Well that’s just super…

C is for…

So, turns out I have cancer. How fucking great is that.

As I keep telling people though, it’s the good type though, so not to worry. It’s a bit like the good type of Aids, you know., the sort you get from a blood transfusion and not from a prison gang bang. The sort that you die with, and not from, the sort that you don’t even get your life insurance to pay out on so you can go to Vegas, because your cancer isn’t cancerous enough. The sort that you get to tell fun stories about apparently, because apparently, cancer is a laughing matter.

You know the sort.

I found out a few months ago. I’d just had my annual medical, and that includes the usual rummage around in my arse to check my prostate, and having recently hit 50 they throw in a PSA blood test to check the same. I remember coming home and telling Mrs Afterwards about how the Doc had said that should there be any issues with the PSA test I may need further tests and procedures, and then – with the sort of pleasure that made me think some chap may have recently wronged her romantically, perhaps with her sister or best friend – she explained in great detail how awful these procedures were and how they could ultimately lead to sepsis of the arse and that would be a truly awful experience.

About a week later I was out walking the dog in the snow and she left me a voicemail explaining that I needed to call back. Well you can imagine the thoughts running through my head, most of which involved her slapping my exposed ass as I was bent over a table and telling me, “Yup, you have arse sepsis sir, and all men are pigs!”

Anyway, I don’t have arse sepsis and most men are pigs, but after an MRI scan, loads more curious rummaging in my bottom (by a specialist rummager this time though) and being put into a medieval torture device – of which I will likely write about another time – and having the aforementioned specialist take a shit ton of samples from my prostate, it turns out I have a mild case of cancer.

I’m mostly ok about it I think. Told the kids, and as my wife and I predicted, the youngest worried and the eldest started to laugh. Eldest has this weird nervous laughter thing when it comes to death and misery. At least I think its that. He might just be a monster. He did recently ask if it was contagious, though it turns out he meant hereditary. This was realised too late to avoid a conversation about me shooting cancer jizz. Mrs Afterwards was horrified and then forced to introduce a rule that forbids anyone in the household from using the phrase ‘cancer jizz’. Especially over dinner.

I will be having more bloods this week to see how things are looking as the prognosis is really good and there are no plans to treat it yet, with the side effects of the treatment being wholly worse than the disease right now. So that’s a good thing.

Then again, what’s worse than arse sepsis and cancer jizz, right. Actually they sound like really shit superheroes don’t they.

Anyway, so that’s what’s been happening here. Life eh.

Out in the van – Wharfdale

Up north!

Where: Wharfdale, North Yorkshire, England

When: 2oth April

Why: Wanted to see how the dog fared in the van overnight as last time out he was rather restless.

With: Me, Theo and my youngest, Thomas

Usually we head to Wharfdale to watch and play rugby, but this time out it was t see best ways to manage the dog at night as he can be a bit skittish and barks at noises in the dark. Not great on a campsite.

We bundled everything into the van and headed north for about an hour to the caravan and motorhome site. They are always rather clean and tidy, good facilities and in decent spots. This one was no different, and whilst theyre a bit cookie cutter we were set up in to time.

At this point we realised we hadn’t really brought much food beyond cereal, hot dog sausages, bananas and packet noodles. Oh and I had left all the pans at home. And the bowls (apart from one old serving dish). I did somehow have 3 bottles of gin, three bottles of prosecco, and a load of cider. But no ice, mixers or garnish for a Gin and tonic…Shoddy I realise.

We popped to the shop on site and grabbed some non booze drinks, milk and ice creams to supplement the pantry and made the best of the night, warming the sausages in the serving dish and had dinner. A short walk followed and we mostly just relaxed until bed time. Failing to settle the dog in his cage in the tent I ended up bringing him into the van and he was ok, barked a few times and was a bit restless – but not a complete nightmare. Tom slept like a baby in the pop top so despite being a bit groggy in the morning it was ok for ta first night.

Next day was mostly all about hiking the local area – which is bloody gorgeous and so wonderfully English (I also neglected to bring any proper walking shoes and only had crocs and a pair of £15 trainers from a supermarket). For days after I could barely walk and have had to spend hundreds on shoes since as, as Mrs Afterwards rightly pointed out, I am a bloody idiot. Anyway, the next night the dog slept marvellously and never woke once so all very much mission acco0mplished on that front. I now know what he needs (to be knackered and to have the radio on quietly for background noise) and more dog camping can now follow.

Oh and the second night food fare was even worse. We foolishly thought we could just order takeaway, but its pretty remote there and no one delivers. I had to speed march to a roadside services in setting dark, cross country with a dead phone, and was able to forage some corned beef pasties, crisps and some close to expiring profiteroles.

I reckon that should the world go to shit when the Russians start throwing nukes soon, and I am forced to forage to survive I wont last long at all…

If youre still reading , enjoy the pics…

On and we got to play the caravan game. You put the word ‘anal’ in front of the name of caravans for hours of infantile giggles…Behold the anal challenger, vip and crusader!

Out in the van – Howarth Waterfalls

Out on the winding, windy moors!

Where: Howarth, West Yorkshire, England

When: 2nd of Feb

Why: Its not far from here and seemed a nice day so off we went…

With: Me, Theo and Mrs afterwards

Welcome to Wuthering heights country! The Bronte waterfalls are a hop, skip and a jump from Howarth, the home of the literary legends that are the Bronte Sisters. They apparently spent many a summers day out here enjoying the goodness that is Yorkshire, and despite the rain it was a lovely morning out.

Pictures tell the story really…

Out in the van – Piece Hall, Halifax

Huge hares. really, really , huge Hares. And warthogs. And bulls…

Where:The Piece Hall, Halifax, West Yorkshire, England

When: 11th February 2022

Why: Popped out to see the statues and have a coffee

With: Me and Mrs Afterwards

Halifax is known for many things. The Bank, obviously, and did you know that Percy Shaw – the inventor of the cats eye – was from Halifax. We are the home of Anne Lister, Sally Wainwright, Ed Sheeran (well Hebden Bridge apparently) and much more. One of the most fabulous things though is the Piece Hall.

The Piece Hall website describes it as :

Yorkshire’s most important secular building

“The Grade I listed Piece Hall, Halifax is a rare and precious thing, an architectural and cultural phenomenon which is absolutely unique. It is the only remaining Georgian cloth hall in the world, the sole survivor of the great eighteenth century northern cloth halls, a class of buildings which embodied the vital and dominant importance of the trade in hand woven textiles to the pre-industrial economy of the West Riding of Yorkshire, from the Middle Ages through to the early nineteenth century.”

Anyway, this week we popped down because there was a Sculpture display by Sophie Ryder which we thought we would take a gander at. It was raining, which it seems to do every day right now, but the grey skies seemed to set things off even more fabulously.

Take a look at the photos…I’m no expert in these things – I simply like what I like – and I liked her stuff a lot! If you read yesterdays post you will have seen my trip to the Yorkshire Sculpture Park, where she also has stuff on display.

Oh, and there was also a hot chocolate and a Sausage sandwich as well as a trip to the soap shop which were all most enjoyable too!

Out in the van – Yorkshire Sculpture Park

Wet. Very wet,. Moist, damp and soaked. Drenched. Sodden.

Where: Yorkshire sculpture park, Wakefield, West Yorkshire, England

When: 14th February 2022

Why: Been before but didn’t get to see it all so wanted to return

With: Just me and the dog, Theo

The sculpture park is a huge country park, scattered with some quite fabulous sculptures from a variety of rather famous folk, including Damien Hirst who grew up in Yorkshire. You can walk for hours and hours, taking in monstrously huge works of art, and there are indoor and outdoor exhibits to enjoy, as well as some great walled gardens.

But sometimes it just pisses down with rain and you get so wet that you spend the whole time shouting ‘stop running you bastard, you’ll pull me over’ at the dog, and you head back to the van soaked to the skin because it turns out the coat you wore is not at all waterproof.

I took some photos, but to be honest my glasses were so obscured they were somewhat of a surprise to me…

Think I will go back in the summer!

Photon – FOWC Prompt response

Just some random waffly bits in response to a prompt

In response to Fandango’s FOWC prompt “Quandary


If you had a telescope, a particularly powerful telescope, and you knew exactly where to look, and you were somewhat lucky and wholly tenacious, and you pointed it in the direction of the Horse Head nebula at just the right time on just the right day then, without doubt, you would still have absolutely no chance of seeing the SS Quandary.

And if you could not see the Quandary, you could most certainly not see her Captain as he stood proudly on her deck, legs akimbo and hands on his narrow hips. The Quandary shuddered and lurched, the auto-grav screaming against the deafening cacophony of sirens. Yet, resolute, he stared out from the bridge, watching as enemy fighters ripped gold and crimson slashes in the vast blackness of space.

He followed a photon torpedo as it tracked through the darkness in front of him, fast in pursuit of one of his combat drones.

“Funny old word ‘Photon,’ he said to himself, tightening the thick black belt around his waist and straightening his crisp white uniform trousers before pulling his jacket tight by the lapels.

“Photon, pho…ton, photon, photon, phooooo ton,” he said to no one in particular, the word bubbling around inside his mouth. He beckoned to a young ensign who was sat at a console to his right, punching away at something that was almost certainly futile and would not make one jot of difference when it came to their impending doom.

“Yes Captain Myers?” said the ensign, looking up from his screen, the pale light of the monitor splashed across his pallid skin.

“Photon, ” said the Captain, “funny old word isn’t it.”

The ensign shifted uncomfortably. It was obviously not a rhetorical question, and given the captain’s tone he assumed the answer was in the affirmative.

“Er, yes, yes it is,” the ensign replied, one eye on the captain, the other on his screen. It was mostly a sea of red and red was never a colour you wanted to see on anything when you were being attacked by an armada of ships that seemed intent on your destruction.

The captain chuckled to himself, silently mouthing the word over and over as he walked slowly forwards towards the vast window that stretched one side of the deck to the other.

The ensign settled back into his seat and returned to his screen. What little colour there was in his face drained as he watched a rather large something beep slowly as it tracked across his screen.

“Sir, ” he said nervously, “Sir, there is something you need to see.”

“Really?” replied Myers slowly as he watched fighter after fighter evaporate into a million glistening shards before his eyes. “Are you sure? It’s just that…”

“Yes sir,” interrupted the ensign. “you need to see it now sir, it is….”

“Oh, no need,” said Myers as he stiffened to attention, his eyes fixed on the thing that was winding it’s way through the drifting mass of debris towards them.

He half turned towards where the ensign sat, the ship shuddering once more and huge geysers of steam bursting from the floor as the lights flickered and dimmed.

“See, look there he said,” pointing out towards where the thing screamed towards them. “Photon…”

Out in the van – Scarbrough

Popped over to the east coast…

Where: Scarborough, East Yorkshire, England

When: 29th January 2022

Why: Went to watch rugby And decided to pop into town after for fish and chips.

With: Me, my youngest, Tom, and his friend Henry.

It is a 2 hour drive in the van to Scarborough so we set off pretty early in an absolute Gale and got there just in time to watch the rugby match. The result was somewhat disappointing as we lost but it was good to be outdoors Even though it was blowing so hard and at times was difficult just to stand up straight.

We decided to head down to the beach front in Scarborough to get some fish-and-chips which were absolutely fantastic then we spent a little time in the arcades and having a walk about and we finished off with an ice cream and some lovely views of the Bay in the dark. We didn’t really have a great deal of time to spend because we had to make a 2 hour journey back home but it was a great way to spend the day.

I probably spent as much time sat in the Van driving as I did watching the rugby and eating delicious fish-and-chips but I don’t mind that it’s all part of the fun. We didn’t take the dog though because whilst he can make a 2 hour journey there have been a lot of problems with animals getting sick having gone in the water on the East Coast so we decided to keep him safe.

Mostly it was just a rather nice trip out in the sunshine and the blowing winds and a great excuse To have my favourite lemon ice cream.