It’s been a while since I blogged and the consequence of that is I receive emails asking why I am not blogging, so much so that it is easier to blog than reply to all the post. And it’s lovely to know people miss me when I’m gone. Actually, I haven’t really been anywhere except on a trip to London for a Hula Hoop meeting. Following the scandal from the last meeting I attended (low calorie Hula Hoops vs the normal kind) we have ditched Jaffa Cakes and gone with my suggestion of Tunnocks Tea Cakes. They are not a hit. Someone thinks they have jam in the middle which, of course, they don’t. It’s Chocolate Mallows that have jam in them. So now I am tasked to find a new cake/biscuit which we will all like, which is individually wrapped and easy to transport. Any suggestions gratefully received.

We have lovely friends to stay and the dogs are over the moon by the attention, sausages and belly rubbing they receive. Our last guests are Ms Marsden and Ms Howard and they are fabulous, helping out in the kitchen, easy to entertain and extremely generous with hugs and butter dishes. The weather is really hot so we spend a morning on the beach, paddling and collecting shells. Also avoiding a man with a huge, agressive dog and his huge, aggressive family. They look like the sort who are looking for trouble and for a while we are identified as IT. It is beautiful on the beach, though, unlike the horrible family who continue giving us ‘evils’ for the rest of our stay. We decide they will all suffer from a dreadful polyester heat rash in their most intimate places together with bad sunburn through the holes in their string vests and that satisfies me. We visit antique shops, have lunch in a pub garden and manage to fit in a visit to the Chocolate Drop, the best chocolate shop in the world. They have single estate chocolate and a huge number of flavours in dark, milk and white. They are also extremely generous in the samples they give. If you visit us, you should put it on your list.

Monday sees me back at Lincoln having chemotherapy. This time I am put in proximity to other patients, a woman having her first treatment who laughs nervously and brushes it off as if it is nothing and a woman who faints when the nurse tries to take blood from her. When the nurse comes back to try again, I distract her (the patient, obviously) by showing her the tapping technique from EFT and she manages to give blood this time without passing out. The following morning, Mr Mason leaves early to go and visit Mr and Mrs Mason Snr. Mrs M Snr has been displaying signs of Dementia and it’s something we can’t leave. Without siblings, Mr Mason has to go and help make some decisions, even though his cousin has been doing sterling work by visiting every week. This leaves me with Dog and Lark who cry when he leaves. I feel horrendous after chemo so my 2 days in bed dissolve in front of me and I get up and pretend I feel normal. Our gardener, Gavin, calls on the second day and arranges to come round to see if there is anything he can do. Obviously I have a manic spate of cleaning and tidying so he doesn’t think I’m a lazy cow and then we spend an hour and a half chatting about all sorts of stuff. He’s a good man.

The dogs play me up. They try to play in the house (strictly forbidden due to size) and Lark goes back to square one with her house training which Dog complains about. Instead of resting in bed and sleeping, I am up and down stairs repeatedly. Lark has developed a passion for cauliflower stalks (raw) which she pesters me for and when they get through her digestive system, the smell is horrendous. Dog needs lots of cuddling. I attempt to bribe them for some quiet time with treats. A Jumbone each in the morning and a couple of pig’s ears in the afternoon. Lark has decided the best thing to do with most treats is bury them. If she’s not in the garden, she buries things in the house. I go to put a load of washing on and find a pig’s ear (partly chewed) in amongst the dirty washing. Later on she whips out a Jumbone from somewhere and Dog looks peturbed as to why he has not been given one. Explaining that he ate his in the morning does not compute. There is another pig’s ear in amongst the clean duvet covers waiting to be put away. Another stuffed into a backpack flap. These are not individual ones; they are being recycled like she’s a spy on the run.

So I will have one more night of naughty dogginess this week when Mr Mason spends a night in London for a meeting and then we’re back to normal. I’m tired, not sleeping well and worrying about each and every temperature I get but all in all, doing well. It seems my temperature increases a few days after chemo and it’s difficult to decide whether it’s a hospital matter or a ‘sleep it off and see how it goes’. My oncologist favours the former and gives me a big lecture about what might happen if I don’t go to hospital and how long I might have to stay. As usual, I manage a few tears. “I didn’t mean to make you cry” he says, kindly. I explain I cry at just about everything and I think I see him make a note.

On the subject of notes – Note to guests – check bedding for pig’s ears.