Dear Reader, wherever you may be. Welcome to my unwholesome and malodorous blog.

The most stunning Tallulah Pixie

It is friday evening November 19 2010. And that, dear reader, means that I have only 5 more sessions of the radiotherapy and the vile chemo pills to go. A bonus is that Dr Proton has allowed me to forego my weekend chemo because of the dastardly effect it has upon me. You have probably got enough for an elephant or two washing around in there, he says. Just one more week and I am free of both these horrors. What happens next, we shall see when it comes, but just to have got through this stage will be marvellous. I like Dr Proton very much, he is a man of humour. He wants to see me again in four weeks. To see if I am still alive? If you fail to turn up we may have to draw some regretable conclusions, he says with a smile. He seems quite pleased with things, but I would say that anyway, wouldn't he. Where have you been I hear you cry out as one man. Probably because you are actually just one man (or woman). This last week or so I have been suffering from the most dreadful Dire Straights. So thin it makes water look like glue. Only it stings like sulphuric acid as it passes the still smouldering tumour and over the effects of the Beam. Dr Proton has pills which nust be used with care. Take one and see what happens. It should coagulate things nicely, else take another after two hours and so on. We are not in a beutiful turd competition he says. Just get a bit of solidity and that will relieve the pain. I took one pill and am totally constipated. Er, Doctor......

While under The Machine I try to read the maker's plate to pass the time while being zapped. Unfortunately, it is all umlaut, so I try to think up my own. How about The Bainbridge Better Bottom Burner. Bi-directional Beams Burn Both Buttocks into a Black, Bitumenous, Blubbery, Blistered Batter.  I pointed out my fear to the Machine Priestess that I had accute dire straits and could not be held responsible for this million euro beamer. She said all risks were covered as they always put a sheet of shiny paper under me, A3 I believe. I said that a kiddies paddling pool or a rubber life-raft might afford better insurance. I could then be carried away by four strong nurses to the showers. Or the car-wash.

Better MCA Changing room mirrors - design submission

Because I have been relatively static, I have few experiences to share that do not involve the MCA or my toilet. But some highlights, mainly so that I can read this all back when this bad dream is over. Tuesday was the start of a series of Bad Bowel Days.We had Boerenkool, a dutch delight made from mashed potato and kale with a chopped smoked sausage thrown in. The price was more than I could bear, and I have resolved to live only on astronauts Poo and bananas.  Not much happened on Thursday. Oh yes, The Blood Donor. Thanks to Stef's Emma I have zillions of episodes of Hancock's Half Hour, and my favorite is The Blood Donor. I had to give blood and sat next to a very nervous old man. (I still don't think of myself as old!). He sat on the edge of his seat and sagged back with relief when his name wasn't called. He shuddered when people came out with patches of gauze with a little drop of blood on their arms. We were called in together. He began to shake and had to be helped in by the nurse. Why they always say 'here it comes' I'll never know. It doesn't hurt at all. But for this poor chap it was all to much. At the third flinch he whirled his arm around and swept test-tubes, plasters, gauzes, pencils, thermometers and all kinds of medical parafinelia onto the floor. I scrunched my way out to the taxi.

Last friday was a great day, I managed to get to the Crejat Acedemie, and with Merel we did some heroic work. Merel is super enthusiastic and shows a lot of talent. And we make a great team. I almost fell off my stool with laughter when the friendly Chinese girl spoke to me. We make jokes about the way they speak and transpose the 'L' and the 'R' (or at least, Sara does- why you no rissen to me. I want flied lice). But I never heard it in life and never in Dutch. She put her hands on my shoulders and said over and over again that I needed lots of lust. I was quite astonished - she is about 25 and very beautiful, and I am an ageing git. What she meant of course was 'rust', the dutch word for rest. 

The weekend was uneventful, apart from the final Formula 1 race of the year. My man Mark Webber did not do well and brat Vettel became World Champion. I am going to follow Curling next year. I did miss out on Irene's Teardrop Cafe, an event where anyone can bring an instrumenet and perform in her house. Many musicians turned up and by all accounts it is all a great success. I have been feeling so queezy of late that I feared I might grab a saxophone to vent my nausea into. Hopefully when the player was blowing and not....When I am better I shall certainly attend.

Jon Strong phoned on wednesday and that cheered me up enormously. There is a good chance that he can arrange a gig in Mulligans or somewhere around the new year. 

Monday I was delivered to the radiation centre by taxi. The driver complained the whole time about what an awful hospital the MCA is. He signed himself out and went to Leiden to get proper treatment. Oh no, those butchers don't get slices of me etc etc. I was already feeling sick, but all the details about his skin cancer ('came off in handfuls like wet, red sponges it did') were really making it worse. I had my hand on the glove compartment handle. Well I had to protect my trousers in the event of.... We pulled up outside the door to Radio Therapy and I fell out of the taxi and heaved up into a pot of geraniums. The driver looked at me crossly as I groaned on all fours because he had to reach over to close my door. He said 'Have a nice day' and zoomed away. 

The rest of Monday and Tuesday I stayed in bed. Apart from the trips to the MCA. Where I got some funny looks from the other people in the waiting room. I am reading a P.D. James Dalgliesh story. A Taste for Death. On Wednesday Stef was due to arrive. I told her to phone me from the station and I would take the risk of driving the short trip. I locked up. The car wouldn't start because the interior light was still on. Never mind, I have a spare battery in the shed. Which is locked. And the key is in the house. Which is locked. I shuffled to the station and Stef and Jasmine assisted me in shuffling back again. We got in by osmosis, or rather by tapping on Opa's window. When the taxi arrived, we all went outside and closed the front door. I asked the driver if it was ok if Stef and Jas came along. It wasn't, so Stef and Jas went back to the house. Which was locked. And Opa had gone out. Stef said never mind, there are lots of shop windows on the other side of the road that we missed on the way upand they could look into them. The keys were, of course, still in the unstartable car. Sorry Stef. I wish that we could have done more if I had not been so unwell. You can't imagine how much strength you give me just by being here.

Today (Friday Nov 19) I couldn't make the Crejat, but Merel went for me and took notes. Now we are on to painting proper. Our homework is a 'landscape' which we shall both attempt. The Urology department says that my kidney removal operation has been pencilled in for Dec 21. Merry Christmas!

Breakfast at Stiffany's

Late news! I have received a personal and intimate letter from TV star Linda de Mol. At the top it says 'Dear Friend, wherever you may be ... and at the bottom there is drawing of a pair of scissors with the words 'Please cut along dotted line'. It seems that I have been selected by the fair Linda as a possible candidate for 'Hunt the Millions' in which, by great skill in opening brief cases held by 25 girls with a combined IQ of 25, one may walk home with 5 million euros. It's just a question of  deciding when to stop. Most candidates walk away with 1 or two hundred thousand. Whatever you get, the confetti and balloons descend and Linda says 'What will you do with all this money? A boat, a house, a world trip?' 'No Linda, I've got my eye on a set of Titanium Entrails'.

Not much else to say, but I have been shuffling around the garden with my tiny camera, so leave you with some pics.

Love from Dad
and the four-headed fly

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