P. D. Clifton

It’s the morning of Lizzie’s last (hopefully) chemotherapy. I offered to drive Lizzie to the hospital in Edgbaston for her last session, a couple of weeks ago. Unfortunately, I wasn’t sensitive or forward-thinking enough to think must book some time off work to drive Lizzie to her last chemotherapy, back when Lizzie actually first began…

I’m on my daily walk with Lizzie and Cedric. We’re talking about her upcoming final session of chemo on Friday, which is two days’ time. ‘Are you sure you don’t mind me going out on Saturday?’ I ask. I’ve arranged to meet A. and J. – who I studied English with at university a lifetime…

Today – as a precious ‘memory’ – my iPhone presents me with… a picture of a lateral flow test. In fact, I took the picture a few weeks ago. I’ve taken lots of pictures of lateral flow tests over the last few months… so I can blow them up and read the tiny serial number…

Lizzie and I are trudging along a muddy footpath by a field, with Cedric. Ahead, is the footbridge over a brook which marks the hallway point of the walk – where we’ll turn around and head back. As we get closer to the footbridge, we realise Cedric is no longer with us. We turn and…

We’re in the kitchen, discussing the early days of Lizzie’s career as an artist. ‘After uni,’ she tells me, ‘I moved back into Mum and Dad’s. For four days. I couldn’t bear it any longer than that, so I moved to London without a job.’ Lizzie’s told me about her career origins before, but I’m…

It’s Lizzie and my daily walk with the dog. We do the same route we always do, over the fields by Bunton, then circling back so we’re walking towards the North Cotswolds – which stretch out slumberingly across the horizon. Peppered across the fields to either side of us, are hundreds of sapling trees protected…

Lizzie walks into the living room and peers at the screen of my laptop. I cover the screen with my hand. ‘Don’t look! You can’t!’ I squeal. ‘What are you writing about? My cancer?’ asks Lizzie, perfectly reasonably. ‘That… and other things. But largely that,’ I reply. I suddenly feel embarrassed. ‘Maybe I shouldn’t be…

OK, due to popular demand, below is another picture of our dog Cedric. Clearly I do love him, don’t I? I should stop deluding myself. Whenever we take Cedric for a walk around our village, the other dogs in the place go nuts. Clearly, they can sense that Cedric is a wrong ‘un. Like the…

So… I’m going to give myself precisely one hour (well, one hour and a bit) to write about our dog, Cedric. Sorry to say it, but I’m not sure he deserves any more! Also, it’s late and I’m tired… I’ve just spent three and a quarter hours cooking and doing the family laundry… and I…

[Continued from previous post]. I think back to when my father was diagnosed with cancer of the lymph and lungs – when I was in my twenties. It just didn’t cross my mind that he might die. It didn’t seem to be a possibility. I continued thinking he’d be OK even when his cancer didn’t…