52. Knowing me that light at the end of the tunnel, might just be lighting.

tunnel-2Between my last blog entry, which was only two weeks ago, things were being thrown at me thick and fast. All just a few days apart…

New Job

At the new job, on the first Friday of every month the newbies have to tell the rest of the teams a little about themselves. They also have to present two truths and a lie for the teams to try and guess the lie.

Mine were the following…

  1.  I was flashed twice, by an aristocrat, at a posh society wedding.
  2.  I used to fill missile heads with C4 plastic explosive, explode and then analyse     their  effectiveness for the Ministry of Defence.
  3.  I have a fully functional photobooth, that I built myself and that I hire out.

Which was the lie?

As well as the first Friday celebration the office has a continually filled free coke and diet coke fridge (why now after I have given it up eh?), fresh fruit deliveries twice a week (get in there early as only the brick hard pears and peaches are left over from the feeding frenzy), free tea and coffee and a rota every Friday where the employees bring in their home made cakes.

Right in the middle of the honeymoon week at the new job, I spoke to pops wife and I had a little matter of a health MOT to go to for myself.

Cancer likes company

Pops has indeed been diagnosed with liver cancer and has just had his first session of chemotherapy. From what I understand about liver cancer it has stages from A to D. Stage D is where they are no effective treatments and it’s about making the patient comfortable and relieving symptoms. As pops has started chemo he is either at stage B or C. He was OK the day after chemo but his wife said two days afterwards he could barely stand up, constantly has the shakes and a sharp pain in his finger keeps him awake at night. They have upped his medication and that seems to have helped.

He had his second session of chemo this week and he ended up needing an oxygen tank to help him breathe.

Stage B liver cancer has a average survival rate of twenty months and stage C has a survival rate of eleven months.

The announcement

Last week I got a surprise call from my doctor’s surgery, which I admit made my heart skip a beat as nothing good usually comes out of a call from your surgery.  It was not bad news, I was due for a health MOT check as I had officially joined the old fogies brigade. So off I went to the surgery. It is a twenty minute straightforward jobby I had been told. I took it all in my stride – nothing to worry about. The doctor took a little blood and took my blood pressure. She actually took my blood pressure three times. I was sitting there thinking this is good, she is detailed.

I thought nothing of her taking my blood pressure three times. Yeah, what was I thinking eh!

The doctor then announced that I had high blood pressure.

That was a shocker that I didn’t expect. She asked me about my diet, salt intake and exercise. I know that my diet is not perfect, I like my salt (like the next mermaid) and I still need to do more exercise.

The elephant in the room, which surprisingly she didn’t ask about, was stress. Just happens to be one of the major causes of high blood pressure generally and, whether I want to admit it or not, is something that is an unwelcome factor in my life.

The doctor wants me to come back at the end of the month to talk about possible medication. That’s the last thing that I want so I am trying to address the causes where I can. I am curbing all my salty foods and doing a heck of a lot more walking.

No more suffering

With no such thing as a break or let up I got a text message a few days later from my cousin.  My auntie had passed away. She had been suffering from Alzheimer’s for at least six years. It was a number of years ago that I last saw her. I didn’t know at the time what she was suffering from and hugged her when I saw her. She smiled at me but I didn’t know if she actually recognised me.

Her deterioration was slow and very brutal.

It broke my heart but I just didn’t see her again after that. Mum would tell me some visits were harder than others. Sometimes she would go there and she would hide from my mum as she didn’t recognise her. Then suddenly she would recognise her and they would have a few moments of joy together.

Mum was made of far sterner stuff and continued to visit her up until weeks before she passed.

Let him loose

I finished my hour long radio show reel and it went to my Bishop for him to make the final decision. The topic was ‘Beginners guide to the gym’.  I got the following email on the 12th June 2019,

Afternoon Peter
Hope you are well
Bishop has listen to your show and you are now a Ruach radio Presenter!
Let me know when you are free so we can discuss when your first ‘Mandem’ show will start going forward.
Well done!


I will keep you informed. I could be set free into the airways early July ….


Keep it short mate

I have just come back from a talk, that initially I was not looking forward to. The guy arranging it asked me if I could keep it to thirty minutes as and I quote,

“These senior people cannot bear more time, they want to talk to each other”

I had to ask did he really want a talk or did he just want me to send him some leaflets. I had never been restricted to thirty minutes before and I didn’t like it. Usually it is the other way around and I am asked how long do I need. It would have meant either I don’t give them all the information or I cannot take questions afterwards. He said he really wanted the talk so I took myself off to West London’s local Somalian pensioners club. I left my expectations at the door.

It actually turned out to be a good talk. I thought it might have been full of old boys that needed their sleep or medication. It was neither. The host just wanted to hurry me along so they could eat.  Naturally I somehow managed to completely ignore the time restriction put on me. Even when the hostess suddenly and loudly said thank you for coming, I carried on and still made sure I rinsed out every last question and answer.

I even made a point of asking the late comers, who had not even taken off their jackets, if they had any questions or if they wanted me to go over anything.


They were very happy though and the audience were very appreciative.

I have two very different talks coming up, which I am excited about. One is the staff at a white barber shop and the other is an Indian temple.

Finally, the two truths and one lie,

I was indeed flashed twice at a posh society wedding by the bride herself. The bride’s father was a Lord and her mother was a Lady something but I don’t know what type of titles they had – how they would be passed down and to whom etc. I was videoing the wedding and standing next to the photographer. The bride was sitting at the top table with her new husband, giddy in love and all that puke. It was a very big event so the rest of the guests were still finding their seats etc. The bride looked at us both and started to laugh and without hesitation just fished out one of her boobs.

As you do.

We both looked at each other stunned and we both just said ‘Did she really do that’ Then, while still laughing her head off, she calmly stood up, carefully bunched up the multiple layers of her wedding dress and gave us both a double barrel of ‘what high society wears at night’. The groom? Well he was right next to her laughing his head off too.

I am surprised I dodged therapy for that one and these last couple of weeks.


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