we're all back from a summer holiday and wishing we weren't ...

... and blackberry-picking to cheer ourselves up.


Have returned from 2 glorious and long-awaited weeks in Devon, cursing Langage Farm clotted cream for my expanded waistline. And as I write the rain is lashing the house in wind-shaken sheets that make me long for Tuckenhay sun ... (not that that was very reliable either but at least it always brightened up in time for an evening cider). I have decided the only way to live a SAD-free life and stop the weather tossing my mood around like a cat with a mouse is to MOVE TO ITALY. When it rains there at least I will be able to stay in the house and eat gluten-free pizza - which of course will ONLY go to my bust instead of my bottom. That's Italy for you.

As planned, I got the train down to Exeter after radiotherapy finished, taking with me a raging sore throat and an exciting new bald patch. The throat calmed down eventually after about a week to my joy - scones and clotted cream time!! However, a surprising twist: since I decided to rashly ignore my radiologist's advice and swim in the 3 pools available in Devon, I ended up with a truly spectacular outbreak of irritant contact dermatitis (eczema) from chlorine. But not on my irradiated neck- oh no, it was on MY FACE. Readers, I was hideously deformed for at least 4 WHOLE DAYS. I was scaly, erythematous, swollen, tiny-eyed and itchy as hell. It was not good. (I took many obsessive dermatological photos but I wouldn't want to give you nightmares, so I won't put them up. Seriously: I looked like an orc/Harry Potter after a Stinging Hex.)

This led to a parental banning from the pools and thus left me with no way to work off the clotted cream except by walking in FitFlops (or ConFlops, as Michael calls them) and going to the antiquated gym. So I passed the time avoiding mirrors like the plague, reading, making ratatouille and hanging with Georgina who came to visit.

Then I invited myself to the Devonshire Chez Weatherdon to escape from a fate worse than death - camping. Yes, the Swiss Family Mad headed off into the wilds of Dorset with a tent. I don't camp, so I fled to a better life; one full of paella, sea swimming, amazing pubs, blackberry-picking, freckly sisters and flapjacks. Unfortunately my camera battery ran out before I could build up an adequate photographic record so these will have to do...

Alas, it was all too short and so Monday evening found me back in Robin Hood country again... where I have been baking blackberry muffins with BJ gals and trying my darnedest not to feel tired from radiotherapy. I have been on TWO runs of 4 and 3 miles. So there.

We have also been celebrating Michael's freakishly good GCSE results (Pizza Express tonight! Am taking pre-prepared home-made gluten-free base and am very excited at prospect of first English restaurant pizza in 4 years.)

Throat has been OK - just a slight soreness when I forget myself and take big mouthfuls. Good way to be more ladylike... dainty nibbles, Rosalind! Voice still a bit husky with annoying tendency to shoot up and squeak like teenage choirboy. Neck is slightly red and itches from time to time. Oh and the face reaction settled down eventually after lashings of E45 cream and aloe vera. I have absolutely no idea why it exploded like that - perhaps the whole of my skin was up in arms about the radiotherapy damage and decided to teach me a lesson for messing with chlorine.

Here's a bit of a lymphoma shout-out - the Beacons of Hope Awards are taking nominations until Monday, so if there's someone you think should get an award, go tell the Lymphoma Association here! I nearly got Isobel to email them and nominate me but felt that would be a little dishonest and I should wait for true appreciation, if I do deserve any!
UPDATE about 2 secs later: blumming hell! have just got an email from them and I AM NOMINATED!!!! no idea by whom but thank you thank you thank you :)

I hope you all have a great Bank Holiday weekend, weather permitting... Will be returning to third year on 7th September (a week late so I have more time to recover my strength and grow some more hair) despite failing to muster up any enthusiasm for the prospect. Oh well... maybe it will come eventually once I get back into the swing of all things medical. Off out now - pizza here I come! Until next time my dears.