On Sunday Chris and I cycle to the pub for lunch. I am cautious when I get on my bike. I feel like a novice once more. I wait at all the junctions even if the cars are quite a distance; I don’t want to make any sudden movements. Though we pedal no more than four miles in all it is quite an effort for me. We ride along the coast road to the sound of rigging slapping against the boat masts. In the wind the sound is reminiscent of dissonant church bells. It is good to feel the breeze in my hair and to breathe in the salt air. I am so grateful I can do this. I dread the onset of treatment, as I know that this will curtail such activity. I try to think positively about it. Some days I manage, but it is difficult to sustain full time.
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