Every day I make my bed neatly, smooth down the duvet, tuck it down the side of the bed and the footboard. And every morning I wake up cocooned in a 30-tog pretzel with my feet sticking out.
I don't know what I dream about, but it must be very exciting. It's a pity I don't remember, I might have the next big best-selling fantasy series tucked away in my brain somewhere. Although even if I did, I am probably too lazy to write it down.
My sister Penny came for a visit, all the way from Penzance, last week - she arrived on Tuesday evening and left on Friday morning. I'm afraid I wasn't the best company, since I spent most of the time languishing on the sofa (it's useful having guests, it means that there's a spare duvet downstairs all ready for me), but Judy took her out to see the sights of Bicester: the town, and the garden centre, and Bicester Village, and the fake stone circle (we don't know why Bicester has a fake stone circle - that is, it's real in that it's a circle made of stones, but it's not an antiquity - but it does), and ... ummm, that's it, actually. Thrilling, I know. Anyway, it was lovely to see her, since I haven't since my mother's funeral last year.
It's quite strange having someone to stay who's never been before; you have to warn them about all the little glitches that you just take for granted: "Okay, the upstairs loo has a bit of a funny flush, it works okay if you stand on the other side of the toilet and pull the handle towards you ... and the seat's a bit wobbly, and the hot water in the tap only trickles. You can wash your hands in the bidet, no, it's okay, we don't use it. The hot tap in the downstairs loo trickles too, you're on your own there ... Remember to lock the front door when you come in, or go out for that matter, it doesn't latch (the GC has never quite got the hang of this and has several times left it unlocked all night) ... We don't have a toaster, we make toast under the grill, BUT the cooker has slightly dodgy wiring so we turn it off at the wall when we're not using it. Oh, and the pilot light on the hob doesn't spark, you'll have to use the lighter-thingy ... ah, and apparently that one doesn't work at all. And please don't expect our cats to be friendly, they don't like people. They don't even like us all that much ... Enjoy your stay!"
Another former colleague popped in on Friday, bearing a lovely card and a pretty pink potted plant (and left with the loan of one of our three sets of Lord of the Rings, as she said she'd never read it). I think I have now seen almost all the people I used to work with, at least the inner cabal. Some of them are going to have to start coming round a second time. Actually, some of them already have, and very grateful I am, too, although it may not seem like it when I'm propping myself up on one arm and trying to keep my eyes open!
The cancer? Oh, the cancer. It's still there, crabbing away at my tummy. Don't tell it, but it's having its second lot of chemotherapy this coming Saturday. I don't expect it to make a lot of difference, but I hope it'll do some good. Kill off the cancer whilst causing me the minimum pain and inconvenience would be favourite.
The bad news is ... the breathlessness is back, and it is pretty bad, although not as much so as it was before. Dr Naj is going to be furious if the pleural effusion's filled up again after all his hard work, and I can't say I'm any too pleased about it myself. It hurts, and it's scary. These are two of my very not-favourite things. I'm seeing my GP tomorrow, and I'll get her to tap me on the chest and back and see what she thinks. I've got a chest appointment on the 18th; I hope I can hold out that long and not have to play the emergency card again. People will get quite tired of me, if they're not already.
Speaking of my doctor's surgery, they are the winner of this week's 'misplaced sense of humour' prize: they've just sent me a form letter offering me a free NHS health check ...
