“I need a walk,” she said, vehemently.  The problem was, she couldn’t – walk that is.  Her cancer had put her in a wheelchair and made her blind. She craved the fresh air and independence. Suddenly she decided that was it – she was having this no more.  She got hold of her wheelchair arm, and falteringly took one step.   


Yesterday I returned to my special place, where Inhad tried to walk Rhea other day. This time I went up the path in my wheelchair, as, if I managed to get to where Ivwanted to be – the door of the little church – I wanted to sit for a while as I used to do. The peace round that side of the church is incredible, and in fact, there is what S called a Quiet Garden there. Only it isn’t really a garden. It is a little wild, and there is a seat there beyond the trees from which you can see way into the distance. Way into the beyond, maybe.

I am not able to get there as it is over some rough ground where there are lots of beautiful trees. However, Ivdonlove to just sit on the path and enjoy the peace’s. No one usually disturbs me as not many people go there anyway.

Yesterday I landed in the mud! Although blind, if the sun shines in my eyes, I am in trouble! It was shining yesterday! I could not tell where I was at all, and, as Ivwas trying to round the corner of the building, My wheelchair (a powered one) suddenly came to a stop! It was also grinding, rather. I had no idea what had happened but my wheelchair just would not ove!

My husband was waiting in the car, and I yelled at the top of my voice. It took a while for him to her me. I wondered how long I was going to be stuck there!

In the end, did manage to make him hear me, and he came and pulled me out. I had accidentally gone onto the grass which was rather muddy – and got stuck!

Still, I heard some good birdsong whilst I was stuck in the mud!


It was way back in 2014 that I had the first signs of something being wrong with my eyes. In the greyness of what had now become my life, it was just one more affliction to endure. I was just over halfway through my chemotherapy treatment, and so weak that in between chemotherapy sessions I was bedfast. At times I was unable even to lift a fork or a spoon to my mouth. At that time life was grim. In fact at times I was barely alive in any real sense of the word. I was just about surviving, reacting only to strong stimuli for much of the time.

In the middle of this grim greyness, I had been becoming aware that the faces of the nurses on the chemotherapy ward were becoming blurred, but, having so much else to worry about, I could not think about it too much. If I thought at all I just thought that I would need new glasses if I ever got to the end of this nightmare. I could not contemplate it beng anything serious. As time went on, however, I was struggling a little bit more with my eyes, and one day, as I was leaving the hospital after a chemotherapy session, I failed to recognise one of the nurses whom I knew well.

“Hi Lorraine,” she shouted to me, as my brother and I waited in the corridor for the lift to take us to the ground floor. I was so exhausted that I could hardly sit up in my wheelchair, and all I wanted to do was get home and back into my bed.

“Who is it?” I asked, in a rather shaky voice.

“It’s Mandy,” she replied in a bewildered tone.

“Oh, hi,” I just managed to reply. As we waited for the lift, however, I felt the first pangs of anxiety. What was wrong with me? Why couldn’t I recognise people any more?

Despite my anxiety, as my eyes began to get worse, the haematologist simply said that I would need stronger lenses in my glasses at the end of my treatment. In fact, unbeknown to us, the cocktail of strong drugs that I was receiving fortnightly, was known to cause eye problems. We were never informed about this. In time, we were to discover that the treatment that saved my life also made me go blind.


I was fed up with being serious so I started this story.mmto be continued each day.

“Oooh, look at that,” Babs exclaimed, eyes as big as saucers.

Across the busy road was a bungalow, and three men in hazmet suits were entering it. Lily looked, and though her curiosity was roused, she was a little more laid back than Babs. She and Babs knew each other well, for they were next door neighbours. Babs and Tim had moved up north from London many years ago, followed by their whole extended family, as living was much cheaper here than in London, and they could actually afford to buy a house. But Babs always seemed to be in the centre of something. Usually a row with some neighbour. Indeed, Lily and Joe had had their times with her. One time, two rats appeared on Lily and Joe’s patio, looking as if they owned the place. Lily was of course non too happy, and was even less happy when Babs looked at her with those saucer eyes and said,

“Yes. You’d better get Pest Control in TODAY. They’re YOUR rats.” Well Lily failed to see how they could be her own personal rats, but she put off her Adult Class at the local College for that morning, though inwardly she was seething. Why should she have to put HER class off that she so enjoyed each week! It turned out just as Lily had expected. The rats were from the drain that ran at the side of the hotel just a few yards up from their row of houses.

And then there was the time that Lily andJoe returned home early from a camping trip, only to find Babs and Tim tearing down their fence in the back garden. They had arrived home late at night, and had not noticed anything until the next morning. Lily was in the bath at the moment when Joe discovered what was happening. He yelled at Lily in the bath in anger, telling her what was happening. Babs and Tim were out there unashamedly attacking their fence. Lily, completely naked, and with wet hair flying everywhere, ran to the landing window and leaned out screeching at Babs and Tim,

“What the hell do you think you’re doing with our fence? I’ll get my solicitor onto you.”

“It’s rotten. Look,” yelled back Tim.

“I don’t care. You get your hands off my fence,” shrieked Lily.

Lily could hardly contain herself, and started off down the stairs.

“Hey, you can’t go out like that. You’ve got no clothes on. You’ll get arrested.”

“It’s them that need arresting,” screamed Lily. “They’ve no right to touch our fence.”

Joe ran after Lily, got hold of her, and pushed her back up the stairs.

“Get some clothes on,” he said. “I’ll get some breakfast going. I’ll sort it out later with them.”

Lily was feeling quite hungry, so she acquiesced.

“As long as you go and knock their blocks off later on,” Lily said.

So when it came to men in hazmet suits going into the bungalow across the road, Lily was kind of used to things like this by now. Still, she did think it a bit queer, and she told Joe about it that night.


A poem that I wrote in 2017 that reminds me of being able to see. One of my favourite poems

By the river the willow stood
Weeping for all that was lost that was good
Bowed down with grief sore tears did fall
How could she bear this bitter gall
It seemed her name was written in blood

Her life was gone however could
She carry now her cross of wood
With every step she took a fall
By the river

But light would come, the green tree would
Bear again the bright Spring’s bud
Hear once more the sweet birds call
Hope spread its strong wings over all
There never would be old deadwood
By the river


She wasn’t very DIGNIFIED. But she was Jose’s best friend. The two of them had met at a Philosophy class. Jose and Muriel that is. They hit it off immediately. Jose had the same surname as the Scottish island that Muriel came from, and Muriel had a daughter named Jose too. So all in all it was decided that they definitely should be friends. The only problem was, Muriel was slightly mad. Mad being the operative word.

Jose quickly became Muriel’s TRANSPORT. Not that Jose minded really. She quite enjoyed her jaunts with Muriel, despite the madness.

One day, they were going down the ROAD together, Jose singing a humorous song, and they stopped in a lonely wooded area, jose thought that they might go for a walk together. Suddenly, Muriel announced,

“I committed murder once you know.”

“I committed murder once you know.”

Jose stiffened. Was she really hearing this right? But before she had much time to think, Muriel had


Sitting under the rowan tree
I know this place is hallowed
I hear feet walking,
Bells tolling,
Souls weep into
People chattering
I hear steps that are light
Steps that are heavy
Steps that are gay
Steps laden with sorrow,
I sit in the dark
I sit in the light
With the sun, the moon, the stars,
In the rain
In the heat
In the wind
My soul aching, laughing, singing, sighing, striving,
With those who have gone before,
And somehow all is sacred,
All is held in the seamless robe of time become eternity,
And I know
Without a doubt
That this place is hallowed
I sit on hallowed ground