Cancer Journal

In March 2003, my daughter Emma had her first operation; in July the second and the cancer seemed to accelerate remorselessly from then on. In less than a year she was dead.

At the time the war in Iraq was being prosecuted and the air was full of global warnings.

I always keep a diary when travelling but the kind of journal I wrote from July 2003 was altogether different. It was handwritten in hospital waiting rooms, on trains and planes and in the dark hours of the many wakeful long nights. Every so often I would type it up and add reflections when a little distance gave me better insight. Looking at it again I am puzzled as to how I sound so rational in what was a confused and anguished time. Even now, it is painful to read.

The extracts on this blog are linked to a new web site dedicated to her memory: