Remember That Wood? The one that prompted such weeping because they barred me from sitting on a restful tree trunk?
(Actually, I don't think the weeping was the wood's fault. It was cancer's fault. But let's not split hairs.)
Well, I could have gone today. It's gloriously sunny and I am in the area, having abandoned the family in order to find some solitude and rest. But what's the point of sunshine if the Open Day doesn't start until 3pm, just before dusk sets in? I think there are songs involved, and twinkly lights strung across the trees. But that's not quite the thing I'm after.
So I set off to the little wood just ten minutes across the fields. It's lovely and it's open all year round.
I am happy to report that I found my tree trunk.
And there is no weeping, even though my eyes feel permanently red and watery, as if I've just got out of bed, or haven't slept for days, or have been weeping at the wood's edge. But I think that's yet another side effect of the chemo; I'm having difficulty reading small print at present, unable to focus properly.
I'm just having a cup of tea now before catching the train back to London, not quite recovered (that will take months, I fear) but just about ready again to help put up some Christmas decorations and step out into the traffic.
Which is just as well, as I have my radiotherapy appointment the day after tomorrow.
|That was then...|
|,,,and this is now|