The house is on the market and this morning I had my first viewers; really nice people. I didn’t find out anything about them, but they looked interesting and would be an asset to the street. (Would like to know them better). When they left I noticed a box (just a fancy box that had sweets in it, which I think my granddaughters gave me) containing some of my jewellery, was slightly open. It wouldn’t close on account of something sticking out – I investigated and did a double take – triple take – in fact couldn’t believe my eyes. I just stood there, musing at the things in my hand – turning them over in awe and wonderment – only the car keys that I thought I’d thrown into the recycling bin before Christmas! Right at the top of the box were my red earrings that I wear regularly, so how can I have missed the car keys. It still hasn’t sunk in – all that time spent looking for them – the hassle trying to get a new key – not being able to get into my garage – and they were there all the time. But still remains the mystery – why would I put them in with my jewellery in the first place? It’s official, I am going mad!
Born in Liverpool at the end of WW2, but raised in Skelmersdale. I first studied art in Southport from 1960-63 and worked in graphic design till I married. In December 1969 I moved to Zambia with my husband and two young children. There I taught art in the local girls school, illustrated for the National Correspondence College and did all sorts of other artwork, paid and unpaid. In 1978 I divorced and remarried in the summer of 1980. In 1985 I became ill and the following year cancer was diagnosed. There was no treatment available in Zambia and so I had to go to the UK. After recovering from a radium needle implant I went back to Zambia, but 18 months later the cancer recurred and it was off to the UK again for radical surgery. This time I realised I must stay in the UK where treatment was available, so I never returned to Zambia nor my husband. A few months later I applied for a degree course, but two years later the disease metastasised and I spent most of my final year in and out of hospital. It’s been a long hard road, but I’m still plodding on and it is now 24 years since my last cancer treatment. Because of my experience of cancer and surviving against the odds, I try and help others cope with their devastating diagnosis and prognosis. View all posts by willosworld