On Saturday 12 April 2025, I’ll be on a panel at the Karavan Press Literary Festival in Pinelands.

Life and Laughter is a theme I take to as the proverbial duck to …

Cat Therapy relies heavily on this theme, and I picked out a little snippet to share with you all here.

‘It’s just struck me that my stretch towards the light is becoming shorter and shorter and I have left out an important part of the healing process. Laughter.

I thought this cancer/corona journey would make serious inroads into curbing my sense of humour. Yes, I’ll admit, I have become more serious about life. I don’t laugh as loudly or as often as I used to. There are some who think that it’s about time too. But I was relieved to find that instead of stressing about the breathing technique, while I was lying half naked on a sci-fi scanning machine, I was frantically suppressing a fit of hysterical giggles.

Okay I don’t blame you if you think I’ve truly lost the plot now. But here’s the thing. I was a little nervous and embarrassed to find that my radiographer was a young man. He was a kind, gentle one but still a man. Despite my age, I have a little bit of a prudish streak in me. Of course I was being silly. The man was highly professional and this was his job. I trusted him implicitly and did exactly as I was told. “Put your arms above your head.” I obliged and lay perfectly still. “Listen to the voice and take a deep breath when you’re prompted to.” I was ready for that. I’d practised holding my breath and knew that I could double or triple the time required if I had to. After the third time, the female voice grew silent. I kept still, waiting for the signal that it was all over. Just then, a strong male voice broke into my reverie. “You have excellent…lungs!”  It took all my will power to hold back the bubble of giggles. I made it back to my car before the laughter took over and I let it spill over until the tears streamed down my face.’

See you on Saturday!