92. Why Owl didn't meet Hugh Grant

As far as a first work engagement following a much-too-long period of sick leave goes, this one wasn't bad.

"We're celebrating 25 years of Books Beyond Words," my friend, colleague and mentor Sheila had said. "And we're launching a new book in the series, about becoming an actor. Hugh Grant co-authored it. Baked Bean are going to do a play. Can you come?"

It was bang in the middle of my radiotherapy regime, but I couldn't let that stop me. I have been involved with Books Beyond Words for a long time and have co-authored two of them. Plus, I have occasionally worked with the Baked Bean theatre company over the past 14 years. All the actors have learning disabilities. They have often helped with my research, and it's always be a joy.

How could I say no to the chance to watch yet another of their brilliant performances, this time with Hugh Grant as a guest actor?

(If you want to know more about that, you can watch this.)

The other thing I wasn't prepared to let go off was my fitness regime. The walking was going splendidly. If you can ignore the fact that I am sleeping several hours longer than is usual, I am feeling fine. How far would it be from the radiotherapy department to the theatre? (A good 4.5 miles.) Could I do it, given that I would already have walked to the hospital (3.2 miles) and would have to carry a pair of decent shoes? Can't very well go to a drinks reception and meet a Hollywood actor wearing sweaty trainers that don't match the lipstick.

But I did have a good three hours in-between my two rather diverse engagements. I also had a good deal of determination. I am soooo fed up with all this cancer business. Can't wait to go back to normal, back to being able to say yes to things again. Not having my days bisected by cancer treatments that threaten to knock me out of action.

"Doing anything in particular this afternoon?" asked the radiotherapist. Well, yes. I told her, but I'm not sure she believed me.

My friends, I made it. The walk took well over two hours. I slipped into the bathroom on arrival, swapping shoes and wiping my brow. Thankfully, the show came before the reception, which gave me a chance to sit down for a while.

The performance was marvellous. I clapped and cheered and leapt to my feet. I enjoyed every minute of this very ordinary yet extra-ordinary thing: going out. Properly. (And I could even call it work.)

The actors take a bow (photo copyright Peter Taylor, Beyond Words 2015)

The corresponding image from "The Drama Group"
(copyrighted image, www.booksbeyondwords.co.uk)

There was another first: going bare-headed in a crowd.

I have always worn a scarf in public, except in hospitals and waiting rooms. Without it, I thought, I would just look too naked. But now, I'm as fed up with the need to wear headscarves as I am with the cancer itself. Perhaps I've just got used to my bare looks to such an extent that it seems unnecessary to cover things up. 

Now that it's winter, I usually wear some sort of hat, because otherwise it's too cold. (In fact I'm wearing one now, sitting at my computer in the privacy of my own room. It is soft, warm and comforting.) Sometimes, I enjoy the chance to experiment with different looks. But I want that to be a choice, not a necessity.

And is there a better place to "come out" than here, in a setting where lots of people have unconventional looks, and where difference is celebrated rather than shied away from?

So there I was, just being myself, and it was wonderful.

Not just because I met so many old friends and colleagues, some of whom I hadn't seen for years, but also because there were no elephants in the room. There was no tiptoeing around my cancer, but there was no need to get stuck on it either. This time, the usual exclamations of You look so well! didn't bother me, because I felt rather well. I even managed to keep standing, despite the fact that I'd walked a total of about ten miles (19,000 steps! can't help boasting, sorry).

I discovered that a surprising number of people read this blog. It creates an interesting kind of bond. There we are, we've never met each other, but we're instantly on somewhat intimate terms, because they know so much about me.

I was too  busy talking to everyone to go and say hello to Hugh Grant. Oh well. Another time, perhaps. (And he probably doesn't read my blog, so what would the conversation starter with this particular stranger be?)

With old friends and colleagues at the reception (photos copyright Peter Taylor, Beyond Words 2015)

So why deprive Owl of the chance to see a play and meet Hugh Grant?

I did contemplate it. If I can thrust Owl into the hands of unsuspecting surgeons, radiographers and nurses for the sake of a photo opportunity, then surely I could have made him pose with a Hollywood actor.

But you know what? I want to keep him safely tucked away in the cancer world. This small triumph was glorious because it was not part of the cancer world; it was part of moving forward. I am impatient, champing at the bit to get going with my life.

I want to go back to work, back to life, back to normal, unburdened by cancer and yes, unburdened by owls.

Oh, and just in case you're wondering: I took the tube home. Collapsed into bed almost at once. Walked to hospital the following day. But the day after that (today) my bones protested too much, and anyway I overslept, so I took my bike instead.