what a year

2014 was both bloody tough, and bloody amazing, in a multitude of strange and mind-boggling ways. It really was an incredible, roller-coaster of a year. There were so many happy moments – a chilly trip to the beach at Brighton with Mum, the St. Peter’s College choir singing the piece by James Whitbourn that was dedicated to her, karaoke in the Bronx and moving in to my mad 8-student house are just some of the many. I bought a bright orange coat (life’s too short not to wear orange) and blew all my savings on a fantastic trip to Peru, involving sleepless nights of Salsa dancing in Cusco, llamas and countless Incan ruins. Successful chemo and radiotherapy meant we could have a last family holiday to Sweden, the most memorable moment probably being the incredibly poignant Alfred Nobel museum. I may not be able to change the world, but boy did that place make me want to.

2014 was also a year plagued by glandular fever and Christmastime in hospital, of scans, duty nurses and ‘news’. Making my blog public in September opened my eyes to the mind-numbing pervasiveness of cancer, as messages of support rolled in from strangers who had or were going through the same thing. It is completely humbling, and your words of wisdom are invaluable.

So thank you, thank you, thank you. For messages of support from all around the world from new and old friends and strangers, to my many fantabulous housemates and Oxford friends for being there (and almost definitely awake at 3am should I ever need a hug), to new and old family. Thank you for taking me dancing even when it was so close to exams. Thank you for bringing Mum over to Oxford to visit, and for coming to see me, again and again. Thank you for letting me quadbike my troubles away. There is not one moment of one day where your support doesn’t make awful things a bit more bearable.

2014 was fabulous and horrid, and I’m certain that 2015 will be even more so, but I have every faith and hope that there will be the occasional orange coat and crazy night of dancing. It did, of course, feature countless cups of tea and scones – a pattern I hope will continue through 2015, because however terrifying and absurd things can seem, they are almost always improved by a cup of tea and by taking them a scone at a time.

Happy New Year! Bring it ON.

And happy birthday, Dad!


2 thoughts on “what a year

  1. Rosie, your blog is so honest and moving, and yet full of life – and food, which is so grounding. Your mum and dad must be proud of you. So glad to have discovered it. One of your mum’s many friends, Karin (now in Seattle)

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