2007 — 15 July: lazy-ish Sunday

My first call to Her this morning reveals we both woke up at about 4. Unlike me, however, She simply read the paper for an hour. Sensible girl!

No new news; chemo proceeds. She is eagerly (was, by now, I suppose) awaiting her breakfast. She has told me to relax and putter around and take things easy. Now there's a thought. I will again call in on Her this afternoon. Until then, perhaps I can rely on Clive James? Or fire up the Dyson?

Or even grab a bite myself, and then go in search of a tiny L736 alkaline cell to power the electronic medical thermometer we bought in New York in 1996. Choices and decisions, heh?


The "media" seems to be as trivial and/or hypocritical as ever, worrying about whether Her Madge stormed out of a photo-shoot, whether an artist once again called Prince is out to ruin the profits of the CD music distribution channels, and whether Bob Geldof should hold his extensive property portfolio onshore to maximise the amount of UK tax1 he pays (on the tabloid assumption that it would automatically be directed by the government to the Third World causes he espouses rather than paying for bullet-proof vests and bullets for use in various parts of the world by various parties). It's way past time to "twist the dial" in search of decent music and then simply get on with transcribing Christa's latest e-mail to her older brother and drafting the overdue weekly snailmail to dear Mama.

Explaining this all to Mother!

Although my 12-year(!) archive of letters to Mama is kept tucked away behind a password, my letter to her this week attempts to explain to her the details of Christa's chemo-therapy as simply as I can. Some of my readers may wish to see that, so I have hosted a public copy here.
Recent update: Of course, I also managed to miss the last post today, so I've just phoned her in any case...

And now it's time to set off for the Chalybeate. I can't warn Her 'cos "the number you called is busy!" Let's hope She's pleased to see me...
Recent update: She was, thank goodness! Tomorrow, late afternoon-ish, we consult the consultant to find out what's what and which way is up, and whether She's "homeward bound" etc.



1  Probably about the same amount as the earnings of the editor of the paper concerned.