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Given I had cancer three and a bit weeks ago (and have been in bed for most of the time since then) I am feeling surprisingly chipper right now. I've been eating a lot of vegetables (my breakfast stir fry is getting bigger and more elaborate each morning) and not much bread and have cut back on treats (but a little way to go) and am still off the booze. 77 days in (I think) but seriously considering binning booze for good this time, so maybe I'll stop counting. Or only count in years. And give myself little badges for every milestone. But I am not apologising to all the people I have wronged. It would take too long.
I am itching to get out for a run. I did a job yesterday that involved some movement and lifting and got through it OK. But maybe I need to work up to exercise with some walking first.
I ate some Thai coated peanuts as a snack tonight, whilst watching telly, and they made me feel awful. So I think my body agrees with the decision to go for more fruit and veg and less processed food. I don't know how my body will feel about me doing chemo if it can't cope with a handful of greasy nuts (did somebody say greasy nuts?), but it got through the Covid jab OK and orchidectomy, whilst not unbruised, at least quite cheerfully. And a brush with death, however light, is a great incentive to get fit. And stay fit this time.
It seems my cancer wasn't connected to diet or anything like that, but you know, there are other ways to die. And I'd like to avoid them for as long as possible.
Anyway I am feeling great and my skin is amazing and I know eating a stir fry for breakfast is weird, but I thoroughly recommend it. And I am still enjoying being forced to enjoy vegetables I wouldn't have bought that come in my weekly veg box, Today I made a pasta sauce with fennel and fresh tomatoes (plus a chilli) and though I warned my wife that it looked a bit horrible, it was actually pretty nice. Who would have thought I could cook with fennel? Not me.
I am, as ever, tempted to give up comedy and just stay in the kitchen making food for my family. But I have a sitcom to write. And I had a meeting with my editor over zoom and there might be a book or books in the pipeline too. And I have a broadcasting empire to keep going.
Over dinner (I also cooked this) my daughter said I was silly and when I took mock offence she said it was a compliment and that I was funny. She's rarely said anything like this to me, preferring to (jokily?) mock me at every opportunity. I said that not everyone found me funny and she said that they must do because I was on TV (so she's like most comedy afficiandos on Twitter then). I said that comedy was a strange thing and that different people liked different things and that I could tell her for certain that not everyone thinks I'm funny.
“They're probably jealous of you,†she countered, mirroring my own thoughts on the matter exactly, “Because you're cool.â€
I nearly spat my broccoli out of my mouth in surprise. This girl who professes to only love me 100 (when she has an infinite amount of love for her mum) and shows me nothing but disdain had just called me cool.
If there was ever a sign that my family had been swapped for actors then this was it. And I was pretty chuffed to be called cool by my daughter.
But thinking about it, my guess is that she was really talking about herself. She is always trying to be funny (I don't know where she gets this from, but it's a little bit tragic) and I think that maybe there might be someone at school who doesn't find her funny (what, just because her knock knock joke set ups bear no relation to the punchlines?) and her only way to process this is (the correct one) of thinking they are just jealous because she is so cool.
It has to be that right. But being even accidentally called cool by my daughter is one of the highlights of my life. I suspect I might get a similar compliment from her maybe twice more in my life (and that's if I make it to 100). But the pride that is burning in me for my coolness will (ironically) keep my soul warm for at least 25 years, so we're good.
