P. D. Clifton

Having had a delicious lunch of salami-and-cheese-stuffed pancakes – courtesy of Lizzie, of course – we’re doing our daily walk across the fields with Cedric the dog. All around us are sapling trees – in their plastic sheathes – planted by the Heart of England trust. A lot of them are leaning over precariously. Maybe…

It’s Lizzie’s birthday. Lizzie’s birthdays are always high-pressure events. As are Mother’s Days and Valentine’s Days, when it comes to Lizzie. She expects good presents. Very good presents. The problem is… she never likes the presents I buy for her. They’re always unmitigated disasters. Usually hardback books she’ll never, ever read… and if she was…

It’s late evening and Lizzie and I are walking down the hill with Cedric. Cedric is always slightly spooked on evening-time walks. He sniffs everything around him way less on these excursions… and trots ahead purposefully, keen to return to our bright kitchen as quickly as possible. ‘I’ve been doing some research,’ Lizzie says, as…

Days go past… and Lizzie still hasn’t received the results of her CAT scan. One evening she comes up to me, looking pale. She’s had a missed call. Her oncologist rang, minutes before – while Lizzie and her phone were in separate rooms. The oncologist didn’t leave a message, as often seems to be the…

It’s Friday before half-term… and we’re meant to be heading off at 5.30pm this afternoon, to drive down to Trevone Bay in Cornwall. This will be our first trip away, as a family, since Lizzie was diagnosed with cancer. Leaving late afternoon today is the plan anyway. But everywhere, Warwickshire included, is as windy as…

It’s the end of the evening and I walk into the bedroom as Lizzie’s in the process of putting on her baggy old pyjamas. I make a Sid James-style suggestive noise. ‘Don’t look at my fatness!’ says Lizzie, as she tugs her top on. ‘You’re not looking fat!’ I say, then add brightly, ‘you’ve lost…

It’s 5.45am and I’m rushing to get ready for work – which is down in London today (doing my crappy film production job). As I crash about the house, desperately trying not to wake everyone up, I notice the following bag in the hall by the front door. It’s litter for our new kitten –…

Lizzie now appears to be remembering on a regular basis that I’m writing a journal about our experiences. She asks me how it’s going, as we take the dog for a walk down the hill. Feeling slightly embarrassed, I tell her that writing ‘Stop Telling Me I’m Brave’ has not only been strangely therapeutic… it’s…

It’s my daily walk with Lizzie and Cedric the dog, over the fields. Lizzie is talking about what might happen after her final CAT scan in a few days’ time. Specifically, what might happen if it turns out all her cancer hasn’t gone. She tells me she’s expecting her oncologist to have a back-up plan…

It’s Saturday and Lizzie’s Mum has come to visit again. I like Lizzie’s Mum (or Grandma, as she’s known by the kids). For one thing, we’ve bonded in the face of a shared enemy – Cedric the dog. Cedric HATES Lizzie’s Mum. At the very sight of her, he goes nuts – barking his head…