A Good Day

It's not often that I feel compelled to write because of the beauty of the world, but yesterday was one of those days – one that stood out in two week's worth of days that have all stood out, which is praise indeed. Endless sunny days, beautiful blue skies and pinky-orange cotton wool sunsets setting over calm seas have become the norm. Bluebells have filled the woods and the tree's leaves have burst forth into life and light, as has my heart to walk amongst all that we are given but sometimes forget.

The addition of a new member of the family, a five year old young lady called Jadie from Maidstone has brought her own problems, and rewards too. For without her, or Purdey as she is now known, I might have stayed at home, together with the pains in my legs and hips that seem to have resurfaced, mulling the future. But Purdey is keen to discover the world, her senses – all these new smells, so enticing, so confusing – water, water, WATER! A break in the hedge with a stream behind in which to jump is a chance missed can't you see. A stick thrown is even more devine.

Purdey loves water, balls – and preferably balls in water

Together we walked up by the Coly river and up over the hills, through fields of Buttercups and Dandelions, through lanes of Stitchwort and Cow Parsley. White blossom floated from a tree outside a beautiful farmhouse, where a bottle of lemonade sat half drunk on a table. Small streams burbled, with tentacles of streamer weed waving over beds of sunlit gravel, where minnows swam to be alive. Meadows of grass so lush that Purdey had to jump and spring to find her way – her ever gaining excitement a visible sign of the beauty we both felt. Like a dream world, one long gone, written about, but never seen. The thing of tales, the thing that men were forced to fight to protect. Summer, oh glorious English summer. For you are here. And so am I, of that much I am glad.

The Joy of Life

We had a much loved, and now much missed, temporary house guest recently. Answering to the name of Meg, she liked to go walking whatever the weather, especially when the leaves were blowing. Most of the time Meg displayed human qualities, and indeed thinks that she is – but once a rubber pig or chicken was introduced she became a wild thing, as much a wild thing a Springer Spaniel can be. For those that have never had one, Springers embody a lust for life that maybe we should take note of…

Meg loves rubber chickens and pigs. And Naomi's hand.

I know that walking helps the pain in my hips and back, a result of the cancer’s spread to my bones; It doesn’t care where it goes, just as long as it can get somewhere, anywhere. Radiotherapy at different times has helped me regain back mobility – there have been moments when I couldn’t even get out of the car, wincing in pain; A far cry from the man that would walk happily in the Lakes for ten to twelve miles a day.

I can walk now, which is a blessing, a fact that I thank God and my doctor for. But there are days where I’m just happy to sit on the couch, feeling lethargic, devoid of energy. All symptoms that cancer sufferers are so familiar with, and I count myself lucky that the side effects of Tarceva are ‘relatively’ slight.

But Meg indicated that sitting on the couch just isn’t allowed, that whatever the weather we must get out to enjoy the world, to take part whilst we still can. That even if the weather is cloudy and grey, like my spirit sometimes, that to see the world for all its beauty is to understand that life must be lived. So as we kicked leaves and walked amongst the swaying, dancing trees, looking down on the valleys of Dorset stretching to the sea I felt happiness in my heart. From the hill-tops to the sea, in the clouds, in the sun, we walked – Meg and I.

Meg, contented after a hard day chasing leaves

 She has now gone home to her owner and I’ve gone back to being inside too much, but I try to remember the joy we both felt from the world out there. For to be in it is to experience the reason we’re here: Not things, objects, or possessions – for the beauty of life, however it may reach out and touch our hearts, is to be rich indeed.