before you bolt them by the head to the table Today I’ve got my final radiotherapy session for now.

  •  I could be back here again any day … it is never over but let’s just say it’s the last one for the moment.
  •  I’ve found the 3 hour round trip everyday in order to be stapled to the table by my head whilst wearing a hardened plastic airtex t-shirt exhausting and challenging.
  • The mask itself is something else altogether.  It’s so tightly fitting that during the daily zapping, it only takes about 10 minutes, you cannot speak, you cannot open your eyes but you can PANIC
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Happy wedding anniversary my beloved …

What really happened on Monday? Well Mystic Rose was right about almost everything!

Today I’ll be back swimming in the Med, the hip is buggered and under investigation, I didn’t have to wait to see the orthopedic surgeon, a Mr. Kunt, that rhymns with runt by the way and I was finally escorted out of radiotherapy and told not to come back for a month. Whippee … there was a big and very loud internal cheer and some virtual and wild dancing took place. Oncolgist seen, bloods done.  All in all a good result.  But today there is something much more important that I want to share with you. Today is my third wedding anniversary. In normal years one is paper, two cotton and three leather but I think we are working on at least dog years so today is my twenty-first and according to tradition is celebrated with a brass gift.

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This post could also be entitled Stamford Hill Wives, ‘The Soup Diaries’ or perhaps it should simply be Girlfriends – They Rock!

Before tequilla slammers: Rosie, Mo, Lucy, Charl (1998?)

The same girls have been with me from the begining of my story and they’re still here with me today.

Despite not living in the same country for the last 17 years our friendship has survived, ebbed and flowed but we are all here for eachother as ever.

These are the girls I have grown up with, bunked off with, slammed tequilla shots with, vomited with, on one occasion even shared a boyfriend with, although I’m pleased to say not at the same time and along the way I’ve gone from being arty farty Rosie at Central/St.Martins, to Right on Rose, the North London teacher, and then later whilst carving out my new life in Turkey they offered me nothing but support until I finally became the person I am today.

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Mystic Rose and her chrystal ball will reveal all …

So can you tell me what I have in store Mystic Rose, can you see what kind of day lies ahead on Monday?

Well, I can see that you have a nasty case of … wait, it’s coming to me! Yes of course, plague of almost everyone in the western world, a particularly bad dose of MONDAYITIS

Yes, tell me about it and do you know what? It began at about 9pm on Saturday so this one must be really bad. I know the cause of it of course but that doesn’t actually make any difference or seem to help in the slightest. Mine has been brought on by usual stresses of Monday and back to the office – oh scrap that, should read Monday at the hospital. I’ve been having a few ‘Oh shit’ thoughts about what may be in store.

  • What can you see ahead?
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When Rosie met Nikki

There are some really good things about having cancer, believe it or not! For example spending more time than I could have imagined with the people I love the most and sharing the mundane and the magnificent with them; winning at Monte Carlo and the helicopter back to Nice, singing our way down the Bosphorous to Carol King, meals, drinks, swims the list is endless and unfinished.  But one of the best things to have happened in the last few years is that I met Nikki.   Nikki and Rosie The Ham yard – London April 2017 From day one our conversations generally began with a list of possible chemo side effects; ‘Got any hair loss, funny taste, bad feet, still constipated, of course … oh that’s great!’ We both scoffed at the start of our current treatment, palbociclib (aka Ibrance) as they warned us that it could cause diarrhoea! We both laughted that off as a fiction and of course we were right, not a regular bowel movement in sight.

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Monday’s Stage 4 pin-up

Have you ever wondered what stage 4 or terminal breast cancer looks like?

 We often look just like you, we may not be bald, or even look ill.

Today’s life affirming model is Nikki. Here are a few moments from the last few years doing the things she loves with the people she loves, riding, swimming, dancing, feeding her sheep, being a mum, model and so much more.

Despite ongoing weekly treatment Nikki continues to live and love life to the full.

More from living it up @

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THE BIG EASY – CONSTIPATION relief for cancer patients

In order to ensure that you are never blocked, bunged up, excrementally challenged or fartipated you may want to read on.

The delicate subject of our habits whilst on the khazi, bog or the House of Lords are generally a deeply private and personal matter. That is until you become a cancer patient  and are thrown into the spiral of chronic constipation caused by chemotherapy and opoid painkillers.

To ensure that your body continues to run smoothly in all departments during this challenging time you may like to pick and choose from our carefully researched list of top tips;


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is the bane of all cancer sufferers live’s. Have you ever been unable to go for a day or two? That’s nothing! We’re talking three to four day cycles! But it’s a subject which the medical profession don’t seem to take seriously. And while I love my oncologist dearly it’s not a topic which seems to enter into our chats very often.

On occasion however I have perked right up at the prospect of a chemo which may actually give me a really good dose of diarrhea only to find of course that it too blocked, bunged and dried the passages just like all the others.

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Summer 2016

I’ve always had a fairly easy going relationship with my hair. I have never considered it to be my best asset. However no matter how you look at it hair is an essential part of me. I could try to convince you that it is overrated but we are all surprisingly attached to our locks. Hair defines us as women in so many ways and externally is the first thing which we notice about each other, without it we look strange, ill, odd and because of that it immediately changes how people treat us.

I have refused to be defined by whether I have hair or not. The simple truth is that I want to be loved, liked, admired or even respected because of who I am not what I am or what I look like. I’ve spent more time without it in the last three years than with it but I haven’t let that bother me.

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