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Hello.

I'm Jane McIntyre, a voiceover and writer, formerly an award-winning BBC radio newsreader and producer. My blog covers life, love and loss; travel, coffee and chocolate; with some heartfelt pieces in the mix about my late dad, who had dementia. Just a click away, I'm half of the team behind www.thetimeofourlives.net - two empty nesters who whizzed round the world in 57 days.

Monday, 21 April 2014

Power of Attorney without tears? Don`t bank on it.




This is a note to The Banks. All of them, really. And to you, in case you find yourself in the same position.

It`s about people who are going through the Power of Attorney procedure; where you take over the financial affairs of a loved one.

In our case, my sister and I have been granted POA for our father, who has advanced Alzheimer`s. This is something he set in place several years ago, `just in case`. On a day to day basis, his partner Phyllis manages the household budget, and most bills are paid by direct debit or standing order.

In recent months, Dad`s condition has deteriorated. He`s being cared for in his own home. He can`t leave his bed. Phyllis is with him 24/7, and there`s additional, twice daily help from a visiting carer. He finds it hard to hold any kind of conversation, or recognise even his nearest and dearest.

If you know someone with dementia, you`ll know it`s a gradual process; like getting your heart broken in slow motion, really.

There`s been-- understandably--a great deal of paperwork to sort out before POA kicks in. And we`ve been guided throughout by our family solicitor.

What saddened and surprised us, though, was how much banks assumed we knew about what would happen to Dad`s current and savings accounts while this procedure was being finalised.

With at least one of the organisations in question, Dad`s accounts were frozen without any warning. This was, apparently, `in line with Bank procedure`. But what it meant in practical terms was Phyllis having a debit card declined without the slightest hint that this would happen, while she stood at a supermarket checkout with a trolley load of food. Embarrassing and distressing. And you can`t get out much, when you`re a carer.

Many telephone calls and emails followed. There were very few compassionate, human responses along the way. I encountered a few automatons. One told me that he couldn`t even continue the conversation because Phyllis had effectively been `committing fraud` . (She always used the card with Dad`s full consent before he lost mental capacity; and continued to do so,with the consent of my sister and I, when Dad`s health deteriorated. He can`t get out of bed, see? ) I lend my daughters my card sometimes, to pop down the Co-op for a pint of milk and something for tea. Are we fraudsters? I don`t think so.

I filed a formal complaint, which has since been dealt with. The bank in question apologised, and accepted that we had not received the `appropriate level of service.` A small cheque  and a bunch of flowers were sent to Dad`s partner for the embarrassment caused.

Matter closed? Lessons learned? We hoped so.

Then the letters started. Same bank; one after the other. Direct debit payments falling like skittles. Each failed payment from the still partially `frozen` bank account suggested that Dad didn`t have enough funds in his account. (Not so). Each letter, `Dad` was told, would cost him £6 in administration fees. Even his police pension wasn`t allowed in.

We understand that most of the letters would have been generated electronically, but with more than enough money in the accounts to cover the monthly bills, these were triggered unnecessarily. And caused even more distress and frustration.

At national level, despite its floral apology, this bank failed us. And because I know, that you, the banks and building societies have been working together for some time to improve things for their customers, I need you to be aware of situations like these.

The British Bankers` Association claims to have new consumer guidance around Powers of Attorney. It`s working with the Office of the Public Guardian, I read, and the Alzheimer`s Society and other key groups, to improve `best practice`. Yet digging deeper and deeper into the documents, charters , promises and press releases you`ve issued in the past year, I can only find a line which warns me: `Your powers will be restricted while your registration is being processed.`

I`m bright (-ish) but to me; that doesn`t say: `You may find yourself at a supermarket checkout with a groaning trolley load of food and a worthless piece of plastic in your hand and therefore, no means to pay for it...`

So. Next time the BBA Consumer Panel meets....could you think about these, please?

1) As soon as a bank or building society hears that a family is involved in the Power of Attorney procedure, contact them. Maybe give them a kind of case-worker. Let them know there`s a marker on the account(s) in question while the paperwork goes through.

2) If there is the slightest chance that a debit card will not be accepted for a purchase during this time, advise the family to make alternative arrangements for this `interim` period. Suggest practical ways they can manage this.

3) Suspend the warning notices threatening fines of £6 a time. Come on...!

4) Make sure there`s a way direct debits and standing orders can still go through, and that a patient`s pensions, can still be received into the account.

5) If you don`t already have dedicated teams in each and every bank and building society in the land to offer this kind of support to people with dementia and their families, start employing people, and training them. You have the money. And you need to care about this. Dementia is a growing problem.

6) If the people taking calls from families like mine at national level, aren`t equipped with the skills to show compassion and concern, find someone else to answer the phone. Seriously. It`s tough enough having someone fading away in front of you, without battling to get an answer from the bank.

7) Next time you get together at national level with that impressive and experienced team, invite Gareth and David along. You might not know them. I don`t think they even know each other. But they both work for a major high street bank, at opposite ends of the country. And on different days, my sister went into hers for help; I went into mine. For Gareth and David--their days, and their duties, stopped. They listened, they understood, they made calls, they gave us their time and their contact details. We don`t even bank with them. They offered practical solutions. If you want their names, shout. They`re both a huge credit to their organisations. In short, they `get it`.

That`s it really. Good luck with formulating strategies and pushing out your press releases. But while you`re doing it...promise me one thing? Don`t forget Phyllis.

Thanks,

Jane McIntyre.








Tuesday, 18 March 2014

Tweeting. And meeting...?



Alpaca walks into a pub...

OK..sorry...you`ve heard that one already?

So...try this one.

Morris Dancer walks into a coffee shop. ( No bells, no ribbons, no music). Sits alongside a sommelier (no wine, no glass, no corkscrew). Who`s opposite a former civil servant (no clipboard, no suit, no red tape ), directly opposite a businessman who`s also an engineer and a musician (no guitar, no oily overalls, no briefcase). He`s next to a young man with a secret. And just across the table from a former journalist (hello) who`s hopeless at keeping them.

Alright, so maybe as a joke, this has lost a little pace. It`s just a rough sketch, of a great hour, somewhere in Shrewsbury this morning. Six people from very different backgrounds, all of whom met on Twitter and decided to go for a brew.

Agenda? None. But top talking points were local arts (Kevin Tanner`s Wellington based and a great supporter of local events ). Also, the fast approaching day of music,The Big Busk, which hits Shrewsbury on April 5. Karen Paterson ( Samaritan, sommelier, and one fab lady) is one of the key organisers of that, and it was brilliant to hear how well the plans are going. Graydon, ex military, now Morris dancer is performing there with his team, too, just as they did last year. Also discussed: mental health issues--on everyone`s mind, for lots of different reasons, and from David, what it`s like running a theatre company, while having to dash off round the world on business trips

And that secret--in the hands of the youngest of the assembled six; a new recruit to Twitter? Well; it`s that Shrewsbury`s going to have a brand new performance venue. In a former Temperance Hall! And the guy they call @Johnnystars is helping to get it up and running. It`s a fascinating venture.

One hour; six people, all with a tale to tell ;none of whom would have met without Twitter. One of a series of Shropshire `tweet-ups` which are giving people the chance to see the face behind the avatar. Messages are great, and funny, and supportive, sometimes, but occasionally, it`s brilliant to get out from behind that little glass screen and meet the guys you tweet *in real life*. Today was a prime example.

Oh--and the Alpaca? He was a no show. He DM`d me, though. Hangover ;)












Monday, 10 March 2014

Too personal: When marketing gets it wrong (and says sorry...)

Ever felt a marketing campaign hits you so closely, that you`re moved to buy the product? A skincare cream, maybe, that you `know` is going to make you look ten years younger? OK...maybe not. How about a car that was designed for your lifestyle--loads of room in the back; stylish as hell;  frugally low on fuel consumption...or that miracle kitchen cleaner that gets the job done in half the time. Allegedly.

Getting personal with marketing can, sometimes work, if you`re sent a mailshot, based on your purchasing history or consumer profile.

And then again, marketing a product or service with the personal touch can go so wrong.



So here`s my own `personal` message today, to Trainline.

Morning, guys.

I use your service a lot. I`m always leaping on trains for work, or to see friends and family. And, like most people, I love a bargain. I`ve tweeted about your Best Fare Finder section, often.

I know that Mother`s Day is approaching, and I don`t blame you for offering a few travel discounts around this time. And letting customers know with an email. You often use my first name when you mail me. It`s quite clever. And you did this time--with this wording:

`Jane, we`re not implying you forgot about mum. But just in case.....`

And that`s where the personal touch falls apart a bit.

You weren`t to know, of course, that I lost my precious mum more than 20 years ago, prematurely, from breast cancer, and that Mother`s Day can be a tricky time for me. But you should be able to guess that a fair proportion of the customers you`ve emailed with a similar message, have lost their mums, too, and so a `personal` hit feels a bit erm...inappropriate, and upsetting. All of us know that there are chocolates and cards and flowers on sale, and we wish everyone with a mum they can visit and hug on The Day, a lovely time.

But when you`re planning `personal` mailshots...sometimes, one size doesn`t `fit all`. And now I`ve had to spend ten minutes writing a blog about this to get it off my chest, instead of booking train tickets to Birmingham.On Trainline. Oh well.

Just feed that back to your marketing team, please.

Thanks. Nothing personal.








We're still embarrassed but definitely feel better that you've accepted our apology. Thanks and lesson learnt! Vikki









Monday, 24 February 2014

Strangers on a train



Have you ever seen someone on a train...and wished you`d said something?

I`m damn sure I saw the director Jonathan Miller on the Northern Line yesterday. Or maybe it was because I`d just seen a picture of him in the new Bailey`s Stardust photography exhibition and *thought* it was him.

I often sit on trains and wish I had the courage to start a conversation. Yeh, ok, sometimes it might be : `Get your bloody boots off that seat `. But it might be that you just really like their scarf or something. Or find that you`re both screwing up your noses at the torrential rain hammering against the window. Maybe they look a bit sad and lonely, and you want to ask what`s wrong.

It`s tricky, isn`t it? They might think you`re completely bonkers. (Though, frankly, if I found myself on the 7.39 and David Morrissey was across the table from me, I might just take a punt).

Is it a `British` thing? Do we worry that, once we start the conversation, it`ll be like removing the Pringles lid....one *POP*...and they just won`t stop? See--the thing is--they could be lovely. A friend for the future, maybe. A soulmate, even. Someone with a really interesting story to share.

Either way, it`s too late now. But maybe there should be just one day a year where you can deliver a one-liner to someone on the train without worrying about whether it`ll be met with tears, a three hour monologue, or a smack in the teeth. And of course....you have to be ready for the one-liners you`re going to get back.

So OK...let`s pretend that day was yesterday, in London, on the two Tube trains I travelled on, or the mainline trains back home.

1) To the gorgeous four year old girl sitting next to me on the Northern Line in a tartan coat, with a McDonald`s Happy Meal: "I`m starving. I know I`m a complete stranger and you`re not allowed to talk to me...but your mum`s not looking. So can I nick a chip? "

2) To `Jonathan Miller` at Euston underground: (I`m SURE it was him): "Hello. Blimey; you`re Jonathan Miller, aren`t you? I`ve just seen a great picture of you in the Bailey exhibition at the National Portrait Gallery. Did you like it, too? How great does it feel to be up on the wall with so many other famous faces? Oh...do you mind people coming up to you on the platform and asking you questions? "

3) To the very sleepy bloke on the train somewhere near Goodge Street, with a backpack and a Sombrero: "What`s that for, then? It`s pissing down outside. Hold up--you`re not just back from Mexico or something, are you? Tell me you didn`t buy that as a gift..."

4) To the parents of three kids travelling from Euston: "Sounds like you`ve had a brilliant weekend. You look knackered. Has your little lad been playing up a bit? You`re really worrying about what other passengers think. But he looks so bright and lively.And some of his comments have really brightened my journey. You look like a lovely family "

5) To the young woman with an orange coat. "Please, please...for the love of God, stop sniffing."

OK. *Adopts brace position *. Your turn.

Happy travelling :)

Comments:

I once asked a crowd of rowdy Irish rugby fans for a can of their lager. 👍

My brother met his wife after speaking to her on a train so you never know what might happen!

I'm always wishing I'd said something. One should of grown out of being shy at my age surely ?!!

": Strangers on a train. Ever wish you'd said hello? "
!


 and  retweeted you

": Strangers on a train. Ever wish you'd said hello? " Great blog really enjoyed reading this & others



Thursday, 6 February 2014

A Baked Alaska day



You`ve eaten Baked Alaska, right?

You get icy ice cream and sponge, surround it with meringue, and shove it in the cooker. Crazy, but true.The ice cream has to emerge still icy and firm, even though it`s surrounded by piping hot (yet soft) meringue. A moment too long in the oven and it`s game over, basically. Get it right, though, and it`s sweet, and memorable.

I realised some time ago that you can have Baked Alaska days, too. The cold, ice creamy bits are those chilling or depressing experiences that can stop you in your tracks. Bad news, maybe. A cruel word. But then something happens on that same day: a gesture or a show of affection which warms and comforts you, so that, looking back, it`s all good.

Yesterday was pure Baked Alaska.

It started at Dad`s house. He`s in bed 24/7 now as his Alzheimer`s marches on. He needs help with everything. I love to see him, but it breaks my heart every time. I help to feed him but I always want to cry and sometimes do, standing beside this once strapping, now frail former royal bodyguard, as he waits meekly for the next spoonful.

Anyway, my sister and I popped in to see him at breakfast time because we were going out for the day, leaving him at home with his partner and his visiting carer. We were going to the funeral of a dear uncle, our late mum`s brother. Dad had known him well for many years.Vic was the same age as Dad, and died after a long struggle with ....Alzheimer`s. Dad didn`t ask why we were dressed in black, or where we were off to. And we didn`t say.

Your first glimpse of the coffin at a funeral is always the worst bit, isn`t it--your unwitting gasp; the sight of the people who are feeling the loss most painfully.The moment of farewell can be chilling. Numbing.

And somehow, even funeral days can improve as the minutes tick by. Hearty renditions of `Love Divine...`. Loving tributes. Shared memories. Warm hugs with dear family members you haven`t seen for ages.Yes, and a stiff drink can help. I`ve said before that you can`t choose your family, but if you could, this is the one that I`d choose. From baby Alex, to a dear Aunt who`s nearly ninety; we`d come to say goodbye to Vic, and hello again to each other; refreshing that common bond; and the unspoken understanding that we`re there for each other, and proud of each other.There were tears, and some uproarious laughter too. And out of the blue, Ted, an elderly relative I`d never met, whose stories were vital new pieces in the family history jigsaw.

So...a day with sadness, and the cold, hard reality of loss. And wrapped around it, the love of a special family, as cosy and comforting as a warm blanket in winter.










Monday, 20 January 2014

Spring sale at Normandy Cottage - come inside?


Still got a touch of post festive cabin fever? Longing for a different view on those glorious hill walks... or maybe jumping on the train for a day trip to Paris? This place... could be your base. And what's more, there's a spring sale on right now.

Our first ever sale means you could stay a week in this cosy, comfy Normandy hideaway for just £235 this February and March. It's a little three storey detached cottage in the tiny hamlet of Breel, right in the heart of Suisse Normande's prettiest walking and cycling country, but less than an hour from the Caen-Ouistreham ferry port.

And talking of boats, if you book with Brittany Ferries and stay here, you'll get a discount off your sailing.  

The cottage has had a busy first year of bookings, and some great feedback from guests. It's just up the road from the famous Normandy beauty spot, the Roche D'Oetre, and is perfect for two, (also a great solo escape if you just want to get away from everything. And everyone!) Almost everything you need is here waiting for you, so you can literally contact me....throw some clothes in a bag...and leave. That's how I love to travel. You too?

How about coming for a look around?

OK... this Normandy stone cottage is called Les Deux Sabots - probably something to do with the footwear the farm workers wore, way back when.There's even a tiny pair of clogs nailed to the front door, as a reminder.


Vino veranda looking down on garden
Opens out into large double!

Wooden steps lead up to the main front door and to the tiny vino veranda where you can sit out and have a bottle or two, or a cup of coffee and a quiet read, and another set of steps, in stone, lead back down from this level into the garden.



Step inside the front door and you're on the middle level of this three storey cottage. It's a beamed and full height sitting room, with a large, open log fire. plus two highly effective radiators (full central heating throughout) You'll find a couple of comfy sofas in cream/neutral shades, loads of gorgeous cushions and throws, and a dining table beside the shuttered window, overlooking gardens, Jacques' selection of chickens, geese and ducks... and apple orchards beyond.

One of the sofas opens out into a good size double bed, and you can curtain off this area if separate sleeping accommodation's needed on this floor. There's a neat flat screen TV, an i-pod dock, books, CDs, DVDs, maps, tourist guides... and the little orange vides greniers calendar which will tell you where to find these lovely jumble/carboot/fetes events throughout your stay - and all year.

Made up and ready.


There are open, twisting wooden steps up from the sitting room straight into the a large, light, airy bedroom, with the same neutral shades and a few splashes of blue. 

At one end there's the double bed and bedside tables and lamps, with a new wardrobe and chest of drawers, and at the other end, a Velux window overlooking those garden and apple orchard views, plus a little sofa and a wicker chest, perfect for you to put your feet up and read, or rest your morning breakfast tray. Your bed will be made up and ready for you with freshly laundered linen - no need to bring your own.


The other end of the bedroom...breakfast is served...?!




Breakfast table in the kitchen
OK, back down into the sitting room and there's another set of open, twisting wooden steps down into the beamed kitchen.  It's a bit lower in height than the other two floors, but has everything you need... including, as a thankyou for booking, your first couple of bottles of vino. There's a cooker and microwave, breakfast table and chairs, fridge and separate freezer, washing machine and tumble dryer. 

Also on this level are coat hooks and a utility store, the loo/shower room, and a lower door out into a tiny gravelled area and the lane beyond that. The three storey cottage is perfect for couples, and a secret, spacious escape for solos but has had one or two adults plus a couple of kids staying too. Bear in mind that the steps make it unsuitable for toddlers or if you're frail though - and the 'feel' of the place is pretty open plan.
From the veranda down into a private, sunny garden




The small, lawned garden, which is at the side of the cottage, is very private. There's a gravelled parking area and double gates, which open onto the lane, and a little garden store under the stone steps with a barbecue and chairs and a parasol or two. On the other side of the cottage is a second or alternative parking area, the open fronted stone garage/log store. It's on a private little lane with just five houses, one of them owned by the lovely Jacques and Annick, who, as you`ll hear, keep an assortment of chickens, ducks and geese (oh and you might hear from the donkey at the top of the lane too...! ) ...our neighbours seem to be almost self sufficient in poultry as well as fruit and veg, like so many other families in rural French communities.

The cottage boasts a lovely walnut tree - help yourself if you're there at the right time!

The lane leads straight into a network of footpaths and ramblers' routes - all just metres from the front door. This is a real beauty spot, and walkers, cyclists and horseriders amble past from time to time and sometimes ask how they can book a stay, which is nice!

Breel's bloomin' lovely - this was a cycling festival



The paths take you to some beautiful, steep, breathtaking scenery with stunning views, woodland routes and the occasional beautiful house along the way, some of them thatched. Just up the road is the Suisse Normande's famous Roche D'Oetre - you can stand on the cliff top and gasp at the sheer drop below and hear the rushing waters of the River Rouvre. Then scoff an ice cream at the restaurant/coffee shop adjoining the tourist centre there in late spring and summer months. Nice little gift shop, too.
There's also a (terrifying, frankly, but I don't like heights...) series of rope ride adventures through the forest, just up the lane, suitable for all ages from little children to adults - I've heard great reports about them!



The pretty village of Breel boasts a collection of stone houses and cottages, the Mairie's (mayor's) office with the French flag flying proudly outside, and the most beautiful 16th century Church - well worth a visit. Your fresh croissants and crusty baguettes (and a pastry or two for later...) are just a few minutes' drive away in the village of Segrie Fontaine, where there's also a butcher's shop, a little convenience store (avec vino, naturellement...) a hardware shop, a village school and church, and more lovely views.

I-spy a bar...in historic Falaise 


There are other little villages close by, offering a pizzeria and a couple of bars, other mini-supermarkets, and a beautiful cider farm run by a young family. You can buy apple and pear cider here - it's great to support them and brilliant to bring home a bottle or even a box or two for your friends. When you need bigger supermarkets, the larger towns of Flers and Falaise are only 15-20 minutes drive away.





Falaise is particularly rich in Normandy history - its castle with strong William the Conqueror connections is fascinating. The railway station at Flers (20 mins from the cottage ) takes you off to the coast in one direction (an easy beach day out at Granville) or straight into Paris if you head east. There's a train around 7am from Flers which gets you to the capital around 9 - plenty of time for a warm croissant, strong coffee and an entire day out in this fabulous city. Oh and the parking's free all day at Flers station, too.
Fromage at one of the great shops in nearby Flers

Both of those towns, and plenty of others,such as Conde Sur Noireau, have vibrant, bustling markets which are perfect for fresh fish, meat, fruit, veg, spices, pastries, cakes and most things you'll need to rustle up a French feast. Delicious.

Frites with your mussels? Honfleur is a beautiful day out 


The cottage is also well placed for visits to the cities of Caen and Rouen, Monet's Giverny, the Normandy landing beaches, dotted with stark, chilling reminders of conflict, the classy, chic coastal towns of  Honfleur (above), Deauville and Trouville, and further south, the chateau studded Loire Valley.


If it's spring and summer, check out a vide grenier or two, the French equivalent of a car boot sale (a different kind of clutter...really good fun to browse and haggle...). Most have coffee and hot, barbecue style food stalls with tables for a lunchtime re-fuel. Occasionally there'll be a band playing too, and even a little impromptu dancing...!

Pastries on board your Brittany Ferry (discounts available!)
Breel's within an hour of the ferry port at Caen-Ouistreham, with an excellent Brittany Ferries service to Portsmouth (ask me for a discount code if you're thinking of staying here, so you can get a quote online), with new, `no frills`  BF sailings to Le Havre, still within range. Or you might prefer to book the shorter, cheaper crossing from Dover to Calais and drive down to Normandy. You can choose dates and length of stay... from a night or two, to a leisurely few weeks - and there'll be a couple of bottles waiting for you on the kitchen table.You won't find the cottage on loads of holiday websites because just enough bookings to cover some bills and my vino/ fromage habit will do nicely, thankyou.

If you're not there, I almost certainly will be: out in the garden reading a book, walking the local footpaths, catching some rays in the garden or treating myself to a shot of city culture in Paris. Book a break? Bet you'll  love it as much as I do. 


Want to find out more? www.romanticnormandycottage.co.uk

@normandycottage on Twitter
@janemcintyre12   on Twitter
janemcintyre1@btinternet.com

Or call me: 07791 669889

PS: If you've found this through Twitter, could you possibly RT the link for me? Thankyou... or tell a friend about the place?  And did I mention that I LOVE travelling? In the UK as well as abroad... London especially but love seeing other cities and adore the coast. So... if you ever fancy swapping your apartment/house/cottage with Les Deux Sabots, then get in touch!

Thursday, 2 January 2014

Survival of the fittest?


I've just got back from my so called 'morning miles'. I headed out around seven thirty, when it was still dark, cold and damp. And then something happened which made me question whether there's actually any point in trying to keep fit at all.

I started a couple of years ago, running just one mile through the village. Then one of the fittest people I know, (morning Jo...) started coaching me on the 'couch to 5K' programme. All good.

A health blip meant I had to stop for a while, for some treatment. Then I got back out there. These days, I feel great and have more time, so I try a mix of running and walking four or five miles, as often as I can.

Today I ignored the gloom and was soon strolling, then speeding along to a ridiculous mix of Springsteen, the Stones, and some vintage soul. In fact, I felt so good, I even slowed down to let Kenny Rogers croon 'Lady' to me, just by the Shelton water tower.

I was about a mile and a half from home when I saw a bloke I know vaguely. Our kids went to school together. He was walking his dog, so I pulled the headphones off, grinned and asked if he'd 'survived Christmas' ok.

Bad choice of words. He had. But one of his children, it turned out, has been fighting cancer. The 'child' is now mid twenties, a lifelong runner, one of the kids that would bring everyone at sports day to their feet as they pounded round the track to another first place ticket, way ahead of the field. Young. Strong. Fast. Lean. And fit? The treatment's gone well, apparently, and they're hoping a scan soon will confirm things are improving.

But as the runner's dad walked away with his dog, I just wondered: 'what's the point?' If someone so much younger, leaner, fitter than most of us can get a knock on the door from the Big C, why bother? Same goes for any number of people you and I know. Too young. Too careful with their diets, too conscientious with their lifestyles to fall foul of nasty diseases, surely.

And then they do.

I contemplated abandoning my run, strolling over to the bus stop and scraping the small change from my running belt into something like my fare home.

I glimpsed back and saw the runner's dad turn into his lane, shoulders down. I slammed my music back on loud, and ran the hardest and fastest I'd ever done, all the way home.

And so I'm here. Shaking a bit. Freezing now, and wrapped in a huge jumper and so dizzy I'm seeing stars.

I'm wondering what the answer is. For me, I think it's this. You can only do your best, and look after yourself as well as you can, and take responsibility for your own health. Even then, some people will smoke forty a day from the age of thirteen and die peacefully in their sleep at 103, with nary a cough. Good luck to them. Nobody 'deserves' cancer. It's a vile disease. Others will eat pies all day and carry the additional avoirdupois with them into their dotage, without a twinge or a palpitation. Hooray for them, too.

Meanwhile, some will live a textbook 'healthy' lifestyle, and get the worst news they could hear; early doors. Life ain't fair. It turns horrible right-angles sometimes. So do what makes you happy. And live for today.

What do you reckon?

The sun's shining now, by the way. Have a good day.

Comments:

This one from a friend of mine who's being treated for breast cancer:  1One of the people I see in the waiting room when I go for radiotherapy is a little lad of no more than about 5, with no hair. Chirpy little fella. Always on his iPad, playing games. Cancer's just so bloody indiscriminate1.

Netherton Foundry has left a new comment on your post "Survival of the fittest?":
That's a tough one - I think we each have to do what feels right for us, whilst taking responsibilty for our lives and our wellbeing. Cancer is non discriminatory, but we can't use that as an excuse not to take care of ourselves

nice one Jane :)