One of these days, I swear, I am going to start writing that book, the ultimate guide to living with a shitty disease and I'll start with the chapter on how I went on a 15 km walk because I was so very mad at the world and all the unsolved problems in my life and the loneliness of being ill and I may include some of the pictures I took of the sweeping views across the hills and the newly born lambs kicking their little legs on the field and the first fresh leaves of the beech saplings down low in the forest and in the next chapter, I will list the thoughts that rushed through my mind, briefly, before I found the rhythm of my steps and my breath and how after a while, I was humming, some melody, barely melodious, more like counting steps, and how the sound of the windproof jacket as my arms were swishing back and forth, back and forth made me realise that nothing matters and that everything matters and that I can handle it, have always been able to handle it, the whole brilliant, miserable, frightening, amazing catastrophe of my life, how I love it.