I discovered a few days ago that I have cancer.
This is a right bummer. Not at all what I had in mind for Christmas, and a definite threat to those blissful hours of wallowing in the balmy Pacific Ocean which I have been hanging out for all winter.
But there you go, shit happens. Or that’s what I manage to think in my better moments.
Normally I wouldn’t pass on this sort of personal information. It compromises my tough-old-bag image and my rabid dedication to privacy and self-reliance.
But writing has always been my outlet, it seems a bit late in the day to bother changing my ways in that regard and I suspect avoiding the elephant in my mental room is going to take more effort than I can be bothered raking up, so I apologise in advance and suggest you skip the bits that reek of self-indulgence.
Meanwhile on Monday, I opened the door to my daughter Emily (D1, who lives nearby and has dropped everything to help me) to find my eldest grandson and my other three children there as well, Sam, Jane, Kate and Jake (Son, D2, D3 and GS) having also dropped everything and driven up from Sydney (500 km south).
Cancer aside (and cancer doesn’t deserve to be anywhere but aside) I am so lucky it takes my breath away.
Emily and LlewellynSam and Dan
Kate and Iain