Craic On

There is nothing like sitting in bed in the early morning, with a pot of Earl Grey Supreme, chatting to girlfriends on the phone. I was happily doing just this when the doorbell rang. Short expletive at the prospects of being doorstepped by local politicos or evangelists. What a faff it was to haul myself into an upright position, stick the now compressed heart shaped cushion, made by the local WI and supplied by the NHS, under my arm, and totter off downstairs to the door. Halfway down the stairs the doorbell rang again. “Yes yes, I’m on my way.” On the doorstep was a member of the A Team, that much treasured WhatsApp group of girlfriends charged with seeing me through the Big C. “I thought you were coming for lunch,” I mumbled. “I did say 10.30. I’ve got to go to London later.” It was all bonus from my point of view. I went off to have a shower and the A Team headed for the kitchen where she made free with vases, in order to make the very best of the beautiful cut flowers from her garden. We spent the mo