I do not quite remember how I got
My ticket for this route
Or found my narrow place in this compartment:
I must have been thinking other thoughts,
My mind elsewhere, when I took this line.
I must have been distracted:
How else could I have come this far
Towards a place I do not wish to go?

I do not recognise the placenames as they pass;
Strange animals and men in masks
Howl and whine round corners of the ugly stops,
Biting the air as I alight
And snap and snarl at my approach.

I do not have the clothes or wherewithal
For this windy destination,
But I do not know how I can now go back:
The ticket booths have closed,
No tariff is displayed
And I do not have the currency
To pay for my return.

The driver holds me ransom but will not say his price,
So as the time advances I sit in here unwilling
As the stations pass faster and faster,
And the carriage rocks harder and harder,
Waiting for that station down the line
Where I do not want to go.

May 2006 was certainly the most prolific month for Sandra, at least so far as finishing previously-started works was concerned. This was completed on the 22nd.

Forgot this recent one. It was a fragment, almost completed, hanging over from the end of last year, which I managed to compete during my 2 weeks' break from treatment. Not one of my best, perhaps, but it expresses what I wanted to say.

The tension we were both under at this time is shown by a draft email, which began

I am very fortunate in having a enormously sympathetic husband - my sole carer - but even with him I sometimes find myself yelling and telling him to B***** and F*** off. (Today was a case in point, still desperately ill Day 8 after chemo, knowing I shall never get better only worse, and feeling I might just as well die NOW - so don't bother me with trifles, get a sense of perspective about things, like being scolded for bringing an item to be included in the dustbin bag just as he clasps it closed, not even sealed up - so what - or not understanding how he wants the table cleared to place down the teatray.)

We often lost our temper with one-another, snapping over trivialities which -when other tensions had spent days building up- took on the mantle of last straws. That did, however, make us each realise what the other was going through: it's not an easy journey for anyone.