The proof of the pudding....

Who said that romance is dead? A couple of weeks ago I took Diana for a uniquely amatory experience - a 'rawmantic dinner' at a private house just around the corner from where we live. You think you know what is going on in your neighbourhood but here was a new world of raw vegan food - on our doorstep.

Now, I know what you're thinking; 'the cheapskate - taking Di out for a lettuce and raw carrot salad followed by an artfully-sliced apple'.

Think again.

This was a delicious, four course meal of exquisitely intense flavours. We sat down with two other couples, the hosts and a visiting female trainer (in tantric yoga - seemed appropriate) living in France. We started with a fresh fruit and beetroot-coloured juice in a flute, the rim of which was frosted with psyllium husks. This was followed by a spicy, cold soup again of a blood-red colour derived from beetroot, with an accompanying 'pumpkin cracker' made in a dehydrator. Then we enjoyed a couple of sushi-like delicacies consisting of avocado and sprouting seeds wrapped in some kind of seaweed. The 'main course' was a raw vegan lasagna with 'courgette pasta' and a filling of, among other things, cashew nut paste. This was served with a sprouting seed salad (probably alfalfa or broccoli). The 'pudding' was a slice of a carob-topped 'torte' with a fruit filling and whole grapes on a dried nut base. To conclude, we enjoyed two exquisite after-dinner, heart-shaped, carob and nut-paste, 'petit fours'.

In terms of volume (my family's usual measure of a 'good meal') we hadn't eaten a great deal but in our post-prandial discussion we all commented on how satisfyingly-full we felt. I'm sure that this had something to do with the intensity of the flavours in this uncooked dinner so skilfully concocted from unadulterated ingredients.

If I could eat food like this all the time, I too could live on a raw vegan diet but I can't get away from the idea that our hosts must spend most of their time in the kitchen.

Meanwhile we continue with our more-modest, plant-based diet in the hope that it makes a contribution to slowing the growth of the tumours in my lungs. By the way, I have to take the medics word for the existence of these tumours. I don't currently suffer from any direct physical effects. I do suffer from the 'chemo' medication I trustingly swallow and from the sciatica resulting from the scoliosis in my lower spine but not from the cancer itself.

Apparently, scoliosis is more widespread in the general population than you might think. We sufferers should form a support group, perhaps with Richard III as our patron?

Meanwhile, we should learn about the all-important latest CT scan results this Thursday (28th) at my regular oncology appointment. The proof of this particular pudding could well be in the eating.

And if things have not gone well and if I do become less mobile as has my old friend Geoff, who suffers from a similar condition, I can now, at least, look forward to enjoying the greater variety of wildlife visiting the garden. Why? Because my generously-motivated brother has dug a pond for me. It is still at the stage where it needs the softening effects of plants and the covering of the unattractive black liner at the margins but its an exciting addition.

I have wanted a pond since Shakespeare shredded the reputation of the last of the Plantagenets - now, at last, thanks to recent excavations, I have one.