Will you still need me, will you still feed me / When I’m sixty-four (ack. to John and Paul). Yes, it sneaked up when I wasn’t looking.
I’ve been thoroughly spoilt with presents and seeing friends and family before, during and still to come (Sunday will be fun). Victoria and Charlotte organised a rollicking dinner for all of us at an American-themed smokehouse in London, even the live band were BBQ’d; then the wonderful surprise of a night’s stay at the ‘Shangri-La’ hotel at the Shard. Waking up in the morning (late) on the 49th floor, throwing those curtains wide (ack. to Elbow), then remembering I was as naked as a plucked chicken might have sent feathers flying but as I couldn’t even be seen by the ant-sized people crossing London Bridge I don’t believe any more feathers were ruffled apart, perhaps, from those of a passing helicopter pilot who flew over, pointed in my direction and laughed heartily – a little too heartily for my liking.
Just to put everything back into perspective, it’s chemo day again tomorrow. Yey.