OK, so tomorrow is going to be a bit weird. What you have to understand is that once you enter the world of cancer and beyond, all sorts of things, good and bad, happen to you. Some are outside of your control, some are new opportunities which present themselves and are to be grabbed, albeit with a modicum of ‘am I really doing this?’ thrown in for good measure. We all know about the dragon boat racing, the racing at Goodwood, the Maggie’s choir, going to the House of Lords and appearing on tv but this latest escapade beats them all in just sheer derring do. Oh, I do like an old-fashioned phrase.
You know how in life you might have a friend who is just a bad influence, or the one who always is there if you’re getting into scrapes of some kind? Well, sometimes I AM that friend but this time it is my friend Suzannah who got me into this one. It started with an innocent email and has snowballed into a scary, public airing of my chest.
I am going to have a plaster cast made of my remaining breast and the other, empty, side. It’s a collaboration of people including Keep a Breast, The Breast Movement and Hello Love Studio. I will be cast tomorrow by a lovely lady called Jane who will have an enormous supply of plaster strips and an equally big sense of humour, I hope. Once I am cast, I will be tidied up and an artist will decorate me. The range of potential artists is quite long and includes the usual suspects who might contribute to the RCA Secret sale. I am then going to be on tour for maybe a year. There will be fundraising events, including, somewhat bizarrely, a table tennis tournament, and I will be there, looking down on everyone in my artistically decorated state. At the end of my tour (a bit like my Royal Progress, I suspect), I will be able to take myself home and find somewhere suitable to display myself. It’s all a bit strange, really. Last year they cast Katy Perry amongst others and then sold the busts for charity. Clearly they either think no-one will want the mis-shapen and non-celeb or they are just being kind in letting us have them back. I think the latter.
The first thing I think of when I think of plaster casting is the infamous Cynthia Albritton who cast the -er- appendages of rock stars from the late 1960’s onwards. Apparently you can still buy limited editions of the casts with Jimi Hendrix’ being the most expensive. I guess it’s a good pension for an ageing groupie but not something I’d want decorating my home. Come to think of it, where will I put ME when I’m done touring?
Another hang over from cancer treatment is the dire state of my nails. OK, so it’s a bit of a change of subject but still something which is painful and vexing. My right thumb nail is so short it has shorn off waaaay below the normal level. It hurts! The nail bed is hot and puffy and I tried to take a photo of it to gain maximum sympathy but I am right-handed and couldn’t take a non-fuzzy shot so you’ll just have to imagine it. And feel sorry for me. Please.