Dear all, and others,
I haven’t done this thing for a long time, writing and all that stuff, so here goes. It’s been a busy year; I was in Cornwall near Christmas time and in London for New Year. In February I was in Costa Rica and most of May I was in Peru and I had a couple of trips down to Bournemouth to see Mumsy and her enormously fat husband. I had my fiftieth birthday in Amsterdam, a cocktail party that went on till eight in the morning. I’m off to the Cropredy Festival in a couple of days to do a spot of camping in a tent and crapping in the woods, drinking too much and wobbling around in the mud.
My last check up didn’t go to well. My cancer was getting lonely on its own so it’s grown a few new friends. I’m now at stage four, there is no stage five. This is not the best news I’ve ever had and I have to say I’ve gone right off this dying lark. Dr Death recommends another course of chemo therapy but says there is only a fifty fifty chance of it working. I’ll have to have a good chat with him about this as I don’t want to spend my last months being poisoned. I see him again on the seventh of September. I don’t feel too bad in my self apart from coughing too much and sometimes coughing up things that look like they escaped from a horror film. I still manage to drink more whisky than anybody I know, even fit people. My doctor told me to take one day at a time but that’s nothing new for me, I’ve been doing that for years. I’ve found a lovely epitaph in “Uncle Fred in Springtime” by P G Wodehouse, “I have gone blithely on, ever rising on stepping stones of dead whiskies and sodas to higher things”
Anyhow,
That’s all for now folks,
Love Steve.
