The Boy and I hopped on a train to London and spent the day following our noses. No plan, no 'to do' list, no clock watching other than ensuring we were back at Kings Cross in time for the homeward journey. Fuelled by breakfast at Ottolenghi's (a Bircher-type muesli with mango and dates for me, croissant and slices of sourdough bread for toasting at the table for the Boy), we wandered Spitalfields and Shoreditch, bought a selection of the most velvety of chocolates after being hooked in by the irresistible aromas wafting through a doorway on Brick Lane, stocked up on beans-to-bars chocolate with a little glimpse behind the scenes, browsed in book shops (oh, this book), poked about in a stuffed to the rafters junk shop, shuffled around a heaving Borough market, looked across at graffiti and up at landmarks, indulged in doughnuts and macarons (him) and people and dog watching (me). Just taking the time to take it all in.
The garden's looking a tad soggy in places after all the rain (and a certain dog's sprinkling habit) and the roses have just about finished doing their thing but the black stemmed hydrangea is covered in blooms, one of the robins put in an appearance after a worrying absence and something pink is flowering (absolutely no idea what it is but it definitely isn't the night scented stock I was hoping for) in the now overcrowded pot which had been half heartedly scattered with a packet of unknown seeds at the beginning of summer.
Yesterday was one of those stomach churning days when I attend the hospital for an appointment with my skin cancer specialist and his team (my gynae oncologist stopped seeing me in September last year). I was examined, all was declared well and, as a result, I've been discharged.
After five years, eight months and one day since having radical surgery for a gynaecological malignant melanoma, there will be no more check ups (though the monthly self examinations will continue). Of course, I cried and the Boy, the mister and I went out for dinner later at a favourite restaurant because it seemed the right thing to do. Now there's just the little matter of learning to fly without a parachute.