It's eight years since the 'morning after' my cancer surgery.  Eight years of life I might not have otherwise known. Eight years of mostly good health (drug side effects, some major, notwishtanding).  Eight years during which I have travelled to New Zealand, Hungary, Malta, Czechia, Finland, Madeirra, Tennerife, France and Italy.  Eight years during which I have conducted baptisms and weddings, baby blessings and funerals. Eight years that have been more full of joy than sorrow.  Eight years when I have at times struggled to deal with the long term emotional/mental/psychological impact of what life, more widely, has sent my way.  Eight years I am glad to have been given.

So, annual nag coming up - do the screening (even if targets aren't being met anywhere in the UK, the BBC never looks further than England), do the awareness/self checking and report lumsp, bumps, rashes, itches, bleeds, bloats, coughs, headaches or bloating that have no reasonable explanation or have gone on more than a couple of weeks.

Cancer treatment isn't fun, but it's better than the alternative - and avoids the guilt that can arise from if only...'

Exactly eight years ago today, I was lying in a room in the High Dependency Ward of the Canniesburn Plastic Surgery Unit at Glasgow Royal Infirmary, having just undergone major surgery.  I can't recall much about that evening, except evidently I was decidedly 'high' as a result of the drugs.

Back then, even being here eight years on seemed impossible, never mind being well, happy and healthy... and having discovered I quite like the odd adrenaline challenge. This year it will walking on fire!

So, if you are mad enough to wish to sponsor me, there's a button thingy in the left hand column of this blog.  It seems walking on fire really is a case of mind over matter - quick march and all will be well, dawdle and, well, let's not go there!

It's a Thursday evening in March, and I have pledged to raise £120, so all donations, however small, very welcome.

Today would have been Miss A's 101st birthday... I like to imagine that she is enjoying some cake (with candles) and has finally found out whether or not she is allowed to eat ham.

This afternoon I've begun another cull of books form my office/study. Some of these are ancient tomes passed on to me by someone they'd been passed on to umpteen years ago.  Most of them are key texts I had to buy for my research degree, and which have been gathering dust every since.  They represent serious expenditure back in the day, but now I am hoping that they will find new homes and bless new people.  Three of these fifty or so books survived the cull... I have lots more shelves to cull, lots more memories to let go but I have so many books double-banked or stacked on the floor that it's all just silly.

Almost all these books spark (or sparked) joy but now it's time to share that joy with others.