Route 73

The radiotherapy fatigue seems to be kicking in - not helped by having a couple of late afternoon appointments which means the whole day seems to be spent on the wretched 73 bus. The morning crowd are bearable in their collective misery but the same cannot be said for the afternoon brigade - who, despite all my recent buddhist reading, invariably reduce me to considering acts of extreme violence.

Things that annoy me most

1. People who listen to music on their mobile phone - without headphones - so that the fifty people crammed in around them have to experience the endless earsplitting tinny beat from the phone's micro speaker. Hell on earth - particularly when two or more mobile dictators set up in competition with each other.

2. People who spend the entire journey talking on their mobile phone. 'Shuu-uuup Man, naaaahhh you shuuu-uuuup, wassat? Naah man, shuuu-uuup yar maaafff man'. Forty five minutes without a consonant from the gorgeous Turkish girl standing so close I could feel her breath on my right ear. I also now know exactly where and when the blonde in front of me will be holding her birthday drinks party and that the young man who got off at Clissold Crescent has someone bringing him 3 valium. Bloody Hell - should have got off with him.

3. People who sit next to you and eat Kentucky fried chicken from a box with their fingers. This requires no elaboration.

Is it just me or do these people really consider themselves to be of such supreme importance that the physical comfort of others is completely irrelevant? My father says it is better than in his day when they had to put signs up asking people not to spit on the bus.

The weekend has been quiet and I've been able to catch up on a bit of much needed rest. The bus kicked us all off at Euston on Friday so I walked the rest of the way to the hospital arriving puffed out, late, out of breath and out of sorts. Sat there looking at all the old men with prostate cancer and the old women wearing wigs and wondering how the hell I got into this predicament. Francois must have had some kind of sixth sense because he phoned just as I was having a minor breakdown in the loo and helped me to pull myself together. I was warned that one of the side effects of radio is emotional instability so I have to remind myself that this too will pass.

The kids are now wending their way to Shropshire with my father and the au pair - so silence reigns until Friday. The thrill of not having to produce 15 meals a day is starting to sink in and I have been able to lie in bed reading about Heather Mills as seen through the eyes of her manicurist without a single interruption.

My lovely heavily pregnant cousin Jane and I have been swapping crises and comfort recipes and I made her version of a Lancashire hotpot yesterday which ticked all the boxes. Cheap, copious, easy and quick (if you don't count the 4 hours it spends in the oven.) I think when all this is over there might be a cookbook in it.