful woman of a certain age who has, and has had it all plus the inevitable slings and arrows that seem to come to all of us, without losing her warmth and charm. I so enjoyed her company and after lunch we popped into a couple of shops in Barnes for some quick retail therapy.

On March 13^th I attended the “Look Good Feel Better” session with 12 others at the Marsden that I wrote about in the last blog. It was a fabulous afternoon, and look at the set of gifts we each took away courtesy of Messrs Arden, Revlon, Lauder, Clinique etc's charity and the Marsden team!

Many other things to be grateful for have out shadowed the increased feelings of fatigue and a rather nasty mouth ulcer this time, such as this loving drawing by my darling Mia which she has gone to such trouble to create and is really beautiful and artistic; the Christmas cactus in full bloom after the freezing weather we had when it was covered in bubble wrap; A lovely glass owl was sent by my dear friend Cam in New York having read about my collection in my blog. Cam has been a fountain of strength and support and supplier of phone calls and very funny emails and news of his and Kate’s beloved pugs Gracie and Chloe. He recently had a bad time health wise himself and has coped magnificently. Here are the girls on holiday!!! Lunch at Bernice’s lovely new home on the river with Christopher in tow. (pic) Concert at Cadogan Hall with ex husband Barry; supper with old friend Kerry. News that Christopher and Lisa had made it safely home on the big snow night and that Christopher had celebrated after reaching home in very dangerous conditions by peeing a heart in the snow for Lisa which made me laugh out loud – now that’s love!!! Long and lovely chat with Naughtiness on night of Grammy Awards (pic;) Supper with another favourite cousin David Willoughby and Marysia up from Devon; Lunch Bernice again with Deborah and Sue; lunch at Coq D’or in the city with Cynthia Rogers and Maxine having been picked up by Cynthia’s driver, Romani who is an Egyptian Christian. We had such an interesting conversation about the Middle East conflict and it was so interesting to hear it from his perspective, and a valentine red rose in a vase from interflora with a typed note which said “From a Long Time Admirer” which kept me guessing for a few days. I even asked the postman if it was him.

Thank You for the loving kindness of my fellow Human Beings. In this troubled world there is still plenty of joy goodness all around.

One more chemo to go and Spring is around the corner!

“All is well, all is well, all manner of things are well” Julian of Norwich.

“Let It Happen” Aunty Amy 98 yrs old.

CHEMOTHERAPY - Probably not for the squeamish!!

2007-02-14T22:19:00.000Z

2^nd February 2007

Five down - only one more to go!!!

Yesterday was the fifth chemotherapy session which I have been having at three weekly intervals.

I can’t believe how quickly the time has gone; that the final session will be in three weeks, and that, however strange it may seem, I have enjoyed and am still enjoying this whole life changing experience.

I thought that today, I would go through what happens when you receive chemo as it rarely seems to be talked about and therefore many fears are born in the darkness. It is certainly not the ghastly process that one imagines at all, though it’s not a picnic either!

My three weekly appointment is always at 9.30 on a Friday at the Medical Day Centre at the Royal Marsden Hospital, Fulham Road and I have been fortunate to have a close friend or family member willing to accompany me each time.

Frances Topp, my old friend from Music Week days collected me in her car and we set off at 9.15, checked in 15 minutes later and took a seat in the cheerful circular waiting room with several others, and Florence made her first appearance of the day with the free tea trolley. (Actually, the only gripe I have through this whole business is that Florence will not provide guests of patients with a cuppa and that makes my cuppa less enjoyable. I think I will take it up with the powers that be next time).

The day is divided into two parts with a two hour break in the middle.

The first thing that happens is that you are weighed. This is because the chemicals are made up very precisely and if you have gained or lost weight since the last mixture, it may have to be adjusted. Blood pressure and temperature are taken by a junior nurse, and then you are called to the oncology room to have blood samples drawn into two phials for analysis in the laboratory. This is to make sure that your red and white blood cells have repaired themselves since being blasted on the previous session. So far, mine have always been normal but, if they weren’t I would be given a blood transfusion and we would then carry on so that the treatment plan was not interrupted. The blood is taken in the oncology room, another circular cheerful room with a circle of sage coloured armchairs with leg rests and a wide arm to put a pillow on to hold the arm they are using. Alongside each chair is a drip stand.

This is the part I dislike, as my veins tend to do a runner when they see a needle approaching and it has taken the nurses up to 4 attempts to get it in. The nurses for blood tests are juniors and if they fail to reach a vein twice, must hand you over to a more senior nurse. Once the blood has been taken, it is back to the waiting room and another cup of tea while you wait to see the Doctor. My meetings with Professor Smith’s team of doctors has always been a good experience. This is the time to report back on any side effects you may have experienced so that they can vary the pills they give you to take home, and to ask any questions you may have.

I have always had a few things I wanted to know and take a notepad with questions written down. I generally see Dr Sutherland who is exceptionally courteous and caring and makes me feel that she has all the time in the world to listen and to reassure me.

Providing the blood tests have returned and are ok, the Doctor orders up the chemicals and then you are free to for two hours whilst they are being prepared. The waiting room with its friendly ambiance and all the time in the world to spend quality time with a friend or getting to know fellow sufferers and compare notes and tips on how to get through the treatment has also always been enjoyable but it’s nice to take a break from it and do a little retail therapy and have lunch. . Yesterday I learned that there is a “Look Good, Feel Good” class every two weeks in which beauticians and make up artists from various Oxford Street stores give you facials and make up lessons for a couple of hours, and send you off with a goody bag containing about £280 worth of expensive creams and makeup. The “Look Good, Feel Good” company is an American franchise which has been operating over here for about 12 years. It currently visits 42 UK Hospitals every two weeks and is adding 5 more this year. The products are supplied by top companies such as, Esther Lauder, Elizabeth Arden, Revlon etc and the make up artists from the stores or TV studios. It is an act of charity on their behalf and a fairly brilliant marketing idea too, as I imagine there must be a tax advantage plus an opportunity to introduce people to products that they might normally not buy, but could possibly do so in the future. (or am I being cynical?)

Anyway I have put my name down for the next session! There are also free massages and pedicures which I will also book for. Hooray for the National Health in this case!

Frances and I went across the road to the Crown Pub for lunch. It was quite poignant as I remembered the last time I went there about 27 years ago with my Jack, my Dad who was having radiotherapy for his throat cancer, and memories of how brave and cheerful he had been came flooding back. When not staying with us in Esher, he took a flat in Sydney Street round the corner from the hospital. He used to say that he had his first and last digs in Sydney Street. The first when he was 21 and had just arrived in London, cost him about £2.50 per week “with the landlady”!! – The last about £250 a week “without the landlady”. He had hired a little mini minor and used to drive it swigging water from a silver flask because his mouth and throat were very dry from the radio treatment. He longed to be arrested whilst doing this so that he could prove to the police that it was only water. Other memories were of “sneaking” on Dad to the hospital staff because he had smuggled sleeping pills,whisky and cigarettes in in his suitcase which were promptly confiscated, as I was worried about him as he was just about to undergo an operation to remove the lump. It left him with a temporary hole in his throat which, mercifully, did not affect his voice, but, defiant to the end, he would shock us all by blowing smoke rings through it before it healed up.

It’s a lovely pub with a conservatory restaurant at the back and a friendly and jolly young barman. We had a huge Caesar salad each and shared a large bowl of freshly made Carrot and Corriander soup.

There was just time for a little shopping and then a phone call on my mobile from the Nurses advising that the chemical concoction was ready and waiting for me and we headed back to the Oncology Room.

Now for the worst bit which is the insertion of the Canola. The Canola is a sort of valve that is inserted into a vein with a thicker and quite painful needle, then taped on to you. It receives the Saline drip in one part and the syringes of chemicals in another. It is inserted by a senior nurse with a lot of experience.

It took two attempts yesterday as the nurse wasn’t completely happy with the first one and there seemed to be a slight swelling when the drip went in. She was humming and hawing about whether to proceed. “Just carry on and bung it in” I said, I’m sure it will be alright, as I was not wanting to go through the needle insertion again. “We have to be very careful” she said. “Why is that?” I said. “Because if the vein has been nicked on the other side causing a puncture, the chemicals will leak into the surrounding tissue and kill it and the damage is irreversible. “Ah” I said, “Lets try another vein then”! Luckily, the second attempt went in smoothly and I relaxed with the worst part over.

As I have wanted to try and “keep my hair on” if at all possible I have opted to have the cold cap treatment. The cold cap looks like a jockeys hat and comes out of the freezer and is jammed onto your head tightly to freeze your scalp. Not pleasant at all, and not everyone is able to take it, but, in my case I decided to persevere. After it gets so cold you don’t think you can stand it any longer, if you endure just a moment more it starts to ease off and become bearable. The reason behind the cap is that the hair follicles which are fast growing cells are shrunk by the cold and therefore not so likely to let in the toxins that will temporarily kill them off. There is no guarantee that it will work, but I have been fortunate in keeping, albeit a fairly thinnish
covering of hair on my head, plus a good fringe so that I only need to wear little knitted hats and have not needed the two wigs I bought in advance.

I have a lot of fun tarting up my various little hats and turbans with silk flowers and costume
jewellery and I’m so glad its winter as they are nice
and warm to wear.

Now for the chemicals!!!! After the saline drip has been got going, the nurse shows you the phials of chemicals and carefully reads you the label details printed on each one. Your name; the strength of the prescription, and once again, asks you for your date of birth. This is a frequent request and is required whenever anything significant is done to you. At first I thought they were checking to see if I was compos mentis as they do when they ask mental patients “Who is the Prime Minister”? and “what day is it today?” etc. However, I soon learned that my sanity is not in question or an issue. It’s just to make absolutely sure that they are administering these toxic and dangerous chemicals to the right person and that there aren’t two patients with the same name.

After the saline drip which is to coat the vein prior to the strong stuff which follows, has started flowing, a small colourless phial of dexymethasone is introduced and injected into the canola by the nurse who will sit with me till its over. Dexymethasone is a steroid and is given as an anti-nausea drug. It tricks the mind into believing that there is nothing wrong. Without it, the stomach would reject the toxic chemicals immediately, and lunch would be smartly deposited on the floor along with the ‘poison’ which needs to stay in your body in order to do its work For about a minute this drug causes a very strange reaction which is the feeling that you have inadvertently sat on a hedgehog. Extreme prickling in the nether regions is due to the nerve ends in that areas’ reaction. It’s quite unpleasant but passes quickly. Dexymethasone is also a stimulant and will keep me flying for about 24 hours till it wears off, and once it has been given, the final stage of the insertion of the chemicals can begin.

I am having a prescription for my type of cancer called FEC which consists of three chemo drugs called Fluorouracil, Epirubicon and Cyclophosphamide. The first tube is about 8inches long, 2” round and contains cranberry red coloured fluid. It will cause me to excrete rose coloured pee for the next 24 hours! There are two tubes of this and it is followed by the other tubes which are colourless.

The only other side effect during this process is an odd feeling in the head; a prickling sensation in the nasal area and light headedness if it goes in too quickly, but this disappears once the chemicals have all been inserted. The drip continues for a few minutes and then the cold cap is removed after another 15 minutes. Then I’m free to go home once I’ve collected the tablets I need to take home with me which will control any further nausea.

Afterwards, I generally join Mia and her friend Isadora at their swimming lesson and have a drink with Amica and then go to Aimi’s for supper.

Today is Saturday and a feeling fairly normal day. I have got plenty of chores done and am going to the cinema this evening to see “Music and Words” but after that a sort of grey cloud will descend and I know that the next two days will be a write off.

For the next two days I will not want to leave my bed or the sofa except to get light food such as soup, fruit and yoghurts and plenty of water which is vital for the first 72 hours. I generally lie in bed all morning dozing between phone calls from loyal friends who know what I’m going through. I can’t talk for long but it is a comfort to receive them and then I nod off again till the next call.

At lunchtime I go down to the kitchen and get some food and take my medicinal herbs and then retire to the sofa and telly, more dozing and phone calls for the afternoon.

There is a blissful freedom in being able to sleep as long and as often as you wish; get up and go to bed when you feel like it; stay in your night clothes all day and eat when you’re hungry without a time table. All without feeling guilty! I absolutely LOVE IT! And the feeling of giving up control to the Universe and “letting it all happen” knowing there is a time limit and true to past experience, I will feel better again in a couple of days. The only thing I make myself do each day however I am feeling is to soak in a hot bath as it makes me feel better.

By Tuesday I will be able to totter out for a walk and lunch with a friend or run a couple of errands and collect Mia from school.

The following two weeks will be an upward swing. In the middle of the cycle – days 10 -14, I will have to be careful not to catch an infection as this can be quite serious when your blood count is at its lowest and the immune system not able to fight it off. I carry a thermometer in my handbag to check my temperature at this time, a card from the hospital with details of what needs to be done if I get sick, and hide my face with a scarf when out. I also avoid touching surfaces such as door handles etc. with my hands, and try and use my sleeve instead.

Connie’s advice – not to touch my eyes, nose or mouth when out has been invaluable as these are the points of entry for germs and viruses and, so far, touch wood, I have not ever had a cold during this winter period.

More soon, but I am finding that the main symptom which is fatigue is definitely accumulating with each cycle and it is getting harder to put pen to paper when I constantly feel like a nap, but I promise I will endeavour to keep this going.

By for now.

Ps All the drawings on this posting were done by my very talented little cousin Irene who stayed by and with me for the fourth chemo session and who has been a great support from day one - see her website www.irenesanderson.com .

2007-01-22T18:48:00.000Z

The Look of Love

“The greatest thing, you’ll ever learn, is just to love and be loved in return”

I believe that the most precious gift a child can receive is the look of love and approval from its original care giver.

The look one should find in one’s Mother’s eyes was, unfortunately, not there for me.

Photograph by Leapy Lee

My mother, Margot, was the beautiful and remote youngest child of the union of a successful and beloved gynaecologist and head nurse at Leeds Infirmary. Grandpa Gough was adored by his patients. Even when he became Professor Gough, he would rush out in his pyjamas to deliver a baby. He also delivered me (which he would probably have been struck off for today!). I still bear the reddish remnants of his thumb between my eyebrows which I usually conceal with makeup, and there is a tiny mark at the back of my head under my hair. Due on Guy Fawkes night to enter this world with a bang, I was in fact, 5 weeks late and finally emerged on December 2^nd after a 36 hour ordeal for my poor mother. Mum had tiny non-childbearing hips and I was a 9lb baby and a dry birth.

The doctor in charge of the birth wanted to use forceps to get me out as I was stuck well in, but when Grandpa heard about his, he took over and I was gently assisted into the world with his thumb on my forehead thus preventing a much more serious mark.

I felt very special to my Grandpa and remember his “look of love” and felt a sense of safety and warmth from him until I was three years old and he “went to heaven”.

“Mummy, Umpa forgot to take his umbrella to heaven with him” I said to my grieving mother who had been his favourite, due to the fact that Granny Gough had found out about Grandpa’s one night stand with a nurse when she was pregnant with my mother, and had never forgiven him for it. There was a remark at the dinner table every night after that. As a result of this my mother had been shunted aside from the family and had been brought up alongside the other children by Auntie Jeannie a spinster aunt. My mother too was denied the look of love from her mother from whom her insecurities probably developed, and I have long been able to forgive her for not being able to pass on something that she had not received herself.

Until his death, our home was a reasonably happy one although the first signs of neglect due to alcohol use were there. For some reason, one night when I was 2 and a half, I woke up to find the house empty and wandered out of the front door in my nighty into the dark street and knocked on the neighbour’s door. I was taken in by Bertie Gunn – cartoon editor of the Daily Mirror, and his wife till my parents returned. What would the social services make of that nowadays?

My mother would light up and exude a happy glow when ‘Umpa’ arrived for tea and I would climb up onto his grey trousered lap. “Have you been a good girl?” he would ask me. I nodded vigorously and my mother would say “We………ll?!!” teasingly.

The anticipated white paper bag of sweets was produced which he must have saved up his rations for, and then we would play “Umpa, Umpa, stick it up your jumper” and he would hide a lollypop from me under his sweater and I would wrestle him for it.

The light went out of my mother’s eyes when he died, and a series of nervous breakdowns and clinical depressions began that would lead to addictions to alcohol and prescribed medicine (sleeping pills, tranquilisers, purple hearts etc) which was exacerbated by a miscarriage when I was 7 years old.

When I went into 3 years of therapy in 1997, Cassandra asked me to imaging my mother looking at me lovingly and I had no memory of this – only of eyes turned away that could not meet mine and uncomfortability in my presence.

Until I was seven I was driven to school by Mum. According to one school report I was up to half an hour late 36 times in one term. From eight onwards, she gave up on this and I began to get myself to school as both parents slept late and never emerged before 11am.

Their drinking had taken off heavily at this time and my father’s success meant they were invited to glamorous parties and they would go off to them looking fabulous, and I felt so proud of them. My mother in a little black number with pearls and diamond brooch would kiss me goodbye in a cloud of Channel No. 5. She was as beautiful as Vivien Leigh and as remote and mysterious. These parties led me to lie awake often till 3am worrying about their safe return. I would hear their car engine changing gears half a mile away in dead of night in the country and my spirits rose momentarily because they were home safely, however, the homecoming would often be followed by vicious verbal fights and crashing noises which they would try to disguise by putting Beethoven on the gramophone (there’s an old fashioned word!) and my heart would thump with apprehension.

The next morning, my journey to school, sleep deprived, would be rushed whilst they recovered. No time for breakfast or sometimes, even a wash. I would often miss the hourly bus and have to run for three quarters of a mile and arrive hot and flustered and late. I remember being questioned by a harsh teacher in front of the class. “Have you washed your face this morning? brushed your teeth?” “Yes”, I lied “What did you have for breakfast” “Scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, orange juice” I lied again. I was sent to wash my face.

A note was sent home to Mum who summoned me to her ‘recovering from hangover mode’ in her four-poster Georgian bed, and she waved it at me to demonstrate what distress it was causing her and I said I would try to do better.

My failure to perform was doubly confusing as we were, to outwards appearances, the family who had everything

My father gave me what love he could when he was not busy being a successful writer, and I can still see the look of love and warmth in his blue eyes. He would always come upstairs to say goodnight and would spend time sitting on my bed and stroking my forehead gently. “Give me a razor kiss” I would say, and he would rub his evening stubble against my cheek. “Give me a butterfly kiss” he would reply and I would flutter my eyelashes on his cheek.

When he was working on a film screenplay, he would read me his latest ‘scribblings’ as a bedtime story. He was working at Ealing Studious in those days on a series of films about children. ‘Mandy’ is probably the most well known with child star Mandy Miller and which comes up regularly as a classic black and white film on afternoon TV; 'Hunted’ with Dirk Bogarde, and ‘The Divided Heart’ which won the Golden Laurel Peace prize were others.

On my eighth birthday, he took me for a walk round our big garden and held my hand. “You are growing up so fast” he said in a sad kind of way which I couldn’t understand. “Why is that a bad thing?” I thought but did not voice it as I didn’t want to spoil the moment with him.

At thirteen, I was packed off to boarding school. Dad would write to me regularly with his news, but never a word from Mum. I would write a dutiful letter home to both each Sunday not wanting to worry them, but I was experiencing the unhappiest and most isolated time of my life, as, after a severe bout of Asian flu, I suffered my first experience of clinical depression which lasted for over a year and I don’t really know how I survived it. I had out of body experiences where I was watching myself from the ceiling. This terrified me and I thought I was going mad. The feeling of isolation was profound and as I didn’t tell anyone about it, I didn’t get any help or support.

Daydreaming had been my first “escape” from reality. Dreaming about being important and admired by others. “There goes Sylvan. Isn’t she wonderful?” everyone would cry. In my fantasies I would imagine I was saving someone from drowning; drag them on shore and resuscitate them to cheers and applause from an appreciative crowd and be asked to go off in the ambulance with them. I also lived on a ranch as a cowgirl in my dreams and would tend to cowboys who had fallen off their horses or been shot and they would look at me lovingly from their beds.

Food was the next escape from painful feelings and I gained weight and became a spotty ugly duckling at 15. I also started to talk back to my father and the “look of love” disappeared for several years after that and put down remarks emerged “Pudding with a figure like yours” he would say.

It was not all bad. There were funny memories too. Dad had a collection of hats and, in a good mood, would have us rolling around in hysterics as he entered the room in each one pulling a funny face and pretending to be Sherlock Holmes or some other personality of the day.

I left school just before my 17^th birthday with five ‘O’ levels in English Literature, English Language, French, History and Art and after a secretarial course which I did begrudgingly but which I am now grateful for, went to work for Peter Carter-Ruck the renowned libel lawyer.

At the same time, my father fell in love with a 17 year old friend of a friend of mine and I lost him for a while and my mother plunged once again into despair and nursing homes.

In an attempt to rescue their marriage, they emigrated to Malta in 1963 and – as my therapist said “So your parents left homewhen you were 19! ”.

I sought the “Look of Love and Approval” in the eyes of lovers for a long time and had one or two meaningful relationships and a marriage, but as soon as the magic dust settled and I was left alone or taken for granted, my anxiety overwhelmed me and I would abandon the relationship before I perceived they were about to abandon me.

The truth is, in this period of reflection, that anyone I ever cared about has never abandoned me. I have always been the one to leave when the relationship didn’t live up to my Hollywood ideal and make me feel secure.

After my divorce from my ex husband my own drinking and depressive episodes accelerated and I gradually grew weary of life and lost hope of finding any kind of happiness. “All the empty horses” as Bob Dylan sang, had returned. At 39 when another 7 year relationship had turned to tears, a series of coincidences and ‘chance’ meetings led me into recovery, and since then I have had a bumpy but upward ride.

The drink & tranquilisers had to go completely in order to uncover the fears and anxieties of the real me. Then my addiction to powerful men who would ‘take care of me’ had to go – this took longer with a couple of nervous breakdowns on the way.

My fear of financial insecurity was severely tested in 1994 when, during the recession, three of my bread and butter employers were made redundant and my self-employed income as a free-lance Photographer disappeared overnight. A period as receptionist at BBC Worldwide TV brought me a fast spurt of growth. I started my first proper job for 20 years as a knee-trembling, hyperventilating wreck and grew in confidence to become head receptionist who was nearly fired for being too officious four years later.

I felt at first that was being taken in a direction I did not want to go in at all and it had the scratch marks of my finger nails on it as I clung to the past, but, as with every major change and what appears as a calamity, it was for my ultimate benefit and the dark threads transmuted to gold. It was hard, having been my own boss with my own company in a glamorous world for nearly 20 years, to do a menial job for others. Everyone from my past, it seems, came through the worldwide reception. At first I used to hide behind the desk from the likes of Joe Grima from Malta TV; Len Hawkes of the Tremeloes, and Ann (weakest link) Robinson “I thought you were a photographer” she bellowed in a loud voice when she recognised me, and others. After a while, having seen a Fleet Street photographer twitching at the sight of me on his way to the post room, and realising that he was ‘delivering’ parcels I realised that we were all getting by as well as we could and that it was all alright. I learned that ‘ordinary’ life was OK and that I didn’t have to do something that elevated me in the eyes of others. I let go of Photography, never imagining it would ever continue again and settled for this new quieter life with both feet on the ground.

As soon as I had leaned this lesson, the photographic work “flowed” back to me. I had done nothing to encourage it, and I have enjoyed it and the adventures it brings me to this date and have no reason to believe it will not continue.

I still chase the look of love, and I find it now in my daughter’s eyes and, of course, my darling granddaughter Mia’s beautiful milk chocolate old soul eyes and in her drawings. I fell in love with her the instant I saw her little flashing heartbeat in the Ultra sound scan dept with Aimi in the Chelsea and Westminster Hospital and from that precise moment, my life took on new meaning and dimension. I have felt needed and important and, alongside Aimi and Massimo, have been able to give that little bundle the confidence and love that I craved as a child and have been richly rewarded. Mia is a bright, confident, exuberant, thoughtful, loving considerate-of-others, doing well at school child with many talents. The best piece of art in my house is this one which Mia drew for me when she was four. It precisely depicts the bond between us. Me a loving benign presence with, according to her, “interesting things” on my skirt and “love feelings” in my heart looking out for and over at a happy confident little girl who feels secure with her hand in mine looking outwards.

I have also found the look of love in so many friends eyes in the past 3 and a half months and I realise that it is, and has been, always there – sometimes buried by human resentment or anger – but only I can block it completely with self centred fear, and when I get rid of that I join in oneness with others and can give to them 'the look of love'.

“The greatest thing, you’ll ever learn, is just to love and be loved in return” This is one of the principal gifts I have received from this illness

I don’t know what to expect when I put pen to paper or how others will judge me for what I’ve said! But in the hope that it will help someone somewhere, I will end there for now.

Alternative therapies

2007-01-18T02:51:00.000Z

Wednesday 17th January

Still feeling very tired. Probably more so than this time the last cycle. They did say that the side effects would be progressive, although the only one I’m aware of being progressive is the fatigue. I‘ve still got a fair amount of hair on my head. Not anywhere near a wig yet, and I didn’t need any extra nausea pills this time. I compared notes with about four others in the ward last Friday and they were all complaining about severe headaches and some sickness during the first few days. I seem to have had a lighter sentence in comparison. It seems that they were not aware of, nor had taken advantage of the Haven Breast Cancer Charity's free sessions that help with the side effects of chemo and radiotherapy, so I think it most likely that the Medicinal Herbs from Alex Haig; Acupuncture from Chris and Reflexology from Claire Nicholls at the Health Food shop in Fulham that I am having to help the body de-toxify and heal, are indeed working and I have given the other girls this information. As a matter of fact, the acupuncture session I had with Chris at the Haven last Tuesday has definitely given me some evidence of this, as, when I went to him I complained about the very sore vein on my left wrist which had been badly nuked on session two and had gone into spasm and had been very painful for several weeks. So painful that I had taken to wearing my watch on the other wrist because of it. There had been no sign of the condition improving and I was told by a nurse that it would take a very long time for my vein to soften. I’m not sure if Chris stuck a needle into the vein or whether it was nearby as I didn’t fancy watching them going in, but I certainly felt enormous heat from his hands which he held about 8 inches away from me over my wrist, my wound and my head. Two days later the vein had shrunk to half its previous size and there was no pain. “You are definitely a healer” I said to him, and he replied mysteriously “We all are”! I found Chris quite fascinating. He is greatly present in the moment and there was a stillness about him. We started to speak about spiritual matters and, although I like to think of myself as being fairly “deep”, he left me standing and I lost him along the way.

I did however introduce him to a fascinating book I have just read called “Mutant Messenger Down Under” which is about an American woman who accepts an invitation from an Aborigine Tribe to receive an award for the work she has been doing for underprivileged ethnic races. She is collected from her smart Australian Hotel in a peach suit with matching silk blouse, and driven off on a two hour drive into the Bush. When she arrives at the Settlement, she is told to take off all her clothes and put on a wrap-around rag dress of theirs, and leave all her worldly belongings folded and piled up on a chair. She is then told that they are going “Walkabout” and agrees, presuming she will be back in a couple of hours. As they set off, she sees her sees her pile of clothes, shoes, handbag containing camera, mobile phone, wallet and expensive jewellery, dropped into the fire! She decided that not offending the tribe would be a wise policy and that she could replace all these things and search the ashes for the jewellery on her return When she asks when they would be back she was told “In three moons!” and they set off walking. As she had no money, no phone, and hadn’t clue where she was, she had no alternative but to go along with them. Thus unfolded an amazing experience of survival in the bush with no worldly possessions and no money. This paragraph leaped out at me on page 111:

“These people say they have been here for all time. Scientists know they have inhabited Australia for at least fifty thousand years. It is truly amazing that after fifty thousand years they have destroyed no forests, polluted no water, endangered no species, caused no contamination, and all the while they have received abundant food and shelter. They have laughed a lot and cried very little. They live long, productive, healthy lives and leave spiritually confident”.

I also remember reading a lovely piece in one of the daily papers about an Aborigine chief who, to make a point, sailed a raft up the English Channel on Australia’s 200^th Anniversary; landed; stuck a flag in the ground and “claimed England”.

My Christmas cacti which began as a tiny sprig of a cutting from my mother- in-law’s plant and took three years to produce two blooms on my first date with Roger in 1993 (I saw that as a good omen at the time, but with hindsight, I realise, it was sticking two fingers at us!) has burst into bloom again and presented me with over two hundred blooms. It is now too heavy to lift in for the winter months and I have had to leave it out in the patio with a bubble wrap blanket on cold nights. So far it has weathered well, but I am dreading a really deep frost in case I lose it. That would be really sad as it has become a good friend, but it’s grown so big that there just isn’t room for it inside the house any more even if I could stagger in with it.

Have been encouraged today by another reader who is enjoying my mutterings so will continue to share my strength, hope and experience in the hope that it will be helpful.

Four down – Two to Go!

2007-01-16T01:50:00.000Z

Sunday 14th January

It’s day 4 and I’m feeling rough, but not as rough as yesterday!...The grey cloud descended as per usual on Saturday night and I spent a restless night with grey chemical dreams and woke up feeling ‘down and troubled’ with a hole in my heart; lead weights in my limbs; a fuzzy brain and a nasty taste in my mouth.

It was very hard to be positive and cheerful yesterday, but, as Naughtiness advised, I don’t have to be up all the time and it’s more helpful to say how I’m feeling.

Slept & dozed most of the day away interspersed by phone calls to see how I was doing. Barry Fitzgerald, lead singer of the Washington DC’s who recorded 32^nd Floor and a couple of other songs written by Mike Bradley, Gary Illingworth and myself 1n 1966. His lovely wife Kate, went through the same chemo thing and he has been very helpful. We reminisced over funny stories about the old days of Beat Club, the German 60's pop tv show. This lifted my mood first thing, and then a very welcome call from HN made the day a LOT brighter, and I managed to stagger up and make a bit of lunch and do a bit of work on the Rogers family photo session that I undertook last Thursday. I was not sure if I was up to it but I have taken the children’s portrait for the past 6 years and Cythia had, very considerately, sent a driver with a car for me to help with my equipment and thankfully the session had gone well and adrenalin kicked in once I started work. I sorted and enhanced the photos on my laptop from the sofa with my feet up and nodded off in between spurts of awakeness.

Today is marginally better. I’m not depressed and managed to get out of bed at 7am to say goodbye to Mia who was on her way to a school outing.

She is going to spend four days at Wicks farm in Gloucestershire helping to feed the spotted pigs; muck out and groom the horses; help milk the cows (machines nowadays) and make Gloucestershire cheese. The Farms for City children organisation (www.farmsforcitychildren.org) provides the country experience for city children, some of whom may never have seen a field or a starry sky at night.

She has been unbelievably excited about this very grown up venture away from home, and sat looking very “ready to go” in the back of Aimi’s car as I blew kisses through the window and waved her off with promises to write.

Christopher will be here soon and no doubt I will get a cuppa on his arrival and he will sit on my bed and tell me about his new house in Kenilworth and the lovely Lisa who’s bottom, he says, the sun shines from. In fact, when approaching Kenilworth, we were told, you can see a bright glow in the sky from it, and he has to wear sunglasses at night! We had a lovely 48 hours with them just after Christmas which culminated in a a pub lunch at the “Famous Virgins & Castle ”.

Wonders will never cease!!! Tonight I received news that I have been nominated for a Grammy Award (twice). Well, to be slightly more accurate, the Hat Box collection of Lost and Found 60’s Girl Sounds which contains my very small contribution of "We Don't Belong" recorded in 1965 and banned by the BBC, has been! It is for 'Best Historical Album and Best Boxed or Special Edition Package'. Wait till I tell Mia that Granny may have a Grammy!!!

According to my own diary, I will feel a lot better tomorrow! Just got to accept and endure and get through today as best as I can.

Time to Reflect

2007-01-07T01:02:00.000Z

“My life has been a tapestry of rich and royal hue. An everlasting vision of an ever changing view”. (Carol King again!)

It’s 13^th night and past time to take down the baubles from the tree and the other decorations and put them away in their boxes in the loft cupboard for another year.

London is eerily quiet tonight. The streets are empty; the shops were half open today. Phone calls and emails sparse. Overspent - financially and energy wise, there is time to reflect on past years and the one that lies ahead.

I’ve been thinking about LIFE and the fact that, having survived the sixties, I am still here, and the times that I have had a brush with the ‘Dark Angel’. There was the time I nearly lost a leg in Drayton Gardens in 1990 when parking on a quiet Sunday morning. I didn’t look first to see if anything was coming behind me and opened my car door putting a leg on the ground before consulting the mirrors. In a split second the car approaching too fast behind me swerved to avoid a fast car coming towards me and ploughed into my door, concertinaing it and carrying it out and away from me. It could so easily have smashed inwards – had it done so I might have become the next Mrs Paul McCartney! Then there were the times when Dad left me, an inexperienced 18 year old in sole charge of our Atlantic Ketch well out at sea in rough weather when he had had too much to drink and had passed out on his bunk.The times in my 20's when I drove my MGB GT sports car showing off at breakneck speed when well over the alcohol limit, to frighten or impress my passengers. And the time that Naughtiness snatched a flaming Sambucca from my hand as I was just about to do a fire eating act at 2am in the morning in a Mosta night club!

The most unusual brush of all was when I had my skirt torn off by a gorilla! Yes, a gorilla girls! His name was Ollie and he had only one eye having lost the other in a fight. He was owned by the late Gordon Mills, manager of Tom Jones and Englebert Humperdinck who had a private zoo round the swimming pool in his garden in Weybridge which contained Tigers, Orangatangs and Gorillas. We had been partying at the house when Gordon invited a few of us to go back to see the animals being fed. With drinks in hand we trooped into a shed at the back of the three cages and watched as Gordon went into the middle one which housed two friendly Orangatangs. He held the baby whilst its Mother clung affectionately to his legs. The cages on either side held Gorillas. Two females on the right hand side and Ollie the large male on the left. The two females had been specially imported as mates for Ollie but he had turned his nose up at both of them as, I gather, Gorillas, like humans, don’t like to have their partners chosen for them, they prefer to choose their own. In any case Ollie preferred blondes!!!

I was standing quite close to Ollie’s cage in order to view Gordon in the middle one. Presuming that he could only get a finger through the thick meshed wire, I judged my safe distance at about 6 inches from the cage. Suddenly there was a loud bang and a strong tug at knee level. I looked down and was horrified to see Ollie’s one-eyed huge head glaring up at me and his gigantic forearm protruding through an unseen feeding hole at knee level. His twice as big as a human fist, had firm hold of my long wild silk skirt and was pulling me towards him and about to get a better grip! I was told later that had he got hold of my leg he was strong enough to pull all the muscles out of it. My screams alerted the others and after an electric silence, Barry, my ex grabbed me under the armpits from behind and started to pull. My old friend Leapy Lee ‘leaped in’ to join us and started pulling from behind too. There was a sudden ripping noise and we all shot backwards through the open door and landed in a heap, me on top with legs in the air, my glass of champagne intact, and knickers on, thank God! My skirt had mercifully ripped, and Ollie was circling his cage waving his bit of stolen material aloft and banging the bars with his other arm.

The hold on Life from birth to exit is so tenuous and fragile and I have finally come to realise, such a privilege and such a great adventure. Since a year long deep depression in 1997 with its subsequent therapy, I have abandoned my belief in a judgemental and punishing Deity and come to believe that I am loved for, and in spite of, my transgressions. I am a spiritual being, having a human experience – part angel, part beast and the human experience can be very tough for a spiritual being, but if you hang in there, so worthwhile. My personal current view is that I am a droplet of Good Orderly Direction, the Great Creator, who is experiencing Its own creation through me in my own unique package and It knows that I am doing the best I can. Serenity is mean’t to be our natural state. Why some souls have a much harder time than others is a mystery. Perhaps Karma has something to do with it?

A lot of people get depressed at this time of year. I come from a line of creative escapees of emotional pain. (Drink problems and depression on both sides of the family). One uncle on each side exited this mortal coil prematurely and by their own hands and caused great suffering to their families left behind. With the help of a wonderful psychiatrist, Dr Massimo Riccio, I have come to understand that clinical depression, like addiction, has to be accepted as an illness & I had to surrender to help from others before I could get better. His mission to help me to manage my moods has so far been successful, and I have not had any of the ‘Black Dog’ for nearly 10 years. My main fear at the outset of this new illness was not of surgery or even death but of falling into depression and being unable to fight. Mercifully this has not happened and apart from a couple of weepy days, I have been positive and cheerful since the operation.

I am finally learning to “be still” and feel safe which has taken a very long time. To be part of the orchestra, instead of the principal artist, is coming! There is still the urge to fill the silence with chatter and time with activity, but I am slowing down and taking time to ‘smell the roses’. As Bob Dylan sings in his latest album ‘Modern Times’, “We all wear the same thorny crown” We are all headed for the same destiny, going up the elevator and one by one over the top into the mystery. What is the rush???

When suicide seems a good option.

For anyone considering this and many people do at this time of year, a few observations:

Unless there is an unselfish reason i.e. terminal illness, saving another’s honour or burdon, etc. the Great Creator won’t like it…. and:

It may not bring the longed for peace and oblivion – you may feel worse – forever!!!!!!

You may be sent back to start again!!!!!

It may not work and the rest of your life as a paraplegic or a comatose vegetable would certainly be a worse option

Depression ALWAYS lifts and you will eventually feel stronger than before when you come out of it. There IS light at the end of the tunnel but the tunnel is curved!

There is help available

There is always another chapter

When I think of what wonders life has brought me in the past 10 years since 1997 – the birth of my darling granddaughter Mia being just one of them, I shudder to think of what I had once contemplated when all seemed so hopeless and barren.

I’m not particularly “Religious” but I love a good hymn. This is a verse of one of my favourites.

“Be Still My Soul, the Lord is on your side
Bear patiently the cross of grief and pain
Leave to your God to order and provide
In every change He faithful will remain.
Be Still My Soul, your best, your heavenly Friend
Through thorny ways, leads to a joyful end”.

In the hope that I haven’t made anyone feel too gloomy, here are more wishes for a Happy and Healthy year ahead. Live every moment; put love where there is no love and you will find love, and don’t forget to thank The Universe for The Wonder of Your Being!