Post 470: I can’t sleep, stop eating nor watching K-Dramas.
But what’s the harm in that?
After watching what must be my 234th K-Drama since 2022, I reckon I deserve some sort of medal from the World TV Watchers Guild.
I still love them just as much as ever.
They fill the quiet hours beautifully, whether it’s the middle of the day or the middle of the night, when my body has decided it would rather be awake than asleep.
Talking of sleep…
My watch has had enough of me already.
After only a week it’s informing me that I’m averaging a grand total of four-and-a-half hours a night.
Apparently that’s not enough for a gentleman of my advancing years.
Oops.
The annoying thing is I thought I’d turned the sleep monitoring off.
Clearly not.
There’s something fiendishly clever about this little app that defeats my ageing brain every time I try to switch it off.
Never mind.
It can stay on and continue telling me off.
Perhaps next week I’ll surprise it.
Talking about getting lucky…
Tomorrow I’m being collected and taken to a lovely little annual classic car show in one of those villages that you blink and miss.
My mate rang today to say they’d be picking me up at half past ten and looking after me all day.
Perfect.
That means I can wander around at my own pace, admire the cars, enjoy a pie from the food tent and maybe even sample a little refreshment without worrying about driving home.
Their BMW is going this time, but the beautiful sky-blue Volvo Amazon will be making an appearance at the August Bank Holiday show instead.
Something else August brings is one of our favourite treats.
We’ve booked ourselves a proper dinner at a lovely four-star hotel.
We’ll dress up, enjoy whatever magic the chef creates and make an occasion of it.
Sadly we couldn’t get a room there for the night, so we’ve had to “slum it” at a nearby three-star hotel instead.
We’ll cope somehow!
Looking back, it’s amazing how different this summer has been compared with last year.
In 2025 we filled the diary with hope.
Chemo had other ideas.
So many plans disappeared before they even had the chance to happen, not least our long-awaited wedding in Italy.
Perhaps we expected too much.
Perhaps we should simply have gone with the flow and accepted that chemotherapy was always going to dictate the timetable.
This year feels very different.
We’ve learned to plan smaller.
Closer to home.
And, strangely enough, we’ve ended up doing far more.
I’ve been saddened to see the terrible wildfires affecting parts of Europe.
For many people they’ve turned long-awaited holidays into enormous disappointments.
It seems strange that beautiful sunshine can bring such devastation.
Living close to Ashdown Forest, I’ve often seen how nature eventually repairs itself after fire.
Despite its name, much of Ashdown isn’t dense forest at all but open heathland and scrub.
Years ago there used to be fire beaters positioned along many of the paths, ready for walkers or firefighters to use if needed.
Local fires would occasionally sweep through parts of the heath, clearing old growth before fresh life returned the following spring.
The fires in France and Spain are on an entirely different scale, of course.
They’re heartbreaking.
But nature has an extraordinary ability to recover, given enough time.
So do people.
We’ve already got a few more little adventures planned for later this year.
A trip north.
Some family time.
More meals out.
Nothing extravagant.
Just things to look forward to.
Gone are last year’s disappointments.
In their place are smaller, more realistic adventures that somehow bring even greater happiness.
We’ve made new friends.
Our family has grown even closer.
Yes, cancer still shadows all of us in different ways, but it has also reminded us what’s important.
Being willing to do the little things often makes the biggest difference.
A nice meal.
A day out.
A laugh with friends.
Holding hands.
Eating well.
Smiling often.
Simple things.
The very best things.
Smile.
I love you.
Sleep well.
Take care.
