Dear Diary. One week into the treatment and no real problems. Feeling very tired most of the time, a bit like I want to throw up now and again and the sunburn treatment is beginning to bite a little, but 5 down already and only 23 to go. My weight goes up and down. I get a lot heavier after taking all the pills. They seem to be quite heavy and I hope they are not all fighting each other. Still no news of my kidney-snatch.

Checkpoint Chernobyl

I didn't feel up to the Crejat on friday morning, so Merel took my place. As usual, homework is pinned to the wall and every one stands back in trepidation as The Master strides in and advances towards the exhibition with an expression of shock or dismay. It's always best to be at one end or the other. The first one he always deals with rather quickly, knowing that there is a lot to get through. By the last, he may well be so fed with it all that that he may just shake his head sadly and get on with phase two of the lesson. We all have to explain what on earth we were trying to say, and what we found good or bad in our own work. He is always fair, but it is made quite clear that we are not in  a housewives/mans watercolour club, and much is expected of us. Merel took my part bravely, and indicated my drawing Pots in Shadow. He said I was ill, so he would not be too hard on me for that one. Then we came to my portrait of Merel and Emma. Merel told him that I was not altogether happy with it. He said that he could well understand why. I had created this painting from photos, measuring distances between all the features of the face with a slide-rule to the half millimeter. The painting was as precise as if I had traced the photo. To Merel's dismay, Venerable Master said her head was misformed and her nose quite distorted. My opinion of him is, nevertheless, as high as ever, I just need a new camera. The friendly Chinese girl who usually sits next to me offered herbal remedies for cancer. Tiger-Testicle Tea or something. Another offered a website for natural homeopathic chemotherapy. Merel enjoyed herself immensely and made some good stuff in the lesson. The theme for homework is 'Washing Line'. Good heavens! What am I supposed to do creatively with that? Perhaps a lot of little paintings on a piece of string.
A cheering phone call from the God Halpin, on tour in Germany. Many thanks Kieran, and I must +
confess that I have neglected to cram my iPod with your music. A sin.

Off to the AMC for a roasting. This time there were three white-coated priestesses to attend the sacrifice on the slab. Word is getting around. 'No, you 've seen him twice already! Let someone else have a go.' 'No, we'll all go. He won't notice one extra'. On friday afternoon Michelle came round and cooked masses of food to last for days. Friday night we made a candlelight dinner of it with Bernadet, Merel, Emma, myself and Michelle. Marvellous, although I may well pay the price later. A pleasant evening outdoing each other cheering for our favorites in the Voice of Holland. Slept very well for once.

Tony´s front garden 

Note handy toilet windows

Tony's Tiny Toilet

Saturday. Off to  grandson Tony and the lovely, funny Elly, to see if there is anything to fix. They now live in an anti-kraak scool. Two rooms and a shared kitchen. No gas and not all of the electric sockets are working. Probably because, there being no gas, millions of electric fires have been plugged in. Electricty comes out of the fuse-box but gets lost in the wall somewhere in a sooty tunnel where a wire used to be. The living room is a huge classroom with glass walls and a high ceiling. Freezing cold. The fridge doesn't work, but as Tony pointed out, that doesn't really matter because the room is colder than the inside of a fridge so there is no need to put stuff inside it. These two young people  are tough. I am not sure if my two youngest could survive this. Hardship for them might be spending a weekend all alone in a hotel and having to order all their own food. Just joking. They might read this. The toilet is hilarious. Through the little saloon doors with the picture of Eeyore, to the tiny pot. I had to use the thing and sat admiring the long mirrors on the walls, until I realised that they were windows and one was in public scrutiny from both inside and outside the house. Move along please, haven't you seen someone on a toilet before? Anyway, we took them both back with us for a couple of days to warm them up and to avail ourselves of Tony´s cooking. Again, I shall pay for it later. If Elly and Tony were not an item, I think I would apply to adopt her.
Sunday. A lazy day, spent the afternoon watching the rainy Korean Grand Prix. Great despair when my hero Mark Webber unheroicly dumped his car into a wall. Very depressed to watch spiteful brat Vettel cruising to victory. Stood on my chair and cheered my head off when his engine blew up just before the end. I love sport.
Monday. Off to the AMC after a weekend free of the Machine. Back home to find that Stef and Cris have arrived. O joy! What a fantastic gesture to drive up from Aldershot to Heiloo. For just one night, and then back again and to work the next day. And then Adam arriving in the afternoon, back from Sweden after delivering the Happy Hippie and her Bus. Just what I need right now!  Long (for me!) walk and an evening of babble and Flight of the Conchords. Sara, if you don't have them in Canada, I will send some. Hilarious and brilliant. Adam off to the priests thing in Stutgart and the rest of us to bed.

Not a halo,  just a lamp from Ikea (6.99)

Tuesday 9 a.m. call to the AMC. Normally the girls are friendly and put one at one at one's ease. Shake hands and 'This way Mr Ricketts, you can use changing room 'A' and just knock on the door when you're ready, OK?' Today was different. An older, more solid woman appeared, did not offer her hand but bellowed the single letter 'B' and turned round and went back into the chrome and glass jungle like a white rhino. After I undressed she came to collect me and asked if it was too early in the morning for me because I looked a bit dishevelled. I almost said that she would be if she had to face someone like herself before breakfast. Tropical fruit flavoured poo. She wasn't exactly shevelled herself. Fortunately it was the nice onces who did the painting today. Lovely job they did. Probably learned it at the Crejat Academie. Then for a very long walk with Cris and Stef, just talking, talking and talking. Until it was time for them to head off to Calais and the Tunnel.


Stef, Adam, Cris - it has been wonderful having you here, even if only for a few hours. You don't know how much you have helped us both. I miss you all, but we will see each other in a month or two. Sara is coming in the New Year. And Anne. By then I will be on the way to being out of this. Already I am counting down the days of zapping and Jeyes Fluid pills. Each day is a step nearer the end. Er, of the treatment, I mean.



Love you all, Dad

PS Lovely to hear you Sara, can't wait to see you. Skype, Skype, Skype!

PS Have to thank Big Emma for the downloading. Looking at facebook I am not sure whether my grandaughter and I still share the same language. Not good on gangsta. So:

Ah was a marinatin' widja muthah an' da posse anna came te membrance dat dah CD wid de eppies of dah Hancock's Half a Hours is from ma main grandbee-atch wot is well handsome wid de bitch-torrent onna computah. Well, yer ole Grandaddy fines it well tonk, and this ole wankstah is highly unmiffed.  Love you Big Emz, and many thanks