T(r)opic of Cancer

Dunkan is home from hospital, with a prognosis of just a few weeks. He's too ill to do anything and doesn't want to see anyone.

I managed to spend the first three decades of life without knowing anyone with cancer. Now in the last 3 or 4 years, it seems to be making up for lost time.

First Emily, now Dunkan. In between, mother, who didn't have cancer as such, but a "benign" growth that almost killed her. And tomorrow Spock is getting a checkup from the vet, on the growth on his neck.

Then I log onto a chatroom tonight, and find a man who's on edge because his sister might have the same cancer as their father.

Oh I forgot - Nelly, my father's mother. But she was senile long before they found lymphoma, and I didn't see her at all for the last decade of her existence.

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The council have sent me a letter, suggesting I might have paid too much tax on my earnings. I appreciate the sentiment but, seeing as I've had no earnings and no tax for the last two years, a rebate seems unlikely.

They've also sent me a P45, confirming that, after doing 2 days work in a theatre 3 months ago, I am again available to do a job. Should one ever become available.

I could once again explain to them the payscale of voluntary work, but there doesn't seem a lot of point.

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Right, the first module of a physics course will be arriving in something under two weeks, so it would be a jolly good idea if I had a headful of revised maths and a tidy work area by the time it's here.

Odd how learning is so much more enjoyable when you're supposed to be learning something else. I started reading Teach Yourself Serbo-Croat just so I didn't have to revise GCSE maths.