• I really ought to make sure I’ve got his recipe for those legendary roast potatoes.
• The office is so full of unnecessary stuff… perhaps if I move his desk out of the way, the boys will have more room for their computer. Their desk is a bit hemmed in. We might even get a sofa to go there instead, come to think of it. That would look nice.
• I’d better get him to leave me an instruction manual about how to use all the office equipment, too, and what our pricing structures really are. When I’ve got those, I’ll feel more comfortable with everything.
• I won’t have to listen to him over-explaining things any more, which drives me mad anyway. Why use one word when fifty eight will do?
• No more wet towels on the bed, thank God. And don’t get me started on the chaos he leaves after using the bathroom.
• Finally, I can sort the laundry properly before each wash, and know it’s being done right.
• I’ll have to do the ironing myself from now on, which is a drag. At least I won’t have all his shirts with complicated pocket arrangements to think about, though.
• I won’t ever leave the kitchen in as much of a tip as he does when he cooks.
• The garage is full of stuff which will be sorted “one day.” I can’t wait to tidy up, fill the car and get to the tip.
• I wonder what I should tell our clients when they ask to speak to him. I hope they don’t stop employing me because they’re too embarrassed to find out if he’s dead yet. I still need to make a living.
• He’s always so grumpy at airports. At least I won’t have to put up with his bad travelling attitude any more.
• I’m never going to have to see him in those bloody awful slippers which – though he knows how much I hate them and how ridiculous they make him look – he still continues to wear.
• Come to think of it, that fucking dressing gown will be the first thing to go in the bin, as well.
• I’m so angry that he thinks this is a suitable time to get ill. It isn’t. Our little family is a team, and I’m fucked if he thinks we can play as well with a quarter down. We can’t.

I don’t want this to be happening. I don’t even recognise these feelings as my own. These are all the ridiculous thoughts that have gone through my mind since I found out that the man I share my life and my children with has advanced cancer.

Every time I’ve turned around for the past 12 years of my life, he’s been right there beside me. He’s driven me mad, he’s frustrated me, he’s counselled me, he’s made me laugh, he’s made me cry, he’s made love to me, he’s pissed me off royally, he’s supported me, he’s fathered the two most amazing little boys in the history of the world, he’s helped us to become leaders in our field of work, he’s made lots of friends and very few enemies, he’s made me squeal with laughter and cry in frustration. He’s stretched me to breaking point and he’s shown me happiness that I never knew could be found. He’s not perfect, but he’s my husband, and I love him. I’m not sure how we can even think about living without him. Our journey has just moved in a new and completely unexpected direction, and I don’t mind admitting that we’re all totally fucking petrified.

Love Fanny x