A Note Before You Dive In

No, the finger is not at you...please, come on in.

If you’re reading this—welcome.

This is a new beginning for an old blog. A rework, really.

One I originally wrote during my own personal ride on the C-train.

I decided to revisit it—not to reinvent the wheel, but to tidy things up a little. Maybe sharpen the flow. But still hold tight to what mattered most to me when I first wrote it.

Because it’s always been raw (I never sugar-coated things then, and I won’t start now), what you’ll read here is real.

These posts were written as close to the moment as possible—capturing the emotions, the chaos, the confusion... and hopefully, a laugh or two.

Scottish humour warning: dry, self-deprecating, sometimes bordering on dark, and likely to be quite to very sweary, but always well-meant.

Ride on the…

Along the way, I might pause to explain things as I saw—and see—them.

Take the title, for instance.

It’s called Ride on the... because I don’t usually call it a journey. Others might, and that’s totally fair—that’s their prerogative. There’s noo right or wrong. But ride suits my way of thinking better. This ride? It’s such an individual thing.

And for what it’s worth?

A journey feels... elective. Purposeful. Like something you plan for—maybe even pack snacks.

And sure, there were moments of growth, perspective, even the odd joy. But cancer itself? No.Not it.

Some moments were meaningful, yes. But I didn’t sign up for this.I didn’t embark on it.

I was put on it.

Truthfully, I see myself as a passenger. Nothing less—but certainly not more.

So I’ll skip the whole I won, I fought, I conquered bit.

I didn’t. I took the medicine. I showed up. Science—and a decent amount of blind luck—got me to where I am.

Back to the blog...

I’m not totally sure how the dates will land in this new format, but I’ll try to include the original date at the top of each post for context.

When I first started this, I had no idea where to begin.

It mostly became a collection of snapshots—little insights into where my head was at the time. Sometimes messy. Sometimes clear. Always honest.

The writing? It’ll be unique. Not bad (hopefully). Not great (almost certainly). But definitely mine.

These posts will wander. They’ll double back, take detours, maybe even get a little lost—but I’ll do my best to keep them grounded in something real. Eventually.

There’s no roadmap here. No big plan. Just reflections, real talk, and a bit of mischief along the way.

Strap yourself in.

I hope for a couple of things... okay, maybe three.

1. That you enjoy it. Maybe even crack a wee smile.

2. That it helps. You, a loved one, a friend. Someone newly diagnosed. Someone somewhere on their ride.

3. That you share it.

Now yes—I know I said two things. And then gave you three. But let’s be honest: number 3 is really just an extension of number 2 with a guilt-trip built in.

So let’s call it what it is: if you don’t share it because you liked it, maybe share it because it might actually help someone. That one matters more.

And yes—I lost my way there for a moment. Again.

(If you're looking for structure and order… well, this may not be your blog.)

FUCK CANCER.