Rest for the wicked

Old people keep talking to me about death. I am not making this up - but in the last week three separate octogenarians have talked to me candidly and with no prompting, about what it's like being at the other end. I don't know why it hadn't really occurred to me before but of course anyone who is in their late eighties must dwell on this matter quite a lot. It's quite reassuring - suddenly don't feel so alone. (Or Hurrah, we're all going to die!)

The week has perked up enormously since yesterday when I spent a most lovely day in town. First to cancer clinic - where I was told I must rest more and conserve energy and say no to absolutely everything that may be a drain on my internal resources and that resting is the single most important thing to do in the year after treatment - more important even than diet or exercise. What thoroughly good news. Then on to Shoon - the greatest shoe shop in the world for the fat footed - where I bought not one, not two but THREE pairs of shoes (I am still pretending to Francois I only got two and one is at the back of the cupboard) and then on to Trevor Sorbie to spend the voucher I got from my old friend Susanne as a welcome to the world of hair present, where I managed to spend enough money on products to get a free towel (or possibly the world's most expensive towel). The result is a frighteningly high hair/cost ratio given that it is now even shorter than before, but I feel a lot more like a short haired person and a lot less like my history teacher.

I've talked before about my many obsessions relating to cancer - here is a list of them:

All parabens (in almost all creams, lotions and potions)
Deodorants
Underwired bras
Non organic food
Plastic
Organic food wrapped in plastic (this one drives me MAD)
Coffee
Alcohol
Sugar
All dairy produce
Meat
Microwaves
Lap tops (unless sitting on a pillow on lap)
Chemical cleaning products
Exercise

etc etc I'm afraid the list just goes on and on.

Anyway it was interesting last night on my weekly telephone support group run by breast cancer care that we all had some or all of these worries - even adding 'owning dogs' or 'living within 20 miles of a nuclear power station' on their list - but the only one thing we all have in common is breast cancer. One woman, the youngest of 6 girls, spent her life exercising, does not drink alcohol or eat dairy and is the only one of her siblings (all of whom smoke heavily and weigh between 15 and 20 stone) to have cancer. The point to all this I suppose is that it is really not worth beating yourself up.

Taking recent doctor's advice most seriously, I spent this morning having green tea with Tamsin and then enjoyed an excellent lunch at Otto Lenghi whose partner must be up there as one of the luckiest people alive. It's the only restaurant that you come out of feeling healthier than when you went in - despite having a full fat, full dairy apple and vanilla cake for pudding.

Now having a lie down, (with lap top on a cushion of course).