The 19th & 20th; It is not subtle.

The 19th of July. 

It is too hot for anything other than basic respiration. I have been outside a couple of times just to see what it was like. Thirty seconds was enough. I can barely breathe. 

I was up early because I was at Black Sheep at half nine. I started having a worry that I’d got my appointment wrong because I hadn’t had a text message, but there was no point in ringing because I was the first appointment, so we just went and if I was wrong then I’d just come back to the car. However, I was right, and I just hadn’t had a text because their computer system is throwing a wobbly. 

James and I had a chat and we went much more vibrant because I want it to last longer, but we don’t know quite what will happen because my base is so light. We shall see! Mainly purple with pink fringe and pink back. It is not subtle. 

Went to the gym on the way home so I could take in my letter from Andy Toogood so my membership can be paused for free. Vlad tried to be funny about my hair change and asked if I’d had my glasses painted to match. I flatly shut those down. Do not make jokes about my appearance. I will not laugh. 

This afternoon I have stayed inside, drinking water from the fridge and updating my blog. Tomorrow I can have a day off!

The 20th of July. 

I really don’t want to complain about the weather, especially when I am so often freezing, but it is literally difficult to breathe and it appears that nowhere in our house is cool. 

I managed to get to sleep last night without too much trouble, surprisingly. I swear, the last time I was this hot was in Majorca, when I had leukaemia and didn’t know. Not great memories. At least when we were there, we had a pool I could cool off in. 

This morning I got to have a break from writing. I, like the kittens, have flooped. We have all wilted. I have been pouring extra water on their food to make sure they’re not getting dehydrated. 

I got a lovely card in the post today from Anthony Nolan to thank me for last week. Bless them. Tomorrow they deliver the letter about 2nd transplants to the Department of Health, and I so wish I was going too! Then again, if I were to speak to anyone, I would have to work really hard to not get too angry. Probably best I am not there. 

The 17th & 18th; This must be how actual writers feel.

The 17th of July.

I do love summer, but it’s too hot in the sun. I enjoy being able to wear my dresses though. There are not many days a year that I can, so the next few might require outfit changes so things get worn. 

Got up earlier then usual for a Sunday because Victoria and Isobel were coming to look at kittens at half ten. They were very prompt and I ushered them in, so the kittens legged it to the other end of the room. We stayed where we were, and slowly Nova, Nettie and Noelle all came to say hello. Isobel was very indecisive (as 3 year olds are), stuck between Nettie and Noelle. I think the decision was made for her when Noelle really took to them both, having a great time playing with their fingers. 

They left after about an hour, and they’ll come back to take her home when they are back from holiday in a couple of weeks. Her name will be changed to Sophie so we’ll have to start calling her that. 

After Grandma had been taken home from church and we’d had lunch, Mommy and I went to the Cats Protection Garden Party and took some cakes for them to sell. We saw Jen and Lee, bought some cake, jam and raffle tickets, but couldn’t stay long because it was roasting and I needed to get back to feed the kittens. 

For the rest of the afternoon, I’ve been photographing the kittens for the website, filling in my Anthony Nolan expenses forms and composing an email to Mark Tami about mental health post-transplant. I will update my blog, I swear. 

The 18th of July.

More writing. I think this must be how actual writers feel, doing essentially nothing but. I didn’t get any done this morning because there wasn’t really time before I had to go out. I had my breakfast and coffee, fed the kittens (who are much friendlier now we’ve taken the cage down), then it was time to go to the gym. 

I was meeting with Vlad because now I’ve had this news about my spine, I don’t think it is wise for me to be putting any extra strain on it until I have seen the surgeon, know what’s going on and what we’re going to do about it. Mr. Harland might say it’s fine to exercise, or tell me what I can and cannot do, which would be great and I’d go back immediately, but it hurt every time I worked out and so for now, I will not be gymming. He asked how my diet had been, which I think is funny because I will not be changing that for anyone. It’s taken my entire life for me to cultivate a relatively normal relationship with food, and any obsessive monitoring of what or how much I eat will only end badly. Sorry but not sorry. 

After lunch: writing/blogging. I’ve written up two out of three, with the second one scheduled to be published tomorrow morning, and I’m going to try to do the third one this evening, because tomorrow I’ll have another one to do!

The weather is too warm. I cannot go outside because it just feels too close. The air feels heavy. Sleeping tonight will be a challenge. Daddy’s just got in from work and I remember just how gross the train home can be in this kind of heat so I do not envy him at all. 

The 15th & 16th; I didn’t go through all this for nothing.

The 15th of July. 

I woke up at half past three to the news from Nice. Went to sleep angry about one thing, come morning I’m aghast at another. The present is really, really fucked up. What has happened to us?

I don’t know if this sounds terrible, but apart from that, I have had a really great day. Waking up way before my alarm was a blessing because it meant I had plenty of time for my eyes to adjust to light and so by the time I wanted to put mascara on, I could do so without pain. 

At New Street, I got my second coffee of the morning and went to wait in the assistance office. My assigned chap turned up to take me to my train a little bit closer to the wire than I would like, but then the train hadn’t actually arrived at the platform yet so I was worrying for nothing. During the journey, I made friends with the guy sitting opposite me after I noticed he was looking for Pokémon, but the train was going too fast to catch any. He asked if I was a writer as I had been scribbling away about transplants/Jeremy Hunt, I explained what I was doing, and he said he was an air quality consultant which I am a fan of; I do not enjoy terrible air. Now we’re following each other on Twitter. Well done Pokémon. If I hadn’t been talking to him, I would’ve noticed a tweet from a follower who was on my train in my carriage! I do wish they’d come and said hi, I would not have minded. 

At Euston, the assistance guy was there! I didn’t even have to wait or anything, despite some kindly strangers asking if I needed them to get help. Amazing! I bought another coffee on the concourse, then went to get a cab to London Metropolitan University. 

The driver was not 100% sure which building it was, but he knew where, and with Google’s help, we got there. Plus on the way, we had a very interesting discussion about regional British accents (starting from him noticing that I very much do not have a Brummie one). He dropped me off where we thought was right (I could see a big Reception sign), and the man inside helpfully explained that the Great Hall was just a few buildings down the road. I found it and was met by Anneliese in the foyer, who took me where we needed to go. 

In the hall, I was greeted by some familiar faces from Tuesday, Simon and Cassie checking that I did eventually get a taxi from Westminster, and we positioned ourselves at the front so I could get up on stage without getting breathless. I briefly met Henny, the Chief Exec, who thanked me for coming, then it began! She started by talking about the progress made this year, and the plans for the next. She was followed by an excellent video about the strategy for the next few years, and then Hannah of Finance and Resources came up to elaborate on the video we’d just watched. There was a Q & A with the senior management team, which is comprised of many people! Presented in a rather light-hearted and vastly amusing fashion by a chap who introduced us to all of the panel, then asked them some questions which had already been submitted, ranging from “How will we be affected by Brexit?” to “What would your Desert Island Disc be?” with answers that were obviously serious and some not-so. 

Then it was my turn! I started off by talking a bit about my role as a Young Ambassador, then talked about my transplants. I got a little bit rambly, but it was all going well; everybody seemed to be engaged, laughing when I tried to be humourous, and then suddenly I had five minutes left. I had to move on to my hopes for the future, for the best donors and the best post-transplant care possible everywhere, not just in major cities, or we are not going to achieve our goals. To finish, I had to talk about Jeremy Hunt and the second transplant debacle. I thought I was doing okay, I was getting through my points, little bit angry but I could see that they were agreeing, they were with me, when I asked what gives Jeremy Hunt the right to decide who gets to live, and I was suddenly on the verge of tears. Henny jumped up to make sure I was okay, and I found myself on the receiving end of rapturous applause, with some people even standing up. That was pretty cool. I had to end it then, by saying that we must change this, then I climbed down and wafted my face until the tears went back in. I didn’t get to tell them how much it means to me, to be able to work with them. Campaigning on one’s own can get a bit lonely and feel quite ineffectual, but having their backing makes me feel like I can actually change things. Like I didn’t go through all this for nothing.

Every department had made a video of presentation about what they’d done this year, and they were all really good! Really creative; one used the office dog in a silent movie style, and another was based on Pokémon like the viewer/player was battling a blood cancer. So clever!

After the last one, that was the end, and I had a rather large queue of people wanting to thank me for speaking, or to tell me that I was inspiring, or that I had them and those around them in floods of tears. I mean, that was not my intention, but I am glad what I said made an impact. Everyone was then heading off to Hampstead Heath for the annual staff summer picnic, some on the train, some in a minibus, quite a few walked, and Anneliese, Ian and I got a Hailo. We got there in good time, before the rush, so we queued up with Jess who I met on Tuesday, and we immediately bonded over hatred of prednisolone. The picnic/buffet was great – loads of sandwiches, sausage rolls, salad-y stuff, fruit, crisps, sweet things, much variety! Plus various types of booze and soft drink but I thought I should stick with my water. 

We just ate on the grass and talked, people milling around, we were even visited by a baby (with her mother who everybody obviously knew). I was having such fun, and I wish I could have stayed longer, but at half past two I needed to get on my way back to Euston. I would’ve got a later train but the prices get stupid and yes I get reimbursed but I’m not going to take the piss. Anneliese and Jess walked with me back to my chair and made sure I got in the cab okay, but not before another person thanked me, and said I was an example, which was really sweet. I have done so much smiling. 

The taxi driver back to Euston brought me back down to Earth by immediately starting a conversation about Nice. There was a worrying moment when I thought he might live up to the “offensive cabbie” stereotype, but he was actually very sensible, thankfully. 

Back at the station, I bought a smoothie and a Milky Bar, then went straight to my train. The journey back was less fun, no new PokéPals. Both parents were at the station to meet me, and home we went. Happy. Exhausted. 

The 16th of July. 

I really need to write what will be three blog posts by the time I’ve finished this. I’ve just had no time. Tomorrow afternoon I can. I have things to do in the morning. A lady and her daughter are coming to look at the kittens (they haven’t decided which one) at half ten and I don’t know how long they’ll be here. 

This morning I finished writing about yesterday, then read the paper. I needed a break from writing; that feels like all I have been doing lately. I also went to see what the kittens were getting up to – last night we sort of forgot to shut one of the cage doors properly, so they had been out all night. Surprisingly, everything was fine, so for an experiment, we have left them out today. It has meant that when I’ve been in, they’re tired from playing so let me stroke them and Nova, the tortoiseshell who was very hissy, even came up to my face and sniffed my nose. Progress!

After lunch, Daddy and I went to see Ghostbusters. It is fabulous. I haven’t even seen the original so I made no comparisons, but knew enough to appreciate the cameos. Kate McKinnon absolutely stole the show for me, I loved her. I did also enjoy Chris Hemsworth’s dance moves. 

Now I have just iced some cupcakes to take to a garden party tomorrow because I apparently live in a novel, and I’m going to feed the kittens again before we have our dinner. 

The 13th & 14th; “Sorry. You just have to go home and die.”

The 13th of July. 

Today has mainly revolved around writing about yesterday and putting in eye drops/using the cooling eye mask. My eye is marginally better but definitely no make up today. I think it will be okay by Friday.

There was so much to write about yesterday that it has honestly been my only activity of the day. I stopped to eat lunch, and for us to go out to liver clinic. My appointment was half past two, and I didn’t get to see James until just before four. He’s too popular! But in the meantime, we talked with Kirsty, Monica and Philippa. Monica got slightly teased about being on tv but it was all out of love. 

When we finally heard my name called, the first thing James brought up was the most recent letter from Andy Toogood. It’s so recent, it was only written on Monday and we haven’t actually had it yet. It seems that my x-ray has at long last been reported on, and it is not good news! It shows a “marked degenerative change” in my lower spine. He has discussed it with his colleague, Mr. Harland, a spinal neurosurgeon, who wants an MRI and to see me in his clinic, so I’ll get some other letters too. And maybe I’ll have spinal surgery. 

From a liver point of view, all my tests are really great and boring, so he couldn’t be happier! Back in six months, when he will have another new baby to show me pictures of!

At home, I have been scribbling away. Finished just before dinner, and now I have to complete my talk for Friday so I can email some notes to Ian tomorrow!

The 14th of July. 

My eye is improving. I can tolerate light now, for the most part, hoping I will be capable of wearing mascara tomorrow. 

I spent my morning writing up my notes to send to Ian and Anneliese from Anthony Nolan so they know what I’m planning on saying, and I had to find the original versions of some photos of me having my transplants, because the ones I had were not of reasonable quality. 

Speaking of transplants, I learned today that NHS England is no longer going to be routinely funding second stem cell transplants for those that need them. They are, apparently, unaffordable. What is affordable is a prosthetic penis if you have erectile dysfunction. If your cancer comes back and you need a second stem cell transplant? No, sorry, your life is not worth saving. If that had been the case in 2008, I would have been told the same thing as my grandmother sixty years ago – “Sorry. You just have to go home and die.” How can that be the case? That advances in science makes these treatments cheaper and our knowledge means we can perform them better, but now we can’t afford to save the lives of the very people that donor drives and research is being done for? I accept that I am now unfixable, but that is because my body is simply not up to it. If I were being told that there was a good chance I’d be alright if I had a particular treatment, but I wasn’t worth the money it would cost, I would feel very differently. We spend millions and millions of pounds treating self-inflicted diseases, smoking and drinking, but we can’t pay for people who have had no part in their life-threatening illness to have a second chance. I don’t understand. I don’t want to. 

What I want is to change it. I don’t accept it. With Anthony Nolan’s support, I will not be letting this go. If we spent the amount of our GDP on the NHS that Germany does, we could vastly increase its budget. Even Portugal, whose economy is not looking fabulous, spend more than we do. The government continue to bang on about how well the economy is doing, but they keep cutting away at health and social care, two sectors that desperately need each other, and the system is just going to break under the strain, and soon. We might have a new Prime Minister, but Jeremy Hunt is still in charge of the service with which we entrust our lives. I cannot just worry about this. I need to do something. 

The 11th & 12th; I have had an utterly smashing day.

The 11th of July. 

So Theresa May will definitely be Prime Minister. The House of Commons tomorrow is going to be just fascinating. The weather is going to be appalling it seems, which puts the kibosh on what I had planned to wear. Still don’t know and I really need to decide before I go to bed because in the morning I will not have time to be getting dressed a thousand times. 

This morning I did a blog post, getting back into the habit (hahaha), then after lunch, Mommy and I went into Sutton. I needed to buy some boxes to post things in which was tricky because I’d measured the items in inches, then had to convert those into millimetres and remember which was depth and which was width. Basically it was an arse but I got them in the end, hooray. We went to the station to pick up my tickets for tomorrow, but the machine there was broken, so we tried Wylde Green on the way home, where the man in the booth was very obliging. 

Shortly after arriving home, Ian from Anthony Nolan rang to speak to me about my talk on Friday. That sent me into a panic because in my head it was on Thursday, so then I had to check that I’d booked my tickets and assistance for the right day! Thankfully I had, so then we could move on to topic. I ran them through what I’m going to say, and they had some thoughts of things I need to add in. Will do my tweaks, then email them the bullet points!

The 12th of July. 

I have had an utterly smashing day. Had I not been bothered by what felt like a scratch on my eye all day which was incredibly painful and irritating, it would have been pretty much perfect. Well, also better weather would have helped. Less rain would have been ideal. 

It began with Michaela being an absolute darling and coming into Black Sheep early to cut my hair before my trip. I messaged her in the week because I was desperately unhappy with how it was looking, so she shuffled things around and fitted me in because she is wonderful. I want to grow my hair, so I really needed it shaping into a style which can be grown out. The back has been shortened and the fringe cut back in to make the front bits look longer and even out the length. 

Went straight from there to New Street where I arrived surprisingly early, so I picked up a paper (the self-service checkout machine gave me all my change in 5ps, the prick) and went to wait in the assistance office. I got taken to my train and settled in for the journey. I tweeted Euston to let them know I was on my way, but then we arrived early and the train manager was by my door so he sorted the ramp for me. I saw the assistance chap as I was going up the platform, and he explained that he’d been helping a blind lady, which was all fine because of our earliness and the Virgin man being there anyway, so I was not upset with them this time. 

I got in a cab to take me to meet Lauren in Covent Garden and the rain was torrential. Ghastly. He dropped me off as close to Le Pain Quotidien as he could, and when I got inside, it was crazy busy. At first they did not seem keen to let me wait. However, I managed to charm them and five minutes later, I had a table!

I ordered a flat white and an orange juice while I waited for Lauren and considered the menu. She appeared, and we ordered some food. There was much to catch up on, like my x-ray saga and the horror of her masters course, and I complained throughout about my sore eye. I haven’t had pain this bad since I had the eye GvHD and had to live in the dark for a month because all light was intolerable.

We paid up and had about an hour before I needed to get a cab. We wandered around Covent Garden, and ended up in the Charlotte Tilbury store where the staff were very helpful in getting my wheelchair in and out. I bought some lip scrub and they gave me many free samples! Excellent. 

It was time to go, so I looked for a Hailo taxi but there were none, it seemed? And an accessible Uber was going to take twenty minutes to arrive, so I thought I’d just GoogleMaps it in the chair. This was going fine until the rain came down again and I got lost. Very stressful. I thought I’d give Hailo another go, and thank God, one was nearby. He got there quickly and I got in as fast as was humanly possible. He was quite a new cabbie, but he got me to Westminster in one piece. I then had to race 100m down the road in the pissing rain and join a queue of damp people, waiting to go through security.

My bags were x-rayed and I got patted down while in the chair, then I just carried on through! I sidled up to a man in uniform, and he took me the secret wheelchair way to Dining Room A. I met Cassie and Simon from Anthony Nolan and the photographer. We were all bemoaning the weather, then an MP arrived thinking he was late when he was in fact early, so I had a kind of dry run talking to him, he had a photo, then he had to run off to vote. Will and Amanda, two of the other Young Ambassadors, arrived and we had a chat with the MP for the Isle of Wight who was very nice and asked a lot of questions which was pleasing; I think he had a genuine interest.

The room started to fill up, and I suddenly realised that in front of me was Yaser Martini! I jumped up from my chair for a hug and possibly one of the worst selfies in the world. He introduced me to Seb Casalotti who is the brother of Lara who there was a massive campaign to find a donor for. We were all grieving over the state of the world when we were joined by Georgie Ireland who is one of the daughters from the Give Our Dad A Bone campaign. Their story didn’t have a happy ending, but they found solace in that they made a huge difference for people with his kind of cancer. We talked about hating hearing/watching ourselves, and stealing clothes from our sisters. She was going to get into trouble over the skirt she was wearing when she got home.

I noticed Ben (from Anthony Nolan) and Yaser were discussing how it is desirable to get a slightly imperfect match to get some GvHD. I was just about to share some photos of my skin (nothing too graphic) when speeches began. First to speak was Mark Tami, Labour MP and co-chair of the APPG. His part was only brief, more to introduce Seb, but he did mention that his son had a transplant which I didn’t know. Seb started with a thank you video from his family, then spoke very eloquently about his gratitude, but also his hopes for improving the education about stem cell transplants, especially within schools and colleges, so we get young people wanting to sign up to be donors as early as possible. Then Richard Davidson, one of the directors of Anthony Nolan had his turn, and he thanked everyone for coming, spoke a bit about the report, and introduced me and the other Young Ambassadors for people to come and speak to about our experiences. I was immediately sought out, and from then on was telling the story! I was able to speak to Mark Tami and we discussed opiates and how he is very keen to do more to support mental health post-transplant. I was really happy to hear him say this because mine has been fucked up beyond recognition but it isn’t really even mentioned before you go through it. I had a conversation with a girl from Anthony Nolan who works in communications, and I ended up discussing with her an app I have which shows me where I could get good coffee in London, as she sometimes finds it hard to come by. Now she can have lots!

The event wound down, and we were eventually chucked out by someone in uniform who had to tidy up. A man was found to escort me back out the stepless way, and he was very fancy, in tails an’ all. Once I had escaped, I Hailo’d a taxi, who accepted, but then called me to say that it was going to take him ages and basically, he didn’t want to come, so he cancelled the job. I went back to where I’d just come from, where there was a policeman. I explained what had happened and asked if he could help. I expected him to maybe call someone who could call a cab as I presumed they would have some kind of service? But actually, he went and stood on the street and waited for one to come along that he could hail. And bless him, he stood out there for about twenty minutes while I waited by his box and tried to see if I could spot anyone I recognised. I saw Stephen Kinnock, but that was all. Finally, I heard the policeman’s whistle and I sped out to get in the cab after thanking him profusely. 

The journey back to Euston took a while but I expected it to so there was no stress, I had aeons. As soon as I got there I went straight to Boots to purchase eye make up remover and cotton wool pads to relieve my agony when I got on the train. I picked up some magazines and Pom Bears, and I was barely in the assistance office before they were telling me what platform I needed to be at. The train was sponsored by the new Independence Day film, so was covered in huge pictures of Jeff Goldblum. Fun!

As soon as I was seated, I cleaned my eyes and frankly I am not sure how much it helped. I just ate my child crisps and was thrilled to be able to block out all the light on the way home. 

The 9th & 10th; Home is just better.

The 9th of July. 

Home. Holiday is lovely but home is just better. My bed, my shower (I and more importantly my hair is super clean), my armchair. I cannot wait to go to sleep tonight.

We had an early start and I’m glad I got up when I did, because while I was having breakfast, the builders next door started using what I can only assume was a power saw? A continuous, high-pitched whining noise, just delightful. 

Packed up all our belongings, did a sweep of the house to check we hadn’t missed anything, and we were out of the door by ten to ten. The Dorset Seafood Festival started today, so after getting coffee, Mommy and I had a look at all the stalls but it was mainly street food to eat there and then which we had no intention of doing, and none of the interesting demonstrations were on until much later, so by eleven, we were on the road home!

We stopped for lunch and to visit the Gloucester services, but the traffic was all pretty good and we got home just after four. Unpacked all the things, then I thought I would shower right away; my hair was so full of product and my skin all covered in suncream which leaves a residue that I am not a fan of. 

Tonight I must update my blog. I have been somewhat neglectful while away. 

The 10th of July. 

Well, Britain has done some good sport today. Now we just need to win the mixed doubles and we’ll be three for three! And it would be preferable if Portugal lost at the football but I am not really invested in that. 

Sleeping in my bed was just delicious, oh how I love a mattress that I don’t sink into and having a plug socket in a sensible place. I got up to watch Katherine and Joe on Sunday Brunch, and I relished the ability to make my own coffee and have it taste good. Then my friend Dan who is home for the weekend came round for a brew, a catchup and many bear hugs. We have been friends for ten years and can fall back into our rhythm so easily, there are never any awkward silences. 

After he’d gone back home to help his dad build his website, I watched Hamilton win the Grand Prix with Daddy while I crocheted a little kitty in a teacup, although I had to stop at three for lunch. Grandma came as obviously we haven’t seen her all week so I was showing her my sunburn over the table. 

Tennis, more crocheting. Had to stop to watch the last few points. I did some involuntary screams at stressful moments. I finished the kitty while I caught up on Limitless, and now I really need to finish my Anthony Nolan speech before I talk to the chap about it tomorrow!

The 7th & 8th; Made by gods.

The 7th of July. 

Finally got to have my pancakes! Balcony mapley goodness. Mommy, Daddy and Christine came with me, but they just had smoothies and coffee because they are boring/had already had breakfast. When we came out, it was trying to rain so we darted into M&S so Christine could pick up some lunch to eat on the train as she went home today. We then returned home with a stop for coffee because I hadn’t had any yet, and that has been my only trip out today. 

I figured I should capitalise on the less-than-ideal weather and work out what I am going to say at my next Anthony Nolan talk. Not the parliament one; I don’t need to give any speeches there, just chat to people, but on Thursday I’m talking to 250 Anthony Nolan staff about my transplant “journey” and patient outcomes. What I’ve said before won’t quite work so I need to rejig it slightly. 

Mommy went back out to buy presents for people, but also came back with a milkshake for me made from chocolate and espresso gelato. It tasted like it was made by gods. So, so good. 

And that is all. Outside my bubble, everything is terrible. Black men are being murdered by police officers in the US, and our next Prime Minister will be Theresa May or Andrea Leadsom, both equally dreadful human beings who will do nothing to improve the lives of vulnerable people. 

The 8th of July. 

Last full day here. This time tomorrow I will be nearly back in my own house (or even already there, depending on how long we spend at the Dorset Seafood Festival before we leave).

Really bad sleep last night, because next door were having some sort of loud musical shindig which kept me awake. I am so glad we don’t live in a terraced house; the noise from neighbours is constant during the day. It would drive me insane. 

I spent the morning in the house, typing up a blog post which I have yet to add the photos to because the WiFi here will take forever to upload them all. Then I had to wait for my parents to return from a bimble so someone could apply suncream to my back before I could go out to get my lunch. Very warm (when not windy) today and I didn’t want to get caught out again. 

I went to Coffee#1 first, but they didn’t have any sandwiches that looked appealing. However, I’d already kind of settled in and didn’t really feel like I could just leave, so I had a flat white and read a chapter of my book. After what I deemed an acceptable amount of time, I left and thought I’d just go to McDonald’s, so I had McNuggets and fries because I am a child. 

When I finished, I went to have a last trundle down the seafront, but getting there was such a slog, I seemed to choose the most inaccessible route possible. When I finally got there, I got to see some donkeys and an enormous amount of puffy dogs, which were most fun, but I had grown tired of the wind, so returned to the house where I must now pack. 


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