Monthly Archives: February 2017

More Chemotherapy

I haven’t said much about the ongoing course of Chemotherapy I was undertaking.

It was timed for once every three weeks.  Apparently the body’s immune system is at its very lowest some fifteen days after the treatment so they allow you about another week to get slightly more back to normal before dosing you with the next lot.  When it was all over I worked it out and reckon they had given me about a bucketful of the stuff.

I found the first three or four treatments did not affect me too badly.  At the first infusion I had nearly passed out (something I have only done once in my life – but that is another story).  After this it was decided that the Piriton, which is given to allay the effects of the chemicals used in the chemotherapy, was being given to me too quickly and when it was administered more slowly I had less reaction.

What I did hate was the endless needles.  I have always had a needle phobia, to the extent that I have to turn away if someone on the films or television is about to have an injection, and of course now I had to have a blood test prior to the treatment, then on the day the drugs for the chemo were put in via a vein in ones hand or arm.  And not only this, the chemo apparently affect the veins making it more difficult to access them or get blood out.

The second trip to the hospital involved me visiting the Blood Clinic, and the man who tried to get blood had to have three or four goes, probably not helped by the fact he was discussing when his lunch-hour was to be whilst poking about in my veins.  In the end he gave up and got another nurse to ‘have a go’  well in fact several goes, until in the end I really felt I had to call a halt to the proceedings.  Sally told me to ‘smile as it would feel better’  But I have to say I was pretty certain it wouldn’t and I was all out of smiles by then.

But I knew I had to have blood samples taken, and I suddenly remembered that when in France they had fitted something in the shoulder area of my chest.  Could this be used to take a blood sample.  Apparently yes, but the Blood Clinic said they could not do it as they ‘might introduce an infection’ ????

So off up to the Chemo Ward where the nice nurses were a bit fazed by the piece of equipment which had been fitted in my shoulder, and sent for a senior nurse who expertly, efficiently, and moderately painlessly, managed to get some blood samples.  Not only that, but it was decided that after it had been flushed they could use it for the chemo infusion next time.  So when I went in for my second appointment I was far more relaxed thinking that I wouldn’t need to have yet another thing stuck in my veins.

Its good that we can’t always see the future as it would probably be too off-putting.  As one of the other nurses had watched the procedure last time she was delegated to ‘have a go’ .  I felt reasonably relaxed until the third ‘go’  – when I suggested maybe she call in reinforcements.

And so it was, on and off over the next few months, until I became tearful at the mere thought of having to have blood taken or things inserted in my veins, and even typing this is making me feel sorry for myself and giving me a lump in my throat.  But things just have to be done, and one just has to be as brave as possible.

Sally’s business was thriving and taking up more and more of her time, and now I was used to the procedures I was quite happy getting to the appointments under my own steam.  Though she did come with me for the results of my scan and was delighted for me with the vast improvement.

At that meeting it was decided I might as well have the last two chemo infusions.  I think I would have liked to demur, but I knew I would be overruled, and who know who is right or wrong in such circumstances?  What I did notice was that the last two treatments of the six hit me a lot harder, and not only that, the pain in my abdomen and many of the original symptoms began to return.

Number five left me feeling tearfully low and depressed (one of the side effects) especially as the day after chemo I caught the most appalling cough and cold – so bad that one of the drivers who had also caught it needed to be taken from his truck by ambulance to hospital, and Sally’s Mum had to take Sally to A & E.  This horrendous sore throat, cough and cold lasted nearly until Christmas, and having gotten rid of it I promptly caught another and different variety.  So when someone came into the office with a child which had been vomiting I nearly ran out, thinking I just could not risk a third illness.

But chemo number six really, really hit me for a six.  We had gone to Switzerland after the fifth, and I found my vitality sapped and any spring which might have been in my step had been totally worn down, but I did enjoy the Swiss experience.  (more of that in the next post)

The scenery is magnificent and I have to say I found the people of the area a delight – interested, helpful and welcoming to tourists.  Wengen and that whole area is a charming place and God willing, when I am travelling again I will return for another look round taking Phoebe, as dogs seem welcome everywhere, even in the hotel !

We flew back from Switzerland on the 3rd of Jan and next morning I was due for my sixth chemo and by now I was pretty much of an emotional wreck, and was in tears before anyone really started.  I asked for the lovely nurse who had made the best job in the past of accessing the port in my chest, and although the connection went in okay for some reason when the chemicals were connected the pain was unbearable.  So that was all taken off and a vein in my arm selected.

Eventually I was hooked up and the last lot of poisons pumped into my system.

A Boxing Match

Nick – one of the many drivers and folk who work for Sally’s firm, affectionately known as Oily from when he helped out in the HGV yard repairing the trucks – had been training for some time for a Charity Boxing Match in aid of Cancer Research.  So a party was made up to support him and his family on the evening in question.

It was basically a Black Tie Event at a large local hotel, but the dress code was Super Smart.  Sally put on a ‘Little Black Dress’ , Tibbo donned a suit and tie, I did the best I could, and we set off.

We arrived just after lunchtime (sans lunch) and as it was a big hotel, and I could see tables laid with cutlery, glasses and napkins I was hopeful of something to eat.  Having queued for quite some time to buy our party a drink I enquired for food.  No – they were serving nothing at the moment, not even sandwiches but there would be food available at the fight.  So I had to be satisfied with that.

We sat in one of the lounges, by a fireplace filled with a Christmas decoration rather than a fire, and as so many were arriving the doors opening and closing made it a bit on the chilly side, and I wished I had chosen whiskey and water, rather than Prosecco.  Nick burst in wearing his fully boxing regalia and looking very bold, though I would imagine feeling rather nervous behind the bluster.  There were quite a few due to fight both men and some women, and they were all mingling with their friends and supporters.


Eventually we were told we could go through and made our way to the very large function room with the ring set up in the centre and tables seating eight or more placed all the way round, plus of course the obligatory deafening music.  We gave our names and were escorted to our table by a very beautiful, elegant and extremely long-legged young lady, wearing a rather short skirt, and told if we called over any of the waiting staff we could order food or drinks from them.

This was easier in the idea than in the operation, but eventually someone took our order, and drinks and a ‘menu’  arrived.  The choice on offer was three different sorts of pizza and chips.  Then of course the difficulty was attracting the attention of someone to take our food order, which unsurprisingly was pizza and chips all round, but eventually this was achieved.  Before our food arrived Nick’s family joined us on the table, having sensibly purchased their drinks in the bar and carried them through, and presumably had Sunday lunch before arriving.


I have to say when I was first asked if I wanted to go to a Boxing Match I was very much in two minds as to whether to go.  Did I really want to spend time watching people trying to hurt each other?  But on the other hand it was for a good cause, and Nick had been training conscientiously for weeks beforehand, and every experience (within reason) adds to one’s knowledge of life – so I decided to go.  And I am pleased I did.

I am not saying I would enjoy a professional fight, or even an amateur fight where prestige and possibly money are hanging on the out-come, but as fights go this was very good natured, though of course all the contestants were more than keen to win. And I was pleased to see all the fighters were wearing excellent, thickly padded head protection gear.

When each fight started the contestants came into the room from an overhead balcony accompanied by their own specially chosen theme tune.

Nick looking tough

Nick looking even tougher

Then they posed for various photos before climbing into the ring where there were more photo opportunities.  The referee gave the pair the obligatory talking to, and then they ‘came out’ touched gloves and were off.

Being very much amateurs there were not many hard punches landed.  But as soon as one did strike home the referee stopped the fight for an instant and checked that the recipient had not been badly hurt and was fit to go on, and until the referee was satisfied all was in order the fight was halted.  So it was nowhere near as violent and gruesome as I had worried about.  Someone did get a bloody nose, but even that was not too bad.

It was strange to me to see women fighting each other, though I would have hardly known they were female but for the fact the table next to us, entirely occupied by women came to life shouting and cheering and following through with each punch, and dancing about beside the ring to such an extent that the invigilators had to send an envoy to tell them to sit down at the table again or the fight would be stopped!

ight Results due to be announced

Once the fighting was over all the contestants, showered and dressed in normal clothes came out for the results awarded on points scored. I am not sure who won, other than it was not the ladies or Nick.


Then down to the converted cellars in the basement for more drinks and dancing.  And I have to say that I surprised myself, or should I say a gentleman surprised me and after a Conga swept me off for a ‘close dance’

Well a surprising end to an interesting night.

The Office Party

Sally’s business was started in February of this year, and she felt that a Christmas get-together for everyone would be a good way of building some team spirit, and I was invited.

Everyone was asked to put on their ‘Glad Rags’

Mark (aka Tibbo) in his new bib and tucker with Sally

And we were to be wined and dined, plus dancing, at a local hotel.  On arrival we were handed rum punch and the table was supplied with wines and beers to accompany the traditional turkey dinner carver, followed by plum pudding.  Every one had loads to eat and to drink, especially the latter, and the dancing to the disco afterwards was pretty abandoned, in particular, Jack, the office junior gave a sterling performance – worthy of Top of the Pops I thought – if that is still going.

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Sally had thoughtfully booked taxis to take us all back, due to arrive for one a.m..  I don’t think the cars were particularly late in arriving, but the drinking, plus the excitement of the dancing, meant that one of Sally’s drivers decided it would be quicker to walk back, as we were only two or three miles from home.  Of course when ‘in one’s cups’ one’s judgement is somewhat clouded, and it would take a sober and fit person at least half and hour and maybe near an hour to cover that distance.  And when one is finding it difficult to stand or walk in a moderately straight line it is going to take quite a lot longer.

But he wasn’t to be gainsaid and set off against all advice about walking along unlit pavements at that time of night and just before Christmas when not all drivers have complied with the driving laws, and leaving about ten minutes before the taxis arrived –  his girlfriend, who had consumed nearly as much, saying to let him get on with it.

The usual mayhem followed the arrival of the taxis with different couples needing to take different directions, but eventually we were all loaded on, and as Mark, the one who had departed early, would be taking our route back we all kept our eyes peeling for him.  But he was not to be seen.

Had he taken some sort of short cut and arrived before us?  His totally unconcerned girlfriend now became a bit more interested, as not only had he not returned before us, he had locked his door and taken his keys with him, and it was a cold December night.

Sally’s Mum was called for, as the only one fit to drive.   Then Sally, and Tibbo, accompanied by Mark’s girlfriend set off with Pat driving.  They apparently drove back the way we had taken, then down and up again, round the town – just in case – then one final trip back towards the hotel by which time Mark had escaped the ditch where he had fallen and was scooped up and borne back in triumph.

Life Regression

For many years, long before I was diagnosed with cancer, I had been trying to understand myself and the inner workings of my mind and body and how they might be connected,  and after my diagnosis this seemed to take on a greater urgency.

I had found an interest in Reiki and Reflexology many years before, and had heard about NLP.  Quite a few years ago someone had lent me a series of discs and a book on NLP and though I started to read them and listen to the discs I really found it hard to get on with them and my interest drifted to a close.  So having heard about NLP and having some idea of what it entailed I was amazed to find when I took Phoebe to be washed, that the lady whose business it was, had also qualified as a practitioner in NLP.

So as well as getting Phoebe washed I had several sessions with an NLP practitioner, that is short for Neuro Linguistic Programming.

This is what Wikipedia has to say about NLP
NLP’s creators claim there is a connection between neurological processes (neuro-), language (linguistic) and behavioral patterns learned through experience (programming), and that these can be changed to achieve specific goals in life, Bandler and Grinder also claim that NLP methodology can “model” the skills of exceptional people, allowing anyone to acquire those skills.

I have to say that I find it hard to open up to people easily, possibly even to myself, so the series of questions which were put to me over the hours that I spent in therapy (is that the correct term – to me it always implies a mixture of madness and self-absorbed introspection) I found myself becoming more and more resistant, even though I was trying hard to open up.

But one of the things we touched on was past life regression, and as it was something which had caught my interest some years ago I thought I might give it a try.

Some googling on the internet produced a name of a lady in Worcester, whom I had met briefly some years before, and phoning her I made an arrangement to visit.

As I didn’t want to walk too far she explained where her consulting rooms were situated and which might be the best places to park, and I spent some time on Google Earth and Parkopedia checking things out.

Oh….. the best laid plans of mice and men!

On the day it turned out it was the annual Three Day Worcester Victorian Fair, complete with swings and roundabouts on the most suitable car park, and stalls and stands covering all the available on-street parking.

So after a few circuits of Worcester I had to settle for the multi-storey carpark opposite the Cathedral, which was full apart from the very top floor.  The lifts were all about of order and the carpark was being extensively remodelled involving long walks with no proper signage and very uneven pavements

I arrived tired, late (which I hate to be) and flustered.  Whether it was the bad beginning, or just one of those things, but once again I couldn’t settle into the therapy or relax at all, and left feeling as though I was no further forward than before.




Interestingly I recently came across this poem written by Charlie Chaplin on his seventieth birthday.

As I Began to Love Myself – Self Love Poem by Charlie Chaplin

As I began to love myself I found that anguish and emotional suffering
are only warning signs that I was living against my own truth.
Today, I know, this is “AUTHENTICITY”.

As I began to love myself I understood how much it can offend somebody
As I try to force my desires on this person, even though I knew the time
was not right and the person was not ready for it, and even though this
person was me.
Today I call it “RESPECT”.

As I began to love myself I stopped craving for a different life,
and I could see that everything that surrounded me was inviting me to grow.
Today I call it “MATURITY”.

As I began to love myself I understood that at any circumstance,
I am in the right place at the right time, and everything happens
at the exactly right moment. So I could be calm.
Today I call it “SELF-CONFIDENCE”.

As I began to love myself I quit stealing my own time,
and I stopped designing huge projects for the future.
Today, I only do what brings me joy and happiness, things I love to do
and that make my heart cheer, and I do them in my own way and in
my own rhythm.
Today I call it “SIMPLICITY”.

As I began to love myself I freed myself of anything that is no good for
my health – food, people, things, situations, and everything that drew
me down and away from myself. At first I called this attitude
a healthy egoism.
Today I know it is “LOVE OF ONESELF”.

As I began to love myself I quit trying to always be right, and ever since
I was wrong less of the time.
Today I discovered that is “MODESTY”.

As I began to love myself I refused to go on living in the past and worry
about the future. Now, I only live for the moment, where EVERYTHING
is happening.
Today I live each day, day by day, and I call it “FULFILLMENT”.

As I began to love myself I recognized that my mind can disturb me
and it can make me sick. But As I connected it to my heart, my
mind became a valuable ally.
Today I call this 
connection “WISDOM OF THE HEART”.

We no longer need to fear arguments, confrontations or any kind of problems
with ourselves or others. Even stars collide, and out of their crashing
new worlds are born.
Today I know THAT IS “LIFE”!

Charlie Chaplin


Another Visit to Bos du Mas

Armed with my GOOD NEWS I thought again about the house in France, and remembering that I had never actually seen round all the rooms in the ‘cave’ which is the French term for the part of the house which is not quite cellar and not quite basement, I got in touch and made arrangements for another chance to look at it.

I am getting a bit better with booking flights online and got onto the Ryan Air site, and I have to say when I saw flights out advertised for £5.50 and returns for £9.90 got carried away and just booked up straight away without thinking it through or checking what the trip might clash with. So having booked it I suddenly remembered that I was due for another session of Chemo round about then, and sure enough the day for treatment was right in the middle of the days I was to be out of the country, but I got in touch with the hospital and they were very good with rearranging it all.

My brother Mike had said he would come with me, as I was still not feeling that confident about travelling by myself, and I arranged for us to stay at a nice French provincial hotel in the nearby town of Rochechouart where there is a most interesting chateau built in the 12th century apparently utilising the rock from a huge meteorite with crashed into the area some 200 million years ago leaving a 30 kilometre crater.  This meteorite was one of a series of three huge meteorites which hit almost simultaneously, and at one time were thought to have been the cause of the Triassic-Durasic extinction event.

We would have liked to take a look round the chateau, but it was closed for renovations.  Still its quite close to Champagnac so I thought I might be able to do that on a later visit.

The flight arrival time was very civilised meaning it was not an early morning start but we still had time to collect our hire car and take a leisurely drive to the hotel in plenty of time to get changed before eating.  The Hotel de France is a nice little French provincial hotel overlooking the town square, and part of the Logis chain.  We both had simple but adequate rooms, and enjoyed an excellent evening meal on the two nights we stayed in France.  We ate from the ‘menus’ each time which gave a lovely choice of quality ingredients, and plenty of them, plus we had an excellent bottle of wine to share before retiring to our respective rooms – me to enjoy the unaccustomed luxury of a long hot soak in the bath tub.

Our meeting at Bos du Mas was at 10am so there was time for a leisurely continental breakfast with coffee before heading off through the bright, clear autumn sunshine.  The night before had been cold and clear with a sharp frost, leaving the morning vehicles with a thick, crisp coating of rime – but that meant the views from the ridge-top roads overlooking the far-reaching ranges of hills were wonderful, reminding me of how I had fallen in love with this enchanting area,

The key to the locked room in the Sous Sol was available this time, though it did reveal more problems with the supporting woodwork than I had anticipated, which in turn would mean far more expense when restoring the house.  But I still liked the feel of the house so we will see what the future brings.

After out meeting we popped up to Parc Verger and shared a cup of coffee with Lisa before going across to see Andree and Jean-Claude where as usual my non-existent French let me down.  I really must do something about starting to learn again.

Then a good lunch from the Menu du Jour at the nearby converted railway station before a walk round the charming Rochechouart, another soak in the bath tub, and yet another good meal.  I think the Hotel de France will be added to my places to eat should I move to the area.

Having booked out next morning we had another bright sunny day to enjoy a drive around the area, this time going a little further than I have ventured in the past, and it was all just as quiet and delightful as we drove through miles of forest interspersed with grazing lands, and everywhere the wonderful views of the ranges of hills.

We made it back to our little local airport before the day was too dark to enjoy the scenery with plenty of time to enjoy some home made food in the airport lounge, and a few beers before leaving for the flight home.

Mission ac

A Room Without a View

Tibbo, before going out with Sally, had been a long-distance night-time truck driver, spending most of his nights out away from home and sleeping in the cab of his luxury truck.  So over the years he built up a circle of friends in all parts of the country and a group of them were based in Bognor Regis.

He obviously wanted to introduce Sally to them, especially as they started going out in July and since then he had not spent one night out in his truck – now driving only in the day and rushing back to be with Sally each evening.  So when he was invited to the weekend birthday party of one of his Bognor friends it was the ideal opportunity for him to spend time with them, and introduce them to the new girl in his life.  And very kindly, I was to be included in this outing.

Sally, as a child, had spent many happy family holidays in Bognor Regis, staying with her brother, parents and grandparents at Butlins where they enjoyed the usual family fun, so with such happy memories of course she wanted to stay there on our visit, and I must admit that a visit to Butlins was going to be another ‘first’ for me, so I was interested to see how it might compare with my preconceived ideas.

Tibbo had set off the day before, and in fact spent a night in his truck on the Thursday down in Bognor, and Sally and I set out on the Friday evening to meet up with him.  Thank goodness for Sat Navs!  It was of course dark and raining and to be fair the Sat Nav managed to get us to the correct address, though on the wrong side of a parking hammerhead so we had to retrace our route by about a quarter of a mile – following Tibbo’s telephone directions.

We weren’t actually meeting at Butlins but at his friend’s ‘pub’   This turned out to be a lean-to conservatory on the back of their house, where his group of friends met regularly to share some lagers, and whatever else was on offer.  So having finally found where we were headed it was lagers all round.

After an hour or so meeting them all and sharing a convivial chat and some music we needed to book into Butlins and get some sort of takeaway for supper.

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Butlins in Bognor Regis is a huge site with beds for nearly 5000 people in various hotels and self-contained apartments.  We were in a large hotel called Waves, and once checked in we found our room.  Sally had selected a double room which had an integral room with bunk beds, so of course Sally and Tibbo had the bed, and I was happy with one of the bunks, though I did find it somewhat trying to have no window, and in fact by the third night begged to have the sliding doors open in the main room, to at least get some air.  But nature I like to sleep with the window open when possible unless it is really cold, which in large hotels it never is.

img_3891My bunk bed

img_3895The View from my ‘Window’

Having found our room Sally and Tibbo set out to find a takeaway, and it was another ‘first’ for me – Burger King!  So, well and truly full up and tired we all went to bed.


As we had a late night and the others had consumed a fair amount of lager we were not out to breakfast early, but did actually make it before they closed.  I was a huge self service affair with several counters serving lots of different foods, though pretty well everyone seemed to be going for the ‘Full English’ and that seemed like a good option to me, though I had some sliced fruit to start off with.

Sally had a plate of fruit, cereal, a full English with toast and baked beans plus a filled omlette, and some pastries, croissants and jam to follow, and had I know we would not be eating till nearly eleven that evening I may well have eaten some more myself!

Then we went for a look round Bognor Regis, and a drive along the seafront, plus a coffee whilst we sat and watched the breakers on the pebbled shore before heading back to Butlins.  Apparently popular myth says that George V’s last words on his death bed were ‘Bugger Bognor’, when his physician suggested that as soon as he was well enough he should go to the royal residence there for some sea air.  And having sat looking out on the shelving, pebbled beach in the grey of a November morning I could see where he was coming from.

I don’t think I mentioned that the entertainment for the weekend was a 90’s revival, complete with a Spice Girls look-a-like band so we joined the general melee,  I have to say I was in my forties during their heyday, so it was maybe not as nostalgic for me as for Sally and Tibbo, who seemed to be enjoying it along with copious quantities of lager, not needing to worry about drink/driving as a taxi had been arranged for the party that evening.


Knowing we were going to a nineties evening I had done my research as to what was ‘the thing’ then, and apparently Glow Sticks (something I had never heard of) were all the rage, so before we set out I had got online and purchased a box of one hundred.

Back at the hotel room we all got changed, and decorated with various glowsticks, though there were still plenty left to take along for the other birthday party guests.

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This time there were more lagers for most, and a little champagne for me while some of the others decked themselves out in the spare glowsticks.  Then yet another ‘first’  – a Jaegerbomb – I hope that is spelled correctly.  One for me (which I sipped and decided tasted not unlike a sweetish cough medicine) whilst the rest of the party had at least two or three each, which were of course downed in one gulp!

Then a couple of people carriers arrived to take us off to a pub where the birthday girl’s brother was the regular DJ, and a jolly evening was had by all.  Though as the time approached eleven I had to beg for someone to find me something to eat.  Sally came back with some Pizza, but the pub would not allow food to be bought in (somewhat strange as they didn’t provide any food themselves) so it was out into the rain to find a reasonably deep doorway, though the pizza was very welcome and tasty.

I think the taxis came to take us back at about one a.m. and I was taken back to the hotel and not with the others who were intent on more lager and more Jaegerbombs.

Next morning – unsurprisingly – Sally and Tibbo did not surface until late so we missed breakfast altogether and instead opted for a Sunday Roast lunch, though I think I probably did better justice to mine than they did to theirs.

Afterwards we drove over to ‘The Pub’ where some of the birthday guests had been up all night and were still drinking – though the Jaegerbombs had all gone and it was just lager.  After a few hours chatting and drinking it was back to Butlins to see what entertainment was on offer there, but being late on a Sunday most of the weekenders were packing or had already left, so a few lagers more for the others and a coffee for me, and it was back to bed.

Once again we were too late for breakfast the next morning so Sally and I followed Tibbo to his favourite service station which housed a MacDonalds – where yet another first for me – a ‘Big Mac’ and I also purchased a dozen Crispy Cremes to take back for everyone in the office.

A Long Overdue Update – And a Visit to a Psychic

As soon as I heard my GOOD NEWS I wanted to post it so everyone would know that at last things had taken a turn for the better,  But after my last cheerful and very positive post things went a bit downhill, and as a result I have not had the enthusiasm to get the blog up-to-date.  However I think I must be feeling a bit better again, as at long last I have done some more writing, though you may have to wait for all of it, and also for all the photos.

Some of the following posts might be a little out of order, but I have done my best.  The one below – A Visit to a Psychic should have been posted in September just after my first Chemo, but I hope you will understand and excuse me.

A Visit to a Psychic

I have a strong belief that there is more to this world than we are aware of, but somehow psychic readings are something I have stayed away from in the past: though many, many years ago my mother had a friend who gave readings under the name of Madame Frankaharti.   She told me I would have two children and spend seven years among only women – possibly in prison.  So far neither of these predictions have transpired so perhaps that is why I was more than a little dubious about visiting Sally’s favourite medium Diane Lazarus.

Although she is a Welsh lady and lives in Wales she also has a consulting rooms in Sutton Coldfield and that is where we made an appointment to visit her and have our fortunes read -if that is the correct way to describe it.

She is a lovely personality, warm, friendly and relaxing to be around.  After a few words of welcome, she explained that during the reading she would appear to be talking to the wall, and that once the reading was over she would have no memory of what had taken place so I would be provided with a recording, which I could take home and listen to.


Being somewhat skeptical about the whole proceedings I decided to say as little as possible and see what she came up with.  She told me that my mother’s spirit had accompanied me into the room when I first arrived, and judging from the later comments let very few of the other spirits present get much of a word in, which does sound a fairly accurate assessment.  She was apparently happy and busy in the spirit world, and thoroughly enjoying herself there.

When I visited I had only just started my chemo, so still had some hair, which I had augmented with a pretty hairpiece, and also had all my eyebrows and eyelashes, so I was interested to see if Diane would pick up on my illness.


Looking back I think she might have done so fairly quickly, but it must be difficult to know how to proceed in case your client is unaware of such illness.  How do you approach it?   One can’t just blurt out that someone has terminal cancer, especially if they haven’t been diagnosed.

So there was quite a lot of under the breath mutterings and she said she could see lots of blood tests, and that I should look to my health.  In the end I felt it was not fair to keep quiet, and explained the situation which made it easier for us both.

Diane did say that they were ‘not ready for me yet up there’ so that was a bit heartening.  Though when she asked if I had any specific questions and I wanted to know how long I might have the answer was pretty vague, if in fact there was an answer.  It was all a bit emotional for me, and I had managed to forget any handkerchiefs, plus Diane’s had been used up, but I had dried my tears before I left

Sally went in after me and seemed most satisfied with her reading – especially as Mark (Tibbo) got quite a few mentions – and we set off home.  There was a player in the car so we thought it would be interesting to replay the readings, starting with mine.  But try as I might it couldn’t be found.

We headed back to Sutton Coldfield thinking the disc was left at Diane’s, or dropped outside her rooms, or maybe on the road where we had stopped to turn around.  We retraced our journey, keeping our eyes peeled along the way in case it had been put on the roof of the car when we started out, and then flown off along the way.  But it was nowhere to be seen.

When Sally went in to ask Diane was delighted to see her – saying she had a gift for me and had been unsure how to get it to us.  It was a beautiful embroidered pouch, containing a few tissues she had found.  But it works even better as protection for my mobile phone.  I love it.  Thank you Diane.

Sadly we had not left the disc there, and thinking it lost we set off.  Only to find that when I rummaged in my handbag it had been tucked inside something else.

Serendipity  at work for sure!