The most Christmassy programme ever?

I've watched Heston Blumenthal's Perfection series with mounting awe and childlike glee. This obviously isn't a cookery programme, it's an opportunity to watch the combination of artist, mad scientist, true English eccentric and shy little boy create something wonderful. Rarely has a programme captivated and left me as consistently open mouthed as this programme has.

The whole thing is utterly barmy. Of course it has it's critics, but they miss the point, this is not about conspicuous consumption, he's not telling us to head off to Oman to whittle Frankincense spoons for Christmas, he's making a piece of entertainment. His restaurant is about experience, it has the underlying philosophy that food is more than just taste, it is evocative and all the senses are involved.

That's why the programme works so well, because he takes you to the table through your TV. Watching that celebrity Christmas dinner party eat the meal was almost as good as eating it (atually I'm certain that's not true as it looked like a slightly otherworldly experience), their reactions were so pronounced and profound that you felt how good it was. It's rare I get all effusive, but I'm afraid good food always has done it for me, it's all about the atmosphere, this is the first programme probably since Floyd's that recreates that fabulous eating experince and you get it right through the screen.

Alright, I'll stop talking bollocks now.

Get in

Still a townie at heart

I read this from Caitlin Moran this morning and it made me smile from ear to ear. I can't help but agree with her. City sounds have always been a comforting thing for me and remain so now that I've moved out. There's nothing like a thumping bass, or someone shouting 'eeeeeenin stanit' in your ear. They're noises that make you feel you haven't lost all sense of life.

Amazing BCR/ABL results

I went to my appointment with some trepidation yesterday. Although things have been going well with my treatment, everything I've been told so far is with regards to my Haemotological status and as good as it is to know that my blood counts are normal, it's always at the back of my mind that the old style drugs could achieve the same results. However with the new drugs, the disease should be affected at a molecular level.

Up until yesterday I didn't know how my cytogenetic response was? In short this is the molecular response i.e. is the Imatinib inhibiting the signal and stopping the mutation taking place.

Anyway the short answer is yes the new drug's working and in absolute spades. My BCR/ABL score has gone down from 107% to 8%. Don't ask me to explain what this means, because my consultant told me twice and I still haven't got a clue. However, she said that she would hope for a response like this after 6 months and actually it's occurred in 3. She has however warned that it may not shift at all in the next 3 months and may in fact bobble about a bit and this is just the way individual people respond to the drug.

Ultiimately they want to get me down to a tiny fraction of a percent at which point they can claim molecular remission, so I've got 15 months to wipe out this 8% and I'm going to try bloody hard at it.

So how's the leukaemia?

Well it's alright thanks. I've been living with it for 4 and a half months now and we're rubbing along alright. As I've said all along, it hasn't actually made me ill at all. So in many ways I feel a complete fraud and this is where the problem comes. I rarely think about the disease that I'm riddled with, but unfortunately I am forced to confront it every monring as I take my oral dose of Gleevac. Luckily, I forget to take it at the right time sometimes (normally at the weekends), but I've only missed one daily dose in the 3 months I've been on it. I say luckily, because to me it suggests that the disease isn't on my mind constantly. However, I do feel unsettled by my normal life.

I've recently started seeing a cancer counsellor, who works as part of the Dimbleby foundation and discussed my issue and my getting on with normal life. Oddly - despite my dignosis - 2007 has been the best year I've had for several. Home is settled, work is as stressful as it needs to be to be stimulating, the kids are great and everything I have strived to acheive has started to come together for us as a family over the last 12 months. And here's where my unsettled feeling comes in. Why the fuck haven't I woken up screaming and expected my life to end? Why don't I constantly think about dying? Why do I not look at my children and weep? Am I really as ill as they tell me at the hospital?

I don't know.

Apparently this is a perfectly normal reaction to cancer, some people do fall apart, but then others just say, 'oh alright then' and get on with things. I guess I'm one of the latter, however it does make me feel like a fraud - there's that word again.

My friends have been fantastic and offered endless help, but we haven't actually taken any of them up - because we haven't needed to. Fraud.

My company has said I can take as much time as I need. Apart from my hospital appointments, I've taken none. Fraud.

People ask me how I feel - I feel fine - I am fine. Fraud.

My wife is - on accassion - in bits, I'm holding it together. Fraud.

I'm fitter now than I have been for 10 years. Fraud.

I've actioned a critical illness claim which is likely to get paid out. Fraud.

I'm 4 stone lighter than I was 18 months ago and I worked bloody hard to get that weight off, but a little voice says, 'yeah but the Leukaemia must have helped'. Fraud.

Physically I'm fine, mentally things are quite difficult. The difficulty is the uncertainty. The Gleevac data suggest that I may be in remission in 12 months and continue to be so in 5 years time. My consultant tells me that they have no reason to believe that this shouldn't continue ad infinitum. So I therefore become the equivlent of a diabetic who takes insulin every day - constantly medicated but fine.

But no one can tell me that that is going to happen. My life is literally uncertain.

Cunt. It's what it deserves. Pernicious, parasitic cunt. You know what maybe it isn't alright.

Things I learnt at the weekend

Never give an 18 month old - with a penchant for throwing food - a bowl of blackberry and apple crumble.

Things to do in the airport when you're bored

Right so here I am it's 7.30ish and my flight to Edinburgh has been delayed by 4 hours. I'm currently an hour and half into my delay and I'm quickly running out of things to do.

I've read:

- The Times
- The Telegraph
- Half of Private Eye

But for some reason I just can't get into reading when I'm in this kind of halfway purgatory. Now time was that I'd go to the Oyster bar and get pissed on champagne but a) the fucking oyster bar's gone and b) I can't drink on these bloody pills becuase they make me feel like shit (That's a whole other post)

So here I am sitting in a departure lounge that's emptying around me gradually, trying to play beat the clock on the pay for internet. (I'm not paying more than £2 for this). I now know how Span must feel in his far flung lounges tapping away. Yes I know you don't do that Span, it's just i'm trying to mthink of things.

Right off to Facebook now.

Aaaarrrrrghhhh!! I'm trapped in internet hell.

The evil of Facebook

I've just spent 3 hours on there. Ahhhhhhhh!! I love and hate the internet so much.Click if you dare.

Is anyone having problems loading the blog...

...or is it just Span and his shonky South American dial up connections.

Blimey

Louis top, Eben bottom.

Well I promised photos so here goes - First of errr some scroll for more

Heeeeeerre's Louis. Thing is with Lou is if you put him in pink he'd easily pass as a girl

Ebs

Oh and Joan his preschool leader, the most wonderful woman you'll ever meet.

The Grandparents

That's Nic's mum (Nana) with Anthony Gormley and my Step-Mother (Granny) at Eben's graduation.

Eben and Daddy

Otherwise known as achingly proud Dad. By the way, we went to the Star Wars exhibition for us not them.

The pox

This was taken today. God knows how but these don't seem to be bothering him.

And last it's us

I think this is probably the only shot of us all together that exists.

Aaaaaaand breathe

We've been a bit busy. Actually that's an understatement, we've been running around like people possessed, but finally I think we're about to hit a bit of a clear run.

We finally moved, but part of the issue is that Nicky's been taking Eben back to preschool in Streatham, which is an hour and a quarter each way. We felt it best from a continuity perspective for him to finish along with all the other kids at the end of term, rather than him being spirited away at the end of one week. I'm glad we made the decision, because he's had his fun day and graduation ceremony (funny little 3 and 4 year olds running around in paper mortar boards and scrap material gowns) all of which bring a finality to things which I think will really benefit him, but it has added to the timelessness of everything.

The move went well, we're now fully paid up Reigatians and without doubt moving out is the best decision we've ever made. My mind was made up when I was running in the woods behind our house and my path was crossed by a startled roe deer.

Although we did an awful lot of research about where we were going to move to - in fact it took us a year trawling around the country to all sorts of different locations as far afield as South Manchester - I don't think we quite realised just what an unbelievable location we'd chosen. When we decided on the exact set of streets in Reigate we knew it was 5 minutes to walk to the town centre, to nthe boys prospective school, to the preschool, to the rugby club, to the cricket club and to the woods. All in different directions, but everything on hand.

However the woods has become an utterly magical place for me. My running has become something I look forward to with glee and think about almost constantly. The woods are set at the bottom of Colley Hill with Pilgrim's Way running at the foot of the North Downs and the North Downs Way running across the top of the ridge. In fifteen minutes I can run up the 200 metre elevation from top to bottom and stand at what seems to me like the top of the world and look across the Mole Valley to the whole of South Surrey and into Sussex, it's quite the most incredible buzz I've ever had. Now to put this in to perspective it's still one of the most populus places in the country, the M25 runs about 400 metres behind the North Downs way at that point and as close as 50 metres at some points further along and this aint the wilds of Highland Scotland, but for a South London boy, who was worried about moving out, it feels like the wilds of the Himalayas. I feel like I've won the lottery without realising I'd even bought a ticket.

I've finally bought a new road bike which will cope with the climb to work, but when I was buying it, it struck me that i really ought to get a mountain bike as well so that I can ride some of the trails out the back. They're well worn routes used by mountain bikers and it would mean i could explore a lot more than on foot. It pretty arduous running with the hills and boggy old bridlepaths and I've only got about 7 miles - and that was circular - without being absolutley knackered, plus it takes bloody ages and I wouldn't fancy getting stuck down some woody footpath after dark.

Nicky and the boys are loving it as well, Nicky's been out running alot, which really isn't her passion at all. But, it's the fact that everything's in touching distance during the day, without having to haul the boys in and out of the car to get everywhere that she's loving. I think once she's stopped hacking up and down to school 4 days a week and gets time to sit still and find things to do with the boys during the week she'll be loving it even more.

I am looking forward to things settling down a bit, which once summer is over should help (we're away for 4 1/2 out of the next 6 weeks). We've got some great neighbours, lots of kids the same age as Eben and Louis, so loads of opportunities for friends and plenty of babysitting potential (hoorah).

In terms of me and the leukaemia, well we're getting on great. Well... I'm getting on great and the pernicious little bastard is starting to bugger off. My reaction to the Gleevac - which you may remember as the very targeted chaemotherapy/gene alteration treatment - has been superb, my blood counts came down to within a normal range within 4 weeks and they normally aim to have that sorted within 3 months and we are now into monitoring my BCRable count. Bascially this is a measure of the presence of the mutated gene in my bloods. I started out at 20/20 and the idea is to get that count down to 0/20 or undetectable. This is the point at which they can class me in molecular remission. My next measure of this is in early September, but in the meantime my clinic appointments are down from once a week to once a month which is fantastic news and apart from a sickness bug I picked up which took a little longer to clear up than it should have I have been fine.

As you can tell from above my training is back in full swing, I've been given the all clear to swim again which i haven't been able to do for 3 mnths for fear of infection. I'm probably over-doing it actually, but that's cancer or no-cancer, not because of the cancer itself. However what's heartening is I'm seeing my fitness levels increase on a weekly basis and prior to my diagnosis it didn't matter what I was doing I simply couldn't get beyond a certain point. So I'm definitely back aiming to do a triathlon, although I'm not sure I'll get one in before the end of the year now, so I'll have to wait until the season starts again next year, which isn't so bad as I'll be absolutely ready by then.

And that's me, I still haven't posted any pictures of the boys and I will do that in the very near future, I might include one of Louis's absolutely horrendous chicken pox that he's just getting over at the moment.

Don't panic, don't panic!!

I had a good day yesterday and a shitty night.

We've started to gradually pack up the house to move. Well actually we've started to clear away all the crap that's accumulated, that we haven't got round to doing anything with for the past 3 years, so that we can then start packing. You know how it is.

Anyway that lasted about an hour and a half until I started putting on CDs and Nic and I got dancing until around 11ish. Built up a fair old sweat we did, listening to classic tunes (from 2003/4) and then we went to bed.

I'd noticed on my ride back from work and when I'd been dancing that my spleen was giving me some jip, which is to be expected because your spleen helps in the over-production of white blood cells and swells up as a result. On top of that being off my drugs for a week has been nagging away at me. I keep wondering what's going on, how this things eating away at me with nothing to fight against it. How it might be affecting me.

It must have been nagging away at me much more than I realised because at 12.30 having gone to bed and fallen asleep - uncomfortably because i didn't want to lie on my spleen side - I woke up in a muck sweat and very short of breath. I'd been half expecting the nightsweats to return, as this was what alerted me to the fact something wasn't right in the first place, but they really came back with a vengeance. I was sat on the edge of the bed blowing manically and dripping wet, very disoriented and starting to get panicky, because all my focus went to my spleen and suddenly it felt like it was the size of a football. So I got up clutching my side and went down the corridor and sat on the loo for a couple of minutes then got back up again.

After a couple of minutes I got my composure back and stareted thinking you'll be fine, you're OK, it'll pass, breathe deeply, breathe deeply, breathe deeply and gradually I came out of the panic and I stopped sweating and once I relaxed I was left just with my spleen hurting.

I dropped in to the hospital this morning just to check that everything definitely was OK and I got a clean bill of health - well comparitively - however my registrar said to me.

'Are you back at work yet?'

'Errr, well yeah, I haven't actually taken any time off'

'Reeeeaally?'

'Well no, I haven't really felt the need to, to tell you the truth. I did go on holiday for a few days afterwards'

'Yeah but you had that booked already. Have you taken any time for yourself, to adjust to things?'

It was a question that threw me slightly, because I haven't taken any time for myself to adjust. It's made me think maybe I should take some time off. I consider myself fairly honest to myself and to those around me. When people have asked 'How are you?' and I've answered 'Fine under the circumstances', I don't think I've lied yet. I don't think I've yet put a front on for anyone. Now that could mean one of two things:

1. I'm fine and adjusting to things gradually and feeling fine

2. I'm in denial, feeling fine, but one of these days I'm going to breakdown and be a wreck

I can't help but feel that it's most likely to be the former. I've never been scared of a bit of therapy or taking time when I need it. I'm no longer someone who puts everything else in front of my well being. Equally, I don't consider myself a shirker either, I always front up.

But it got me thinking. Last night was a bona fide panic attack, it may well have been about a specific issue but nevertheless there's something going on up there, so I've agreed to get in touch with the psychotherapists that are attached to my Haematology unit, to talk things through with them.

I am however going to continue going to work as normal. I don't think it would do me any good to take time. I'm not sure what I'd do. The boys are at home during the day, so it's not like I'd get time to myself to think (I mean that in the nicest way) therefore I'm not sure it would serve the purpose.

And I've tried going away on my own before. I planned to go away hiking on my own for 4 days in the Peak District. At the end of the first day's yomping I headed home, walked through the door, walked in on Nicky, who had 2 friends to stay and when she asked:

'I thought you'd gone away to find yourself'

I said:

'Yeah I did. But I found myself a bit dull, so I thought I'd come home'

I then headed off to Kings Cross, clubbing with 2,000 other people.

I'm definitely better around other people.

Slightly frustrating

Well 5 weeks in I'm feeling very well considering. I got a rather lovely note from my Aunt a couple of days ago and in writing to her I've kind of written a blog entry.

I'm still cycling in to work every day, I have stopped running though as I have found my current drug regime is making me quite tired. A couple of weeks ago I found out that I am Philadelphia Chromosome positive (PC+). Being PC+ means I am able to take Imatinib, which you may remember is the drug that aims to switch off the signal to overproduce white blood cells. Rather frustratingly I won't be able to start the new regime until 29th May for a variety of reasons. First I had to have some virology tests, second I had to freeze sperm, as the drug is suspected to make sperm toxic and in the event that we wish to have another baby it's likely we will have have to go the IVF route.

Having completed those two things I was supposed to start my new regime on Tuesday, however on seeing my consultant she informed me that she's keen to perform a stem cell harvest. It was a decision that was both disappointing and heartening in equal measure. Disappointing in that I was keen to get on with things and heartening in that the decision suggested that my consultant is right at the forefront of fighting the disease. In brief a stem cell harvest is performed at this stage in order to freeze store my white blood cells at the stage of the disease I am at currently. This is performed in case the disease progresses, at which point they will be able to replace the deteriorating white blood cells with the stored cells at this stage. The main debate is around whether to take cells now, or once I am on the new drug and it has proved successful in reversing the disease to molecular remission i.e. the cells are in much better shape than now. At present there is no clear agreement in the profession, so my consultant has decided to take one set now and one in 18 months time, at which point (hopefully) I'll be in much better shape. The issue is clouded by financial constraints, in that there has to be a justification on the trust's part to store two sets of stem cells on my behalf, however at this stage there is no real pressure on this area of treatment. However, in future I may be asked to make a decision as to whether I pay to store one set.

Anyway, the reason I couldn't switch regimes on Tuesday was that I have to be completely drug free for two weeks. It means I have to come off the regime I am on currently as well, which in it's own right is frustrating as it had succeeded in lowering my white blood cell count from 143 to 92 in 4 weeks (target 4 to 8) and by coming off the drug it will more than likely jump back up to the initial level.

Despite all this, I am remaining generally positive. I am having my low moments which I guess is perfectly normal, but the boys keep us extremely busy and the fantastic side effect of this situation is that it's prompted us to get off our arse and do, rather than talk about doing any number of activities. We've also got the move pending which means we've got plenty on generally. Nicky's a bit more up and down and quite angry about things in general, but I guess once again that's normal. We will take this as an opportunity to make the most of what we've got and make sure we squeeze every last ounce out of life.

This may be a little bit early...

...But I'm going to post this anyway.

Wednesday before last- so that would be 5th April 2007 - I was diagnosed with Chronic Myeloid Leukaemia. It's not something you expect to find out at 34 really.

The Thursday before that I'd gone to my GP and complained of nightsweats. I'm not talking a little bit of moisture here I'm talking soak the duvet through from top to bottom. At first he said that this was something that could be completely random and unexplainable, but after discussing what I might be able to prevent them from happening he suggested I come in for some blood tests.

So up I rocked and had the routine tests and then at 7pm that evening I got a rather panicky phone call from my GP.

'Errr errr you've got to go to St Thomas's tomorrow at 9.30am they're expecting you. You've got a very, very high White Blood Cell count'

'Ummm Ok, what does that mean then?'

'Well they think you have leukaemia. So they need to test you again. Do you have any questions?'

Now I've since found out the GPs are likely to come across about 5 cases of leukaemia in their entire career so this phone call isn't the most common they make during their working life, nevertheless I can't imagine how she could possibly have handled it any worse other then screaming 'you're going to die, you're going to die, oh pity your children, you're going to diiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeeeeeee'

Anyway my response was stunned silence followed by 'No not really, I have no idea what to ask'

'Errr ok, well if you have any questions I'm sure they'll be able to answer them tomorrow'

'Erm OK right, bye'

I came off the phone numb, my mind a complete blank and then when Nicky came down from putting the boys to bed I burst into tears. My next response was to ring my Dad who understandably was rather shocked and then I got on to the Internet. My searching lasted for about 5 minutes, at which point I realised that I could probably surf all night and still not come up with any answers based on the scant information I'd been given by my inept GP and so I waited. I slept well, but then I always sleep well regardless of what's going on in my life and the next morning I trooped off to St Thomas's with Nicky.

At 9.30 I sat down with a Registrar and she delivered the news. From the blood sample they had analysed they were 99% certain that I had Chronic Myeloid Leukaemia. My White Blood Cell count was 145 and it should be somewhere between 4 and 8. She then went on to say that they were going to run a whole raft of additional tests, more bloods, a bone marrow sample and bone trefanning which is taking a piece of bone from my hip for analysis in order to confirm diagnosis and also determine which treatment options were open. She then said, 'I'll admit if you'd presented 10 years ago we'd be telling you that you had 5 years, but things have moved on so rapidly that we're very confident we can tackle this very effectively. We've made fantastic strides and there are drugs now available that are proving extraordinarily successful in the fight against the disease'

The day flew by in an absolute whirr. I had a very uncomfortable procedure under local to take the bone, had half my blood drained and met my consultant who I can comfortably say is one of the most amazing people I've met in my life. She explained exactly what was happening. Basically (and some of this may be inaccurate and very brief as I'm new to this) two of my chromosomes have swapped to create what is called a Philadelphia Chromosome - basically it's a mutant. This Philidelphia Chromosome is in turn creating an enzyme which in it's turn is stimulating the creation of additional White Blood Cells. In itself having a huge amount of White blood cells is not the problem, it is more to do with the maturation of those cells or lack of in fact. Although she doesn't know she suspects I've probably had the condition for approximately 6 months judging by the number of non-maturing cells which are relatively few at this stage.

What that meams is that I'm in the first stage of three i.e. the Chronic phase - typically untreated this would last between 3 and 7 years, this would then turn in to the acute phase which could last between a year and 3 years and then finally it would transform into what is known as the 'Blast phase' which is around 6-9 months.

Now for the good news. 7 years ago NICE passed a drug for use in the UK going by the brand name Gleevac, the drug itself is Imatinib. It's effectively the first drug that has been developed to target the root cause of a cancer. What it does is aim to switch off the signal from the Philidelphia chromosome and thereby halt the over-production of White Blood Cells and eventually reduce the count back to normal i.e. between 4 and 8. At this point you can be counted as in remission and they can say they have achieved 'molecular cure'. That doesn't mean the cancer's gone but it does mean it is no longer having any effect. So if a patient in remission comes off the drug they will end up with the White Blood cell count going back up.

The stats I was given are thus. The drug can be used by those sufferers that are Philidelphia Chromosome positive of which 95% are. I've subsequently found out that I am one of those 95% and of those 95% - 80 to 90% are in full remission, this is based on the 5 years of data that they have available since the drug was introduced. I have to say if I had to have cancer I don't mind those odds, they're pretty fucking good. What they can't tell me obviously is whether those patients will remain in remission, however, they have said there is no reason to think that this trend won't continue and that is certainly how our mindset should be.

At the end of the day I was put on to a drug called Hydroxycarbamide, this was the drug that pre-dated Imatinib and is a much more generic drug - effectively it aims at reducing the White Blood Cell count by blasting the cells but does not have the molecular changing properties of Gleevac (again this is a desperately basic description of what iot does). I will be going on to Gleevac after a couple of things are cleared up. First, I have to make a sperm donation as the Imitnab will make my sperm toxic and second I have to make a decision about whether to enter an ongoing international trial - which I'm not going to expand on just now - but basically I have to decide how many side effects I'm willing to put up with.

As it stands 2 weeks later I'm in pretty fine fettle under the circumstances - I had 6 days away with friends over Easter which really helped to clear the head, I'm at work (who have been very supportive), I'm still cycling - at least until the side affects of the drugs kick in (which will be a rough ride for up to 3 months by all accounts), the kids are good, Nicky's sister and parents are down for a week and a half so she has a lot of support, my step mother has decided to put off her search for a new job to be available whenever we need her until we find our feet and on and on.

I have to say I'm very glad I'm in this situation having got myself thin and fit and without the hassle of running my own company anymore. Any time in the previous 8 years I would have been in a far worse state. We're also 2 months off moving out of London. So alot of the traditional 'where's my life going' thoughts have been negated because we're in the middle of changing it for what we believe will be a far better life for us and the boys.

All in all if shit like this was going to strike it couldn't have done it at a better time and as I said to my dad the day I was fully diagnosed 'Actually you know what, Bollocks to it, I'm not having it, I've got too much on'

Traumatic road traffic accident

I stood as a witness today at the inquest for the motorcyclist that I saw die in late August. It was a very strange experience all in all, I'm not going to go in to all the details, but needless to say just as we thought at the time the set of circumstances that led to his death were a trillion to one shot and it really was a case of wrong place at the wrong time for the poor guy who died. No one did anything that isn't executed a million times a day on Britain's roads, no one was speeding (or anywhere close to it), no one had been drinking, no one saw the bike until the very last minute all in all it was a tragedy.

Having said all that I may yet have to attend court again this time magistrates as the taxi we were in could be prosecuted for leaving the scene of an accident. It was very odd having to sit in the same room as him knowing that he'd initially denied that he'd been there at all, a stance he changed when they produced CCTV evidence.

We'll just have to wait and see.

From Langley Park to Tooting

So there I am climbing in to my brother's car and in the passenger side pocket there's the clearly identifiable font that appears on the back of Prefab Sprout's, From Langley Park to Memphis. I reach over excitedly open the CD case and my hopes are dashed as I'm confronted by an empty jewel case. So I switch on the engine and joy of jos it's in the CD player.

I'd completely forgotten about this album, but it really is pure pop perfection. Now consider that when it was released in 1988, The Pixies were just about to release Surfer Rosa which is by the way my favourite album of all time. I wasn't in the slightest bit embarassed about loving this record.

Rather oddly though, for some reason as I was driving along listening to cars and girls it brough back huge memories of my 3rd Year ski trip which isn't possible as that was in March 1987 a year before this was released and anyway 'Money for Nothing' by Dire Straits (I hated it even then) was the sound of the trip, but nevertheless my memory log is malfunctioning and I can now remember things about that trip away that I'd completely forgotten about.

To end:

Brucies thoughts - pretty streamers
- guess this world needs its dreamers may they never wake up.

It's a lovely lyric I always thought.

Very very tired

I haven't enjoyed work so much in a very long time but God I'm tired, it's not so much long hours although we have a big pitch on this week and I've been putting in the time, it's more the intensity of it. Doesn't help that I'm now on to my third different illness of the year. I just can't seem to shake them off. I've only cycled in 3 times since the New Year. With luck this weather will kill things off.

Happy New Year

Anyone for a Cadbury Creme Egg.

Ridiculous isn't it.