The bust is springing out all over

The very nice nurse at Macmillan fitted me with a prosthesis with 'detachable' nipple. What an occasion! We all huffed and we puffed with various Dolly Parton effects until finally I've got a matching pair.



Tiny problem later when I forgot I was wearing it and it dropped out, only to be saved by my son who gingerly passed it back to me with words never to be forgotten: '"mother, here's your breast". At 14, he says I have ruined him for life...

Spring is busting out all over

This weird but lovely weather has raised the spirits and the Tamoxifen-induced temperature. The hot sweats are unbelievable, I am waiting for a walk-in fridge to be delivered to my bedroom.

I have had better luck researching hand creams. And the winner is: olive oil cream from Camper Hotel, Barcelona or pure Jamaican cocoa butter. If you are not passing either of these countries, then try (expensive) L'Occitane Shea butter dry skin hand cream or Ortigia hand cream, any, they all smell gorgeous.

Back in the real pasty gate world, try Vaseline essential moisture multi layer moisture with those all important 'pure oat extract statys' (?!) or Supadrugs own cocoa butter body butter. The best of the cheaper brands is Aveeno, available at all good and rubbish supermarkets. Ignore all the bumph, but in the words of the mags: "we love the naturally active colloidal oatmeal".

Oatmeal seems to feature and it's good in Muesli, so what about a homemade if messy solution? Mix a handful of muesli with olive oil and in a darkened, locked room, rub it all over your body. If times have got really tough for you too, you can then go on to eat it...




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I'm a tennis ball

I can't sing like Sinead O'Connor but the head looks like hers or a new tennis ball, but not luminous. Yet.

The stolen trike

I hope he/she got his/her trike back.

This was an enterprising poster I saw in the window of a house in the North Laine, Brighton a couple of summers ago. Little did I know then that I would know exactly how the small owner and the voodoo doll would feel.

When I saw the oncologist I recommended he try a course of chemo, just to understand how it makes his patients feel. I also told him that if I died, I would haunt him. Poor man, he didn't deserve the wrath of chemo woman.

All the chemo is finished now, so I should be better?

Tell that to the mouth ulcers and the constipation. The heavy breathing should win me the elusive Bafta alone. And since starting Tamoxifen I think the springs in the sofa have gone. The Housewives of Orange County don't have these problems... Daytime telly has taught me so much. I will ask the surgeons to forget the breast implants, they are so last year. The housewives are having breast reductions now and cheekbone implants. I wonder if you can get that on the NHS? And I know all about decluttering, (GUTTED) refurbishment,  (my flat pack home) and am almost friends with permanently-pregnant Sarah Beeny and her maladjusted mansion. (I bought a huge house and need Channel Four to pay for it).

Spring is here!

so why do I feel sooooooo rubbish still?