The second week in the sun passed all too quickly. Time was enjoyably filled up with a boat trip, visits to the beach, walks with the dogs, cycle with friends, and just generally catching up. It would have been good to have spent longer, but clearly we had to get back to reality, and count down to the days to chemo orientation, and then session 1 of chemotherapy itself. On our last night, I took time out to meet my running club, though didn't actually go running, and then had a triumphant pub quiz return, winning by a sizeable margin, and crushing our nemesis in the process. Baron de Coubertin and I have a difference of opinion when it comes to quiz nights.
So, Thursday morning came around, and we began the trek home. A journey that would actually take until Monday tea-time, not due to horrific travel woes, rather the somewhat tortuous route we had in store. The first task of the day was, for me, the saddest. I had to drop the dog back off at a friend's house, knowing it would be 4 or more months before I got to see her again. Before I became a dog-person, I had no idea how attached I would get to a pet. Fully understandable to those that know, seemingly oddball behaviour to those that don't. Anyways, I gave her one last hug and off I went. Friday morning brought us to Heathrow, and we cabbed it across town to a friend's house (the one who kindly continues to lend us her car). Normally after a transatlantic flight I resist any urge to sleep in the day. Today? Sod it. We crashed out and I was comatose until our friend got back from work. Bliss. She was headed to a concert with other friends from home, so we had a drink with them, then strolled down the Thames to meet other friends for a few hours, before going home and crashing once more.
After about 15 hours of sleep we finally stirred our stumps on Saturday, had brunch, and then journeyed on to see other friends for a joint 50th. Aside from the obvious joy in catching up with good friends we don't get to see anywhere near enough, the gem of this party was the live band doing a rockaroke set. Being tone deaf and an awful singer, I initially passed on this, but after a few G&Ts, I had a rethink, and decided to have a crack at
. More than anything else for the fact that it was the only one on the list I actually knew the lyrics to. Whilst I murdered it to some extent, albeit with old-school punk ethic, most other people had to lug phones or tablets up for their selections, so there was some element of pride in my effort.
Sunday meant another early start and a flight to Dublin. I was staying the night with a friend and his family, and heading to see New Order at Trinity College. The kick-off event of a busy July concert series for us. I had not seen much of Trinity's campus before, despite walking past it countless times over the past decade or more. It really is a stunning location. And even though outdoor festival events are not my preferred venue for gigs, this one was compact enough to be not so bad. I had seen them earlier in the year in Miami, and they were just as good as then. Then again, I would have been happy with an identical set-list and delivery: they have been my musical first love for many, many years, and I am easily pleased in this regard.
Monday morning I came into the office to see my Dublin-based colleagues. Well, at least the ones who were not themselves away on holiday. I had a few admin tasks to get done, and had a decent catch-up lunch before heading back to the airport. After a short flight and a drive, we were back at the house. Errands done, tea cooked, and then bed, ready to face cancer camp in the morning.
It all gets real this week, and we'll see how it goes. I am pleased to report the past couple of weeks have reinforced the huge support I have going into this next stage, and it is going to be needed.