I’m not dieting. I probably should do some dieting, but I’m not actively playing that game. I consider it to be a good day when I have eaten my five a day and I’ve been outside. But I am here, today, writing about dieting.

I have an attitude towards food where it’s all ok in moderation. If you want to loose weight, I understand the “less in, more out” philosophy. I understand that you need to eat less and move more. I get all that. I understand all that. I’m not stupid.

But, I know someone who is.

Welcome back Flossie.

Now, I know that I give some terrible advice, but I only give such terrible advice to people who I know are intelligent. For example, last night when I was messaging Nic – she was eating a McDonald’s and I said it’s ok if a) husband was eating McDonald’s too (calories cancel each other out) or b) if she asked for a knife and fork (calories fall out when you cut your food).

An intelligent person would think “very funny” or “she doesn’t know what she’s talking about”. I personally only know one person who would take me literally at my word: a 52-year-old, educated woman who is supposed to be somewhat intelligent. In fact, I like to think that she knows that I am taking the piss but is just being a greedy gob anyway.

Now I bring you to the part of this story where I have burnt my nose. I began choking on tea last night – hot tea – and my nose is now a bit numb.

There I was, drinking my tea and I had five notifications in very quick succession telling me that Flossie has decided that fats don’t cause weight gain – only carbs do that and, therefore, it’s ok that she eats her eight (yes, 8) sausages each morning because she doesn’t have any digestive problems which prevents her from processing fats. As my step-mum has pointed out – sausages contain ‘carbs’ – they are “filled out” with breadcrumbs. And, as Fi has also pointed out – carbs don’t cause weight gain, eating too much causes weight gain.

As I said at the top: I believe in having things in moderation. I don’t see the point in cutting anything out – that’s only going to make me want something more. But, I’m also not a greedy gob like Flossie. I don’t eat a Big Mac meal with five hamburgers on the side. I don’t eat an entire bargain bucket for myself. I don’t eat two large pizza’s in one sitting. I cannot eat three cooked meals, plus snacks and desserts, in one day – I really would be very sick.

I understand that we’re all different sizes with different habits but I do wonder how much damage Flossie is doing with her attitude to food – what example is she setting for her children? When she is issuing this kind of advice, what are her children hearing? Surely we should encourage “moderation” (and exercise) rather than “carbs are bad” and “fat is good”? If fat doesn’t really make you gain weight, I wonder why the “experts” push oven chips over my favourite deep fried variety of chips? If fat really doesn’t cause weight gain, why don’t they serve blocks of lard in my favourite places to eat?

Thankfully, I am able to put my fears to the back of my mind because I hear that the nine-year-old boy laughed at Flossie’s speech regarding fats/carbs/8 sausages. If Horace is laughing, we know Flossie isn’t making sense…

Who ate all the pie?

October 2017 revisited

Out and about...

I took a trip to Ireland at the beginning of the month, which was a bit of an adventure. I’d not really done a holiday where I haven’t had beds booked or a solid plan of destination, so it was quite nice. It was different to be carefree and uncommitted to any given place. I have a mass of photos on my computer relating to this trip which Rayna sat through. We played a game: Where’s Wally? because some of my photos contain my holiday buddy, but he’s hidden on the mountain sides! I haven’t posted any on social media yet, because there really are loads! But here’s my favourite one:

Taken one evening near Letterfrack, Co. Galway.

I’ve been on (another) steam train… Actually, I’ve been on two. One I went with a friend and another I went with my family. Both were very good and I recommend them both.

Onboard the Ffestiniog Railway

I did write a boring blog post about an amazing curry that I had while moaning that I had to wait for 2 hours to get it because of restaurants tricking me with takeaway menus when their eat-in menus are so different. But, amazing curries aren’t the only thing I’m excited about eating this month…

Ok, I’m missing burgers, but after regurgitating a couple (while on strong pain killers), I don’t think I could possibly eat a burger for a very long time. Unfortunately, I have discovered chicken burgers. The chicken burgers are probably a bit healthier than the beef burgers. Or, that’s the lie that I am telling myself.

I’ve also gotten myself a “vegetable sharpener”. Or, a spiraliser. Not a posh one. It’s not an electric one. It’s just one that I can use to sharpen my vegetables to make courgette into long strands like spaghetti. It’s actually quite fun – I get to eat the bits of vegetable that I can’t sharpen, so, I have tried some raw courgette and actually prefer it to cooked courgette!! And, it’s better to eat a lump of carrot than to get another biscuit out…

“Spiralised” (or sharpened) carrot and courgette

I have, until this month, had three knitting projects on the go: a scarf, a shawl and another shawl (which I actually think is a big scarf!). I now have only two knitting projects in progress as I have (finally) completed the scarf. I made a mistake at the end, so I abandoned the pattern that I was working to and I switched to a moss stitch for the remainder of the wool that I had and fashioned a ‘pocket’ that the scarf can roll into. The pattern was repeated over four rows:

Row 1: knit
Row 2: purl
Row 3: k1, k2tog x3, [yo, k1] x6, k2tog x6, [yo, k1] x6, k2tog x6, [yo, k1] x6, k2tog x3, k1
Row 4: knit


I complained to O2 that being an adult sucks. I spent one afternoon looking at house insurance and thinking of ways I can save money. One of the ways was to terminate my contract with O2 and switch to the Pay As You Go option. However, because being an adult sucks, O2 sent me a box of stuff. It was a nice surprise to receive in the post, but Twittering (?) a thank you just wound up with me being unindated with notifications saying “I’m a customer of X years” and “where’s mine?”. All I did was complain being an adult sucks. It’s not my fault that they sent me a nice box of stuff, is it?

The box of stuff from O2

The drinking bottle thing is quite good – it doesn’t leak (LOL) or taste of plastic. I don’t know how the Smart Power Card + thing works, but it’s in my bag. Presumably I will have to charge it after using it…?

A week of Flossie

A week feels more like a month when I’m around certain people. I love spending time with my younger siblings, so I have to tolerate Flossie. Thankfully, Grandad was able to come and I ended up having a flying visit home to see Nanna (who had to stop at home).

The most important thing to emphasise about the last week of October is that Flossie survived. It’s an impressive feat each time.

The kids and I went for a walk – a small walk, because I still can’t do a long walk. Grandad and I sourced a new sofa, and we had a trip on a steam train along a lake. I think the kids definitely had a good time. I enjoyed spending time with them all, that’s for sure. I taught Himmy how to knit, and we made soup together.


I saw my Oncologist and Haematologist this month. I’m guessing at some point in the near future I shall return to see the Gynaecologist, but this hasn’t yet been communicated to me.

The Oncologist is happy, so I’m happy.

My Haematologist is happy, so I’m happy.

I’ve also played the Lotto because the Haematologist said if there were any justice in the world, that I would win. I’m yet to check the ticket. I’m too scared to find out that I’m not a millionaire…


If there’s any justice in this world…

I had to see my haematology doctor today. We had a chat about the summer I’ve had. We both agreed that it’s been quite unfair. Unfortunately, the risks were there all along, because of the strong chemotherapy and the total body irradiation I required for my bone marrow transplant in 2009. We spoke about my reawakening fears – which feel very real now – regarding a ‘third’ (technically only a second) malignancy because the risk of lymphoma’s in post bone marrow transplant patients is a very real risk.

We spoke about my complete and utter lack of faith in my GP surgery – the fact that I can’t always be phoning them or at the door at 8:30am to make an appointment if I’m sick, and the fact that I cannot make an appointment for in a couple of weeks to discuss various things. The haematology doctor has reassured me that nothing would ever go undetected – if I can’t get an appointment, I’m to ring the hospital. I actually do feel reassured by this.

But then we spoke, in some depth, about my summer. It’s just unlucky that this happened but I am ok now. But he did say that if there was any justice in the world, that I would win the Lotto…

So Grandad and I have bought four lucky dips for tonight’s draw. I’ll check the numbers tomorrow. We’ll see if there’s any justice in the world…

A bullet of yesterday

8am I was awake before the alarm but I still set it to snooze as I had a look at Facebook and read a few pages of my Viz annual. I kept an eager eye on the time because I had to brown the stewing steak and add an onion to my pot of vegetables which were waiting to be turned into a beef stew in the crock pot. After having some breakfast (buttered toast), I hot footed it upstairs to wash and dress so that I was out of the door by 9:30am.

10:30am was the time of my appointment. I parked at the park and ride and I was in the clinic for good time. However, I was kept waiting. There were patients before me who needed more time. I probably also took up more time than I was allotted, so I won’t complain. I finally got seen at gone 11:30. My only complaint was that I was sat under the television having to listen to Homes Under the Hammer and whatever drivel followed that. It could have been worse. It could have been Jeremy Kyle. Consultant was happy with what she saw, but that entailed me going onto do another mission…

12:45pm I was getting a bit anxious that I needed to be home for the afternoon, so quickly ditched my retail therapy plan and made a beeline for the pharmacy where I collected my single 150mg dose of Fluconazole for the thrush that the consultant has seen. I have to return tomorrow (or today because this blog post is being published tomorrow) to collect HRT patches. I also purchased some paracetamol as it’s clear that I really do still need them. While waiting for my prescription to be dispensed, I went across the road to the bakery and spent £2.70 on a current slice and a Cornish pasty. I then went home, ate my lunch and browsed Pinterest while I waited for the Avon lady to come with my new lipsticks, etc.

5:45pm I’m home and waiting for someone (else) to call in. During the afternoon, I have been to Lidl (I bought a birthday present), The Range (I bought some personal stationary for myself and browsed kitchen stuff) and to Tesco where I bought what I set out to buy – a ‘gate’ clothes airer for £7. I then called into see the Recycled Teens where we had a catch up of their weekend away and my week away.

6:30pm I have had my guest call round and leave. I have hoovered upstairs and dusted. I haven’t done any real housework in a few weeks and I live under a quarry. Things get dusty and Flossie is coming on the week of the 23rd of October. I don’t want her to be moaning about my “dust” and her asthma. I think it’s tea time now…

8pm It’s time to settle down on the sofa and watch TV. My dinner is eaten, my washing up is done and I have a French Fancy and a cup of tea waiting for me.


I might end up falling asleep on the sofa, or I might actually make it up the stairs.

It’s been quite a dull and unadventurous day, really, hasn’t it? Tomorrow (today) is even duller, with not a plan in sight…


Admittedly, this is an odd title to use to give a big update to the people I know. I thought now was time to confess what I’ve been up to during the British summer that we’ve just experienced. I have (I hope) succeeded in keeping my private life off Facebook. Now that my summer has come to an end, I would like to be honest and share what’s been going on in my life.

Before I open my heart and confess all, I would like you to respect the fact that some people don’t know that this blog exists so the status sharing this link has been hidden from them and I would like it to remain that way…

Some of you already know where this blog post is headed for. If I haven’t told you, please don’t be offended. Maybe we’re not that close. Maybe we haven’t spoken in a very long time. Maybe this isn’t something that I could put in an e-mail. Maybe I didn’t want the sympathy. Maybe I wanted to be left alone to deal with this on my own terms and in my own way without worrying about my privacy and being harassed with unneeded and unwanted sympathy. Please don’t forget that I’ve been here before. I’ve lived through a period where everyone knew my business, and I didn’t really know who knew what. Whatever the reason you don’t know, it doesn’t matter; please don’t be offended because no one really had a right to know anything in the first place.

There’s nothing anyone could have done for me anyway. It’s not like someone else could have taken my place or dealt with the problems that I’ve had. If I have needed practical help, I’ve known who to ask.

You see, my summer hasn’t been all as exciting as I let Facebook believe. And that’s ok!! I have deliberately kept this off Facebook because I haven’t wanted sympathy and I didn’t want to feel obliged to update people. I’m not public property. When I’ve been liking your statuses and giving you an LOL, and posting pictures about my garden and liking your pictures, I’ve actually been dealing with an incredibly serious situation. I have had an incredibly painful bladder. I’ve had diarrhoea something bad. My lady bits have felt as though I’ve been scrubbing them with sandpaper before drying them with a blow torch. My entire pelvic area has ached. I’ve felt so, so tired. Some days I’ve really felt quite sick.

Most importantly throughout the summer of 2017, my blood counts have been very good and I have not needed any transfusions.

No, I haven’t had a bad holiday… I have remained firmly within the confines of the United Kingdom…

My radiotherapy machine

At the end of May, I was diagnosed with cervical cancer. At first we hoped that it could just be chopped out like a disused pocket. I really hoped that it could be chopped out because then it was out. One doctor and I had already discussed the possibility of preventative surgery but I didn’t realise that it was so bad. Unfortunately, the cancer was too ‘progressed’ for me to have surgery, so I have been receiving radiotherapy. Because of my bone marrow transplant in March 2009, I wasn’t allowed chemotherapy, but I have been allowed radiotherapy. I’ve had 25 treatments of external radiotherapy and then I have had three treatments of internal radiotherapy (brachytherapy – not at all pleasant; linked to a Macmillan web page). In fact, one of these brachytherapy treatments fell on my birthday – but I still got my day out. Instead of a good drink, I had good drugs. But, most importantly, I still had birthday cake! I’ll take myself for a proper day out when I feel a bit less dependent on needing to empty my bladder continuously.

I go and see my oncology doctor next month – and I get another MRI after that – and then we’ll know what’s going on. Hopefully my summer of ’17 has done the job and that I can go back to living my life. The last brachytherapy had a very positive outcome – that my oncology consultant couldn’t see the cancer… Now, though, I’m starting to feel the effects of the menopause (hot flushes, more than anything) so I’ll be popping the HRT pills sooner than I hoped.

Where possible, I have stayed smiling throughout the summer 🙂

If anything, this experience has taught me a couple of things:

  1. I am ok on my own.
  2. Life really isn’t fair. I don’t deserve cancer after having to have a bone marrow transplant. No one does. It’s really not fair.
  3. I don’t just hate sympathy – I despise it. It does me no good and it makes me feel worse. It really can turn a good day into an incredibly crappy one because I know I wouldn’t be getting this sympathy and/or attention if it weren’t for the fact I’m in the situation I’m in.
  4. I am now determined to do my utmost to not be working minimum wage jobs on zero-hour contracts which involve unsociable hours (where possible) by my next birthday! When I lay it out, all I am is a glorified slave making someone above me richer who gets to do less work and enjoy life more than me. It’s time that I make all my own dreams come true and live off the profit from that. As Bridget Jones says in the last move: #letsdothis

I am currently requiring pain relief on a daily basis. Some days I need stronger stuff than other days. I have gotten myself a routine – I have been getting all my errands done that involve using my car, done in the morning when I’m only needing paracetamol. I really can’t do anything that requires adult supervision once I’ve taken the co-codamol – definitely need the adult supervision when I have had the oramorph!

I don’t really make a habit of sharing my blog via my Facebook page, but if it’s something that you would like to read, you can subscribe to it or follow me Twitter (@beckysefton) where it’s automatically shared. Relating to this blog post, I have (in recent weeks) written other posts which kind of tie into this:

Motivation is sleeping

My motivation at the moment is somewhat lacking. I feel tired, I feel fed up, and I feel like things are piling up even though they aren’t.

I have my weekly cleaning chores. I’m not doing them to my 100% satisfaction. My printer is dusty. My desk is a mess. My bathroom bin is almost over flowing. My kitchen floor needs a jolly good mopping. My car needs hoovering out. Every time I consider doing one of these chores, I have a nap instead.

I have projects which are all in progress – two knitting projects (both gifts) just lying around half completed. I have personal projects which are in several different places and at different stages. I keep thinking that I’ll be more motivated after 40 winks, but I’m not.


I have lots of things on the Netflix to watch and a few things on the iPlayer to watch but instead I find myself watching Carry On films on DVD under my quilt on my sofa where I end up having a little snooze.

I feel like “oh, I’ll do it tomorrow”. But you know what? These things are stacking up and they really are just things. When I have a rat infestation, or I have mould growing out of my freezer, then I know that I need to do my chores. Until then, my motivation is sleep. I’ll sleep to motivate myself to completing these tasks when I’m ready. 🙂 For now – this is where my motivation lies and many of my dreams are being dreamt:


Do you have children?

I think the most annoying question that I’m asked can differ depending on my circumstances, but right now, it goes a little bit like this:

Them: “How many children do you have?”
Me: “None”
Them: “Oh, you don’t want children?”

Or, it goes a little bit like this:

Them: “Do you have children?”
Me: “No”
Them: “You don’t want them?”

Then my responses can open up new dialogue:

Me: “I can’t have children”
Them: “They told me that and look now! I have ten!”


Me: “I’m infertile”
Them: “Doctors get it wrong all the time. My cousin’s friends aunties goldfishes previous owner’s mother-in-laws great-nieces friends sister’s teacher’s daughter was told the same and she’s just had quadruplets!”


Me: “I don’t want children”
Them: “You’re only 30, you’re still young. You’ll change your mind, you see…”

Leaving alone the fact that I don’t want children, the option has been taken away from me. My treatment will bring on the menopause. I don’t mind people asking if I have children, or how many I have – but I wish they would shut the foxtrot up when I respond with “no, I don’t have children”.

This is a rather sensitive subject, really. Maybe I’m a bit tougher to it. I’m not afraid to walk away. I’m not afraid to tell someone that they know absolutely nothing about me. But, it could be worse. I could be less tough. I could be vulnerable. It could be an incredibly sensitive topic and their follow-up comments don’t help.

You see, not every childless female past the age of 16 is wanting, or able to have, a baby. Some of us are too selfish to facilitate this life-changing addition to our lives. Some of us have had treatment that have left us unable to have children. Some of us don’t want children because we fear they could inherit something bad. Some of us can’t have children because it would endanger our own lives. Some of us don’t want children because we can’t afford a child. Some of us don’t want children because we don’t have a father for said child (and therefore can’t have a child).

I wonder why it’s ok to follow-up with such questions? I don’t ask “are you married?” and then follow-up with questions about their sex lives. These things are quite personal. I get asked about marriage, too. Do I have a partner? Do I have a husband? When I say no they presume that I’m some kind of “loose lady” or they tell me “you’ll meet Mr. Right soon enough” or “are you a lesbian?”… I can’t just be “single”… Or, worse, I’ve been out with my brother and it’s been presumed that he’s my husband…

So, I blog this question (about children) because it really is an insensitive question to follow-up on when someone tells you that they don’t have children. Yes, I’m tough. Yes, I have a hard exterior. But, sometimes, that exterior is cracked.

When someone says that they don’t have children, it’s not an open invitation to pacify them with “your time will come” and patronise them with any similar comment. Just as it isn’t helpful to tell someone who can’t have a child “well, you can always adopt” (because, we’re dumb and no one has thought of telling us that / we haven’t figured it out for ourselves yet). Sometimes, the best response is silence. Sometimes, the best response is to shut up. Sometimes, the best response is to change the subject.

Would you tell a widow “it’s ok, you can always remarry”? No? Why’s that an insensitive comment to make when follow-up comments about not having children are ok? I’m somewhat confused…