Before Peter Betts died in 2023, he wanted to pass on what he had learned over many years of negotiating at Cops – including how Paris 2015 was saved at the last bellOn 15 March 2022, I was on a video call with a dear friend when I experienced a twitching on the left-hand side of my face and a slurring of my speech. My wife, Fiona, took me to hospital because we both thought I was having a stroke, and I spent the journey in the car adjusting to my probable death. Interestingly, I did not feel fear or anger; only sadness and disappointment that it was all going to end sooner than I had expected. I survived: but six days later, we learned that the cause of my condition was a particularly aggressive form of brain tumour called a glioblastoma.Since then I have read a number of accounts written by cancer sufferers. Many of them start with an uncertain diagnosis, often with a reasonable percentage chance of survival. But unlike these accounts it was absolutely clear that the tumour would kill me: there was no cure and I was given a median life expectancy of 15 to 18 months. Of course, I hoped to do better than the median, but the medical team said that clinging to that possibility would probably be a mistake because it would distract me from enjoying the time I had left. My immediate reaction was genuinely to recognise that in some respects I was lucky. Some people drop dead with no warning, whereas I would perhaps have a year to come to terms with and make sense of my life. This enabled me from the beginning to take a positive approach to my situation and determined me to make the most of the little time I had. Continue reading...