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The Portrait Of A Lady*

A Ginuary triumph: The Portrait of A Pink Lady:   He looks even better in a photo with this person, my new Triceratops Chanukiah:   You can see them together in the attached photo. Am sitting in the bath, removing my pink micropore from my scars. Seeing an infected corner, with a stitch still in there, […]

The Anniversary Man*

“I got you a little something, for our anniversary and Valentine’s Day,” I say to Seb when he calls yesterday. “When’s Valentine’s Day?” Seb says. “February 14th,” I say.  Surely he ought to know this, but then again maybe it’s a good sign that he doesn’t: it means he hasn’t been wining and dining a […]

The Trowie Mound Murders*

“So, it won’t be as bad as last time,  will it, since the cancer wasn’t even in the skin on my left side?” I say.  Am at the hospital, talking to my radiologist about upcoming radiotherapy. He stares at me.  “On the contrary, we didn’t zap all the cancer in your skin on your right […]

Lost For Words*

Ridiculously tired after a full day of spin, shopping, walk, writing the other blog and bath.  Mind has gone blank.   This evening, still need to: 1.  Make gin cocktail for Ginuary:  www.ginuary.com, http://www.ginuary.org.  Have some freshly-squeezed apple juice so will use that. 2.  Reapply dressings which have come off scars.  Tried to photograph them […]

Sleepy Hollow*

“Hmmmm it’s a shame,” the doctor says, frowning, as he looks at my new mastectomy scar.  “It’s healed up well, apart from those corners.” The ends of the scar are red, raised and oozing pus. “So, I know it’s not terrible,” I say. “But I don’t see the plastic surgeon and the nurses till  Wednesday, […]

High Fidelity*

“Do you know what this is, my lovely?” Seb says, gesturing at the television. “Ummmm,” I say.  There’s Vanessa Redgrave and Emma Thompson clad in Edwardian gear: long skirts, velvet hats, high-necked blouses.  It’s a period film but am not sure what. “It’s Howards End,” Seb says, sounding cheerful.  “This is the film that made […]

The Painted Veil*

China 1925.   Toby Jones, Naomi Watts and Edward Norton are in a remote Chinese mountain town in the midst of a cholera epidemic.  They have opium, bamboo forests and possibly pandas, although haven’t seen one yet.  They are carried everywhere in litters on the shoulders of local people, which seems an excellent way to […]

Dirty Harry*

Wake up drenched with sweat but freezing.   “Is that sweat or wee in your bed,” Mum says, at 6.45am or so, when we get up in time for 8.15am Spin. “Sweat, this time,” I say, pulling on my padded-bottomed cycling shorts, fluoro gym top, Mum’s white snow-boots, trousers, scarf, gloves and goat .  “So […]

Gone With The Wind*

“Is that the toast coming up, already?” Mum says, sitting on the arm of the chair, peering into my sick bucket. 11.15 am.  Gone With The Wind Has been playing for forty five minutes or so.  Atlanta is burning.  Am on all fours in front of the television, vomiting into the mop bucket. “Yes,” I […]