I wonder what you were doing on Monday 23rd August 2010? Most likely you won't remember - I know that I can't recall anything about the days either side, but that date is indelibly etched into my memory and, though the intensity grows less over time, it never goes away.

The weather was lovely, that transition from summer to autumn, when the sun shines brightly but the light has subtly changed to a more golden hue.

It was, ostensibly, my day off, but I had agreed to meet the Church Treasurer in the morning to talk about something or other (I have long since forgotten what!).

I picked up an egg sandwich and a bottle of water from the 'little' Tesco and walked the half mile or so to Glasgow Western Infirmary, and entered the waiting room at Church Street Outpatients.

I remember where I sat to wait... which examination rooms I saw the inside of... the long corridor (littered with broken beds and other abandoned equipment) that led to the mammogram suite... I even remember the pale blue shirt and deep red tie of the consultant surgeon, and how the nurse reached out to hold my hand as biospies were taken...

Above all, I remember those four words, 'I'm sorry, it's cancer'.

Fifteen years later, I am grateful to be a NED, to have defied the odds my surgeon refused to give me ('I don't do numbers... we'll talk about it in five years' time'), grateful for the women I've met along the way, the lasting friendships I've made, the adventures I've had from night walks, to zip slides to fire walks, the charities that fund support and research, and of course for the NHS.

As always, when posting this, I do my annual nag to self-check your assorted 'bits', to do the screening if it's offered, to report the 100-day cough, the endless headache, the changes in bowel habit and even the nagging sense that 'something is not right'. Most likely you'll be fine, and if things aren't at least you will have the choice to treat or not.

It's not a day for celebration as such, I have known too many people whose lives were cut short by this, and other, cruel diseases, but it is a day to pause, reflect, be thankful... and maybe treat myself to something just a little bit indulgent, because if this taught me nothing else, it's always to be a little bit kinder to myself and sometimes to be a little bit less sensible!!

Photo - fifteen year old red duffle coat... bought because I'd always wanted one, and always considered it too frivolous... now very tatty but I can't imagine ever chucking it out.