My Birthday!

My birthday. Kids squabbled over breakfast, most of my cards brought tears to my eyes - such kind thoughts - and I'm a year older.

Just reading a BMA blog by Anna Donald, who had breast cancer 5 years ago and whose CT scan "lit up like a Christmas tree" in February. So she's having desperate treatment and expecting to die. Which is awful, and obviously is my fear, but what's interesting is that even with that, you still function, you still get on with things. Or she does. And what else can you do? You have to keep going, someone has to buy the toothpaste, do the washing up, get the kids to school on time (late this morning, actually).

I still have this cold. I'm a bit worried I won't shake it off before next week and they won't do me. I need a surgery date, I need to get myself organised. Aussie says it's just logistics, and we will sort it out.

It's raining and I want to be planting. My chillis are coming through.