When we arranged to bring the boat back from Lincoln tomorrow I envisaged a gentle tootle down the Trent, with JP and brother crewing and me relaxing on deck in the warm August sunshine.
Turns out we've got to tackle the tidal river which means getting up early to catch the tide. John's been researching it and scaring the hell out of me with tales of running aground on mudflats and colliding with sand-barges - like the one in the pic. My thoughts are now plagued with visions of capsize, ship-wreck and disaster.
Am I crazy to be embarking on this voyage when really I should be resting at home?
Trouble is, today I am suffering from Chemo Brain - when everything seems impossible - unlike Steroid Brain, when anything is possible.
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