Lockdown

Empty tank

A CT scanner. 

Well the senna tablets worked! I had my mapping scan today and my insides were as desired (ie not full).  The quick scan said all was good, so it was time to set me up for the full scan. They inserted a canula in my right arm and ... OW! For some reason it was very painful. So they tried the left arm, and that was fine.

The marker fuild went in - it's a weird feeling, your hands go hot, it tingles as it goes into the vein, and it also makes you feel like you have let loose your bladder. You don't, but that's how it feels. Weird. I lay still, knees up, pants down, hands on my chest, and the machine buzzing around me.

The scan didn't take too long, but once the mapping had been done, I needed my tattoos. Three small black dots (in the centre of two felt pen lines crossed) - one on each hip, and one on my abdomen.

The new cold frame

The scan took shots of my insides at 2mm intervals - so the area they covered must have meant a lot of 'slices' of scan. Each one of those has to be looked at, and the treatment plan developed accordingly. Then it has to be signed off by the team (oncologist, radiologist, and maybe others), before my treatment can be booked.

In about two weeks time I will get notified when my treatment will start, and then I'll need to take the oral chemo as well as undergo the therapeutic radiotherapy. I can't say I'm looking forward to it, but I am looking forward to it starting so that the end will be nearer.

Still being positive, and whilst I have to wait, I am doing a lot of gardening and been building things out of wood.

Photo of CT Scanner (C) Cancer Research UK

Useful links
About CT Scans - from CRUK
Radiotherapy - from Bowel Cancer UK

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Crocs in the Fens
A proper gander
Food security

Too full

Yes, it really is me in here

I went for my planning scan at the hospital. This is where they map out where my tumour is, and line me up (including some marker tattoo dots) to make sure that the treatment hits the same spot every time.

But first they do a little scan just to make sure they can see everything. And they couldn't. I was 'too full'. So I did a little emptying and then returned to the scanner. Still too much.

I went into the booth and looked at my scan on screen. I could see my insides, my upper intestine and the lower gut. The 'dark matter' was the problem! The more matter in there, the wider they have to do the scan to make sure they hit the right area, and the wider the area, the more radiation contamination. So the smaller the area, the better. That meant they didn't want to do the scan this time round. It happens quite often, I was told. If I had known I would have perhaps eaten less the day before, but they don't want people to change eating habits. Instead I will have to make sure I am 'empty' before I go next time.

Last week when I saw the consultant he gave me immodium. This week the radiologist gave me senna. I am going to have an interesting few weeks, for sure!

My rescheduled scan is for next Wednesday. After then, hopefully, I'll know when I start radiotherapy.

I will have to watch my diet

Once I have completed my treatment, I will still have my tattoos - just small dots - but a permanent reminder. Sheena has her three tattoos from her radiotherapy too. We are both going to get one of our tattoo dots turned into a dragon tattoo. They'll be in different places, but when we look at them, we'll be reminded that we both went through hell, and came out smiling.

See also:

Scans

Treatment planning

Today we went to the hospital for my first proper consultation with the oncology team - in this case, radiotherapy.

I know that surgery is not an option at the moment, but the reassuring news is that the radiotherapy treatment regime would have been what happens first anyway, regardless of Covid-19.

We know the hospital well from Sheena's treatment last year - but it was so weird. The whole of the Wolverstone Ward area was empty - no chairs, no staff, the chemo ward itself closed and dark. We made our way through to radiotherapy - the last time we were there was when Sheena rung the bell. I hope to be doing that in due course too. The chemotherapy patients and others who need cancer treatment have been moved to a local private hospital.

Home made PPE 

Some of the staff wore PPE, some didn't. We took our own basic precautions - the face masks protect them, not us, which is just as important.

The Senior Registrar was very good at giving us time, and detail. He answered all our questions and explained things clearly. I saw the MRI scan of my insides - oops, that much fat?  I also saw my bladder, small intestine and - in the bowel - the denser shadow that is the tumour now known as Gertrude.

The initial plan is for five weeks of radiotherapy - Monday to Friday (I get weekends off, hooray). There will be some side effects, such as tiredness and possibly nausea, but from the sound of it nothing like the burning or pain that Sheena's radiotherapy caused. Different part of the body, different type of radiation I guess.

Along with the radiotherapy I will be taking a tablet form of chemotherapy. This will improve the result of the radiotherapy by10%. There may be side effects from this too, but if they get too bad, I can stop taking it.

After radiotherapy finishes, there will be a period of recovery. And then, if the national situation permits, I will be scheduled for surgery.

All in all it looks like I will be in for a pretty long haul of treatment and recovery, but I am optimistic. The outcome of this programme is 'cure'.

So, off to the hospital again on Thursday for the 'mapping scan', and perhaps some little marker tattoos, and then I hope to find out early next week when my radiotherapy will start.

Thank you for your support, encouragement and watch this space for more news on Gertrude and other things too.

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Little Lifts
Thesia
The City of Cats

Little lifts

Having cancer myself has, of course, sent both Sheena and I into a slightly more reflective frame of mind, especially when we think about the last 18 months. In October 2018, she was diagnosed with breast cancer and we went through a hell of a journey together. We have moved on so much - she is so much stronger and returning to her normal self. Her final treatment was in January, so it's still a recent memory, but we felt we were back on track.

We were to become very familiar with
the Wolverstone Ward (C) Ipswich Star

My recently diagnosed cancer is different and it will affect me in different ways. I'm very happy that there is no indication that I'll need chemotherapy (at the moment); I went to every one of Sheena's treatments, and although we tried to make them a positive experience, the physical, mental and long-term effects took a lot of getting over. For her, of course, but partially for me as observer too. Partners of loved ones going through chemo will know what I mean.

But I want to take you back to a moment that was pretty huge - when we first had the nature of Sheena's cancer confimred. We were taken into a family room, and sat down. A nurse entered, and left a bag by the vacant chair that faced us, and said she'd be right back. Sheena made a joke about seeing what was in it. In due course the nurse returned and told us the bad news, and also outlined what would happen next. This was so important for us - there was so much to take in, but the nurse was kind, patient and explained everything as clearly as she could.

(C) Little Lifts

At the end of the conversation, the nurse took the bag and gave it to Sheena. It was a box in a tote bag that said 'Little Lifts'. This was for Sheena, and provided by a local charity. The box contained many helpful items for someone who was going to have chemo - from an ice lolly mould (keeping the mouth cool helps), to little treats like chocolate and cordial. There was a soft plastic cutlery set (again for the sensitive mouth), and a number of other bits and pieces - all of which were a delight. Seemed odd to be getting a present for having cancer, but it did exactly what it said on the box, and gave Sheena a little lift at a difficult time.

I just wanted to take this opportunity to say thank you to Little Lifts, they made a difference then, and are still doing so now for others. Cancer hasn't stopped because of Covid-19. If you get a chance, donate to your local cancer charity (or Little Lifts if you can). Thank you.

Useful links:
Little Lifts
Ipswich and Colchester Hospitals Blossom Appeal
Breast Cancer information
Bowel Cancer information

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Attitude and examination
Missing people

In other news...

The plan for my treatment was originally indicated as surgery. But I spoke to my consultant today, and he has put me forward for radiotherapy.

Normally I'm sure surgery would have been the first step, but as there's a 5% chance of 'leakage' when they stitch your tubes back together, and that would mean a move to ICU, for now that kind of surgery is not first choice. I don't think I'm getting 'second choice' treatment though - my consultant has looked at my scans and decided on a treatment plan that will offer me the best treatment at the current time.

If in future I need surgery, so be it, but I am not too concerned. Although radiotherapy will have some effects, not the least of which will be making me tired, I am likely to recover much quicker than if I had surgery. So, apart from having a ray gun up my backside, things are looking OK.

Photo (C) Clkr.com

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Day 21 in the jungle
Under the knife
Kiss away time

Going on holiday

So Sheena and I have been in lockdown for several weeks.
We decided to take a break...


 After our first attempt to get away, we had to try again.



Watch this space for future updates, including 'Postcards from the caravan'.

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Chipmink Madness (one of my songs) - Youtube
Three strikes
Situational Awareness

Videographer: Sheena Stebbing

Desktop birdwatching

Working at home has some advantages, such as having my desk by the front window, next to the bird feeder. Today I put my camera on my desk, and thought I'd see what I might catch with a quick snap or two.

Here's some recent garden visitors:

Male greenfinch

Male chaffinch

Long tailed tit

Blue tit

Robin

George

Coal tit

Gus

Day 21 in the jungle

Well, maybe not day 21, and maybe not a jungle, but sometimes the posts and messages you read on social media make you feel like people out there are in dire straits. As in - they only have enough loo roll to last 17 months, or enough pasta to feed all of the Czech Republic.

I'm not being nasty, it's evident from food and produce shortages that panic buying has impacted the supply chain, and the result will be  they'll have loads of products going past their sell by date.

Wood from the fallen ash

My partner and I are self-isolating - we are both at risk for different reasons. Luckily for us at the moment this is not a problem - we live in a forest and our neighbour is away, so all we see are walkers with dogs passing by and the diligent forestry workers - cutting and transporting the pine (to make into toilet paper perhaps!).

I've hardly been out apart from walks when all the walkers have gone, but we are so lucky that we have a beautiful garden to occupy ourselves, and the biggest pile of wood to chop and stack ready for next winter.

We had plenty of food in stock, and we've  had a delivery from Sheena's son (yes, we'are all sanitised and cleansed from his 2m visit now), so we are pretty well set for a while if needed.

I built another wood store

I am still working from home - work has not stopped and in fact now more than ever we need help; our amazing NHS still rely on the air ambulance services around the country to help save lives every day, we can't put heart attacks and falls and crashes on hold because of Covid-19. I am very proud to be a fundraiser, and very lucky that I can do my job from the middle of a forest.

My main concern is that my upcoming cancer treatment may be delayed - and who knows by how long. Although I'm not overly worried at the moment, the thought of even going to hospital, where the beleagued NHS are struggling to keep themselves and their patients safe, is a little disconcerting.

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Fear
Nature's gift
East Anglian Air Ambulance

Photos (C) Carolyn Sheppard / Sheena Stebbing

Under the knife

This may be a greusome thought, but I'm actually really pleased to know that I have an operation coming up. Having seen Sheena go through chemotherapy, radiotherapy (the burns were so much worse than we had anticipated), and surgery, I know I'm getting off lightly. Well, as far as I know, that's all I'll need.

The cancer has not spread, the scans show no problems with my major organs. If bowel cancer spreads, it usually goes to lungs or liver, and they are confident I've no problems there.

The margins of the cancer are clear too, so the removal of it in my tubes should be relatively straightforward as well. This all bodes well for an excellent outcome!

But, of course, we are amid the most extraordinary healthcare crisis this planet has seen since the 1918 Spanish Flu epidemic, or even since the plague. Well, cancer surgery is going ahead but less urgent surgery (such as the plan for fixing my dodgy finger joints) are being cancelled.  They are also cancelling gall stone surgery - which I am sorry to hear. I remember that was so very painful!

So all in all, a good news day for me today. Next week I should get an appointment with my consultant, and then schedule in the surgery. After surgery at least six weeks off work, and probably six months before I'll be weilding the chainsaw in anger again, but I think that's a small price to pay.

Reminder - if you have unusual bowel symptoms, please get them checked. Don't wait until it may be too late. Your health matters. You matter. Take care.

Photo (C) The Simpsons / Matt Groenig

Useful links
Symptoms of bowel cancer
CRUK - about cancer
Ipswich Hospital Blossom Appeal

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Learning new skills
Ghost Stories
Adelong Morning

Scans

Fashionistah - not!

A Friday night - what better way to spend it than in the Radiography Department of Ipswich Hopsital.

My first scan was the MRI - this will determine what Gertrude is made of and how embedded she is in my gut. The MRI machine was quite comfortable but loud, as expected. I had headphones but not music - so I made music myself.

There were different scans, and different scans made different noises:

The 'underwater hurdy gurdy' - a repetitive thrum on a single note, I made up tunes that leapt around the base note.

The 'sewing machine' - a higher less musical note, a lot faster. I imagined a room full of sewing machines.

The 'food mixer' - this one shook the bed and was a lot lower in tone - I imagined myself being spun round as part of a very lumpy pesto.

Back again to a higher note, and slightly out of tune 'amateur hurdy hurdy' and I made up some more tunes. What a shame I'll never remember them!

I think some of my imaginative interpretations of the sounds may have been down to the intravenous Buscopan, which was rather relaxing. All in all I was in the scanner for around half and hour.

Still gowned up (ain't it a great look?) I was taken down to the CT scanner, and and IV drip put in. The scans were a lot quicker (and a lot quieter) but when they released the liquid in the IV into my veins (so that they are easier to see on the scan), it gave a weird sensation of a warmth all over and - that of having released fluid unintentionally (I hadn't, but they did warn me it would feel like this).

The CT scan will show whether Gertrude has any sisters anywhere else. I'm seriously hoping she's an only child.

So after the scans we headed back home (via the chip shop), and now I have to wait. I am hoping for an appointment soon so we know what happens next and can plan.

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So long and thanks for all the...
The people who went before

Useful links:

Bowel Cancer UK
Colchester and Ipswich Hospitals Charity

Fear

This is me.

Well, actually, I should have titled this post 'unafraid'. But I've used 'fear' because Richard Wilkins, the amazing man who runs the Ministry of Inspiration with Liz, has sent out a video on facebook called F*ck Fear. And it's been shared over 12,000 times, because there is a strong and real message in there.

Fear is tool ruthlessly used by our inner voice, our insecurity, that inner 'script' that tries to make us jump, quiver and generally not be who we truly are. That voice in your head is a liar. It is made of things you've done true, but it is also written by what has been done to you, what your loved ones, friends, colleagues and even random strangers say to you - it's written by others. It is not the true you.

With cancer now a part of my life, not just my partner's, I am looking forward positively. I am unafraid. Even before I understood that this disease is not likely to kill me (though I still don't know that for sure), I'm still unafraid.

I've never been afraid of death, and cancer has no power to scare me either. It does not have the power to 'redefine me' as a cancer victim or sufferer. It does not have the power to change my positive outlook and my love for life and living. Cancer is not my identity, it's just another page in my script.

With the covid-19 coverage causing fear and anxiety at unprecedented levels, it is a good time to remember and consider all the good things in live. Forget fear, be unafraid (but don't be stupid). Love who you are, and believe in yourself.

Useful links:

Ministry of Information

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Kindness is a strength
Attitude and examination

The results are in

Well, we already knew, but the histopathology results have confirmed the cancer in my bowel. Nasty little thing, I shall call it ‘Gertrude’.

Gertrude was found about 15cm into my insides (from the arse end), which is a good thing position wise. It is far in enough for surgery (which is a given) to be able to snip and stitch – so Gertrude and surrounding tissue will be excised, and the two ends of my innards reattached – a slightly shorter run than before.

I had my colonoscopy last week (this is when I met Gertrude – on screen) and the procedure itself

Preparing for colonoscopy

was not much of a drama. The night before (those of you who have had this will know) was worse! So, having established that there was a cancer in my bowel, the colonoscopy nurse took some samples, whose results were what we went to discuss at the hospital today.

I don’t know the stage or the grade of Gertrude yet. We don’t know if it’s aggressive, or easily intimidated, and we don’t know if it has spread at all. These options will be determined by:

• CT scan to see if the cancer has spread anywhere
• MRI scan to get a more detailed idea of where Gertrude is and which parts of my innards it has attached to (wall, nodes etc)
• Surgery to remove Gertrude and stitch my pipes back together
• Dissection – once Gertrude is surgically removed, it will go back for further pathology investigation.

The important thing now for me is the timeline, which is something on the lines of the scans (not on the same day) within the next two weeks or so, then the earliest surgical appointment that can be had. Possibly up to another month after the scans, if I’m lucky, earlier.

The reports on the deported Gertrude will determine whether I need any other treatment. Radiotherapy is unlikely due to the location, but chemotherapy is a possibility. It totally depends on what they find with the scans and post-surgery.

With any luck I could be having my operation sometime in April or May, and then it will be recovery time. Even if I have the surgery laparoscopically (keyhole) it’s a pretty big rework of the old insides, so I will need quite a bit of recuperation time.

I’m being positive and upbeat because that’s the best way to knock Gertrude into submission. Cancer is an ugly, unwanted intruder, but needs to be treated with care so it doesn’t cause more problems. Gertrude is an inconvenience that will make my life pretty difficult for several months, but I am aiming for the minimal impact scenario where I will be up and about and my usual self in time to enjoy the summer months.

Meanwhile there is nothing I can or need to do other than keep healthy and carry on. I will post further updates as and when things happen/change.

Finally, Gertrude doesn’t have a chance, because there is so much love and support around me. Thank you.

Woodland walk

After a rather unhappy start to the week, I went for a walk in the woods last Wednesday morning. The birds were starting their special spring songs and loudly proclaiming their eligibility, and the rising aroma of drying winter leaves, warmed by a light sun, permeated the air.

The dogs were trotting happily, sniffing and shuffling about, noses to the ground around some particularly interesting smell, and ears pricked up and listening to the startled flap of pheasant or pigeon wing, or the tell-tale crack of a bracken stalk under the tread of a timid Muntjack.

The walk was restorative. The air, the sound of the wind in the trees, the sunshine trickling through the pines. It was a beautiful morning and a beautiful walk, with nature around me and the sights and sounds of the natural world flowing into me like a healing elixir.

I'll need more than a walk in the forest, I know, as I embark on a new journey, but living in the woods, walking here and enjoying everything that nature has to offer is going to be very important to me as I enter the next phase of this condition.

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Suffolk lullaby
Two walks

Photos (C) Carolyn Sheppard


And just for fun because I don't want to put a whole new post in just to fit this vid in - here's me playing the weirdest bass ever at the final Shave the Monkey concert back in January.

Nature's gift

There was a crack like thunder, and then a huge thump that shook the ground, the house, the very trees in the forest. The  house screamed as ash-fingers scratched at it's bricks and tore off the gutter and demolished the front light. Well, that's how I imagined it would have felt had we been in the house when the tree came down!

When you live in a house that is mostly heated by one wood burner, then your primary fuel is... well, wood. And dry wood is expensive if you buy it, and to dry it yourself takes time. The ash opposite our house had Chalara, and was looking dead, but the Forestry Commission (who had marked it for removal) thought it was fine. Chalara (ash dieback) starts from the crown, so the roots are usually OK. Apart from us telling them the tree was dead and dangerous, they didn't see any reason to take it down in a hurry.

The track was blocked for over a week until the FC came

There are advantages of living in a forest, but you can't go cutting down trees that belong to the Forestry Commission. And if they fall on you, well, that's an 'Act of God' in insurance terms.

A few weeks ago (mid-Feb) we went away for the weekend back to my little terraced house in Hertfordshire, with it's central heating, and it's snug warmth. And when we came back late Sunday night, we had been delivered a gift. A 45 foot gift.

Fence destroyed, but house fine.

A bit of a destructive gift, for sure, but let's just say we won't be short of wood for a while. And the nice thing about ash is that it burns well, and as the tree was dead, it doesn't need drying out.

Yes the fence was damaged and so was the lawn, but it only brushed the house (like fingers tickling the brickwork), it only took out a little bit of gutter and a light. The poor tree, which was home to nightingales and jays, woodpeckers and squirrels, is gone. The forestry commission )(after more than a week, even though it blocked the lane) came and took it down and sliced it into manageablel chunks (if you are a 14 foot muscular giant, that is).

We have had to cut up the logs they've left. But here are still some huge bits that are going to take several goes with the chainsaw to reduce even into moveable pieces. And the lawn has huge gouts of turf lifted up (one of the branches literally ploughed the ground) and a huge dent where the main trunk hit. The fence had to be replaced, and we will eventualy get round to repairing the lawn - just as soon as I've moved 3 tonnes of timber.

It missed us, it barely damaged the house, and we have a lot of nice burnable wood. I think that's a gift from nature (even if I do end up with bulging biceps from all the chainsawing, heaving and splitting).

Photos (C) Carolyn Causton and Sheena Stebbing

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The gift of snow

Just connect

We went to see Sandi Toksvig's live show last night - her one woman show was entertaining and she involved the audience several times with questions, and stories.

A show like this can often be the host just talking at you, waiting for laughter, and carrying on, but Sandi genuinely wanted interaction. That's hard to achieve when you are one, and there's 600 or so people sat watching you, but she didn't do half bad.

The main message - apart from her amusing anecdotes and wonderful stories of things interesting (like 95% of all the world's people ever are dead) - was about connection.

In the interval she encouraged us not to turn on our phones and to talk to someone we didn't know. And though her message was delivered with her usual erudite humour, it was an important message I think many related to. Certainly there was lots of random chatting in the queue for the ladies!

There was a big notice in the ladies: "Red dot is engaged". I suggest we congratulate her next time we see her - and instead of sideways glances and getting ahead in the queue quicker, my quip received smiles. In other words, Sandi's message of getting us to just connect was working.

Of all the things that made me smile, laugh out loud, clap and enjoy  myself, it's the reminder that we need to connect with others that I think is the most valuable of all. I hope the others felt the same.

Image (C) whoever did her promotion. http://www.sanditoksvig.com/

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Stories for ladybirds
A midwinter night's drive

I've said it now

Sunday 26 January 2020

If I can write every day – even just a few paragraphs, then I’ll be making progress. I haven’t written properly for a long time, and there are lots of reasons of course, but all of them are just excuses. I love to write, and by not writing I have let a little piece of me deteriorate. Same with song-writing – not just the lyrics, but the music too.

I got stuck in a rut for a while, I have to admit. But my life has changed so much in the last two years – I’m out of that rut, and now I’m looking around at the new horizons. I have not changed my life so much that everything is different, but I can most certainly spend time now doing more writing, and – if I can motivate myself to do so – playing more music.

Last year was untypical to say the least with my partner’s cancer treatment pretty much occupying the whole year in various ways. I did write a bit about our experiences, but it was a different kind of writing – writing to share something intimate and challenging, and to share to help others as well as ourselves.

A blog without a photo is boring.
This is my favourite pine tree.

Cancer treatment has finished, and hopefully Sheena will continue to get stronger and better now that the cancer has gone. But the side effects of the treatments (which only stopped this month) need some recovery time too.

Back to the start of this – that I want to write every day. Writing is like any muscle, you need to use it to keep it strong and flexible. So, I’m limbering up – getting ready to launch back into exercising my writing brain beyond the daily use demanded by work, or the occasional blog.

My plan is to write a novel. Oh yes, everyone has a novel in them we know, but do I have a story, and a loose plot, I just need to work on characterisations, structure and then simply sit down and write. It doesn’t matter if what I write isn’t good enough – it matters only that I write. The more I do so, the more I will improve. I will also ask for critique from those whose opinions I value, sure of their honesty.

If you have a goal you want to achieve, what do you do to pursue it? In a recent training course (which has prompted me to do this), one of the recommendations was ‘affirmations’ – saying out loud to yourself what it is you want to achieve. One colleague put it really simply, “I’ve said it, so I’ll do it”.  I like that.

Hence this rather boring, but important to me, blog. I have said it. I will do it.

Other blog posts related to writing:

Thesisa

Troublesome angels

Time management

Postscript - having looked for a photo to illustrate this post, I think I just might write something about that tree next.

(C) Carolyn Sheppard

So long, and thanks for all the...

STM at Cambridge Junction, 2020

Cropredy, 1994

Well, not fish, for sure! Saturday 18th January 2020 did, however, bring an end to something that was a big part of my life. From 1988 to around 2010, I was part of a band called Shave the Monkey that played folk clubs around the UK and folk festivals in the UK and mainland Europe. We had some amazing times, including playing at Fairport Convention's Cropredy festival (to something like 17,000 people), Cambridge Folk Festival, Dranouter in Belgium and Skagen Festival in Denmark.  We appeared on BBC and ITV and on lots of radio stations.

I don't think I can explain the feeling of being on stage, with five other musicians all working together to enterain, and so many people listening, enjoying and participating in your music. There's nothing quite like it.

I'm a songwriter mostly, but the band was probably 2/3 instrumental, 1/3 songs. It wasn't just me that sang, Steve also wrote (writes) songs and we did a few of his songs and tunes in our sets and on our CDs. I still sing, I still play, but arthritis in the hands is a bugger for a guitarist!

Here's me singing our 'hit' The Witchfinder General for the very last time:

The band broke up (so did the marriage of two of the members), and we played a couple of  reunion gigs (I think in 2012 - but happy to be corrected). That was weird, because I was in a very difficult place. The husband's girlfriend was in the audience, there were musical tensions, lots of emotions, and it wasn't easy with the new relationship dimensions. I don't think I did my best, but I certainly tried - the audience (and their reaction) are always the most important thing when performing; you have to give it your best. Which reminds me...

A very long time ago

I remember one time we played the Rupert Bear Appreciation Society Annual Conference. Yes, such a thing exists (and lots of them did wear check trousers/scarves and red jumpers), and we were their evening entertainment. This was about 2000, and I know because I was in the depth of depression at the time. I remember laying on the car roof before the gig, looking at the sky and wondering why I was alive.

But I also remember going on stage and playing - and seeing the Ruperts dance, hearing them clap, and even sing along with a number or two. And that was always a good way to banish the black dog.

There was another time we played the Pagan Federation's annual conference in London.  I wasn't black dogged then, thankfully, but it was a strange gig. I remember a few things - such as my bum being too hot as a massive stage light was directly behind me, a small child leaping on my lap and giving me a 'pagan kiss' because he liked our music so much, and a large man in a pink fairy costume. I have to say they were a great audience, and I went back and played again with a musical duo n later iyears.

I could reminisce for ages - good times and bad - gigs with five people, gigs with five thousand, but the important thing is closure. I had said I wasn't intrerested in any more reunions, but with the 'last ever' on the cards, I was happy to contribute a couple of songs and a tune. The audience at the Cambridge Junction was filled with faces we knew from times past, as well as current friends and family. We couldn't have played to a friendlier, warmer, more receptive audience. Perfect for a last gig.

From our very first gig to our very last, it's the audiences that have always made it worthwhile. So though I (and others of course) will continue to play music, Shave the Monkey has finally hung up the razor and is going to let the fur grow.  So long, and thanks to all our amazing audiences for listening, buying CDs, talking to us, telling us what you liked, and for being there at every single gig we ever played.

Mic drop...

Liked this? Try...

Promo video from 1998 (above)
Broken Rock (song)
Music, music (blog)
Mermaid's Tears (song)
Two performances (blog)

(C) Carolyn Sheppard, and Shave the Monkey. Photos from various sources.

Don't load their gun

Last week, several of us from work attended a training event that was a bit different from the norm. The two-day course, called ‘Winning Edge’, was about how to change the way you think to develop (amongst other things) ‘success-oriented attitudes’.  It was donated to the Charity by a local trainer who needed to deliver her first session solo so she could be signed off to teach it independently.  

I’m not going to attempt to distil two days’ training in a single update, but here’s a little excerpt from one of the workbooks to give you a taster –

“Remember that the opposite of success isn’t failure – it’s not trying at all. If we view the ‘failure’ as a stepping stone and not a stumbling block, we ‘reframe’ the word in our consciousness, increase our confidence and reduce our fear of failure, which is a key reason that many people never even attempt to achieve their dreams.”

OK, I’m on board with that. But there were many discussions around several subjects and concepts that – I’m delighted to say – the team were ready to discuss, challenge and develop. It was a stimulating two days, and we still have a further day to go (in February).

But the title of this post is about weaponry, and it’s a concept that I think worth sharing. If someone insults you, or says something that upsets you, or offends you, then they are using a ‘verbal gun’. Now that gun is only loaded if you are insulted, are upset, or offended. In other words, the other person has absolutely no power to ‘shoot’ you unless you choose to ‘load their gun’ by feeling a negative emotion.

And you can choose how you react.

Let me give an example:

“Carolyn, you look tired today”. Is the person saying this to me

• a)       Concerned for my health
• b)      Making a snide comment as I have dark rings under my eyes
• c)       Just making conversation
• d)      Making an observation?

It doesn’t matter, because how I react, how I choose to interpret and respond to what is being said to me, is what counts. They made a comment. I can choose to listen, or not listen, and above all I can choose how I feel about what they said. I can choose not to be insulted, upset or offended. 

This subject alone engendered quite a bit of discussion, but it did have a useful learning point – perhaps it could even be interpreted as ‘don’t let the beggars grind you down’. But it’s more than that, it’s not about defiance or challenge, it's about choice. Choose not to let someone insult, offend, upset you, and you totally take away their power. Don’t load their gun with the bullet of your response.  This will take time and practice if you choose to subscribe to this way of thinking and if you are upset by something that’s ok, it doesn’t mean your feelings are less valid because you chose to react to them in that way.

For more information; and in the meantime, here’s the website https://www.winningedgemindset.com/

Kiss away time

This is a song I wrote in 2000 - it's about the departing spirit of a loved one:

There's a bell ringing

There's a door banging

There's an open wound on the flesh of a child

There's flies buzzing

In the quiet garden

While mother says the injury is mild

I wish I were young again

How I wish I could take away his pain

And kiss away the tears

and laugh away the years

And play like a child at a game

There's music coming

From an open window

The cat upon the fence

Is half asleep

The child resting

The sun warming

Summer afternoons can be so deep

I wish I were young again

Could chase through the meadow and the corn

The sun warms the garden grass

As I drift back towards when I was born

There's a church bell ringing

And a hymn singing

I lift above the sound upon a prayer

I watch slowly

The sad faces

As summer's last breath takes away my cares

Now I am young again

I live within the memories they keep

Now I am young again

I slip away as quietly as sleep

There's a bell ringing

A door banging

The child now has a child all of his own

I watch smiling

As he bends to touch him

And kiss away the tears now that he's grown

Kiss away the tears

(C) Carolyn Sheppard.