Tomorrow is the 4th chemo out of 6. Dreading it as usual, but if we're looking at the map of the UK again, I reckon I'll be in Glasgow by tomorrow...almost at John O'Groats.
Its the Easter Hols, and whilst the 6 year old was staging her second attempt to win a medal on a football course, the 9 year old decided he would just stay at home with his mum. Little did he know that I wouldn't be letting him play on the wii all day - I had other plans.
I fancied a walk - a good old fresh air walk in the hills.
The little rucksack came out, and in went a flask of tea, a bottle of juice, 2 packets of cheese and onion crisps and 2 Twirls.
Who would have thought that a 6 mile walk in the hills would be so fab, but it was. We were mobbed by a dozen Shetland ponies, we plodged in the claggy clarts, we listened to the birds, and we scoffed our Twirls for strength before tackling a gigantic steep climb - worth the view at the top.
But the company was the best bit. Putting the world to rights with my 9 year old son was magic, and we both agreed that we'd do it again soon....