BATTLING a disease to within an inch of your life must be not only exhausting but completely devastating.

But Stephen Sutton has spent the last four years as the most positive person I have ever seen despite being told his case of teenage cancer is incurable and thinking that just last week he would be checking out for good.

For those of you who have not seen Stephen's Story - he was diagnosed with cancer when he was 15 and after battling it for three years, was told at the start of last year that it was incurable. He then made a Bucket List of 46 things he wanted to do before he kicked the proverbial bucket and has lived more than I believe I have in my 24 years, raising millions for the Teenage Cancer Trust, meeting idols like Jimmy Carr and Jason Manford, sky diving, be an extra in a movie, and crowd surfing at a rock gig in a rubber dinghy.

I never really thought about it until I saw some old friends at a wedding last month, but I really do need to live more, because once I reach that point where I could be giving my final thumbs up, I want to know I have lived, not just been alive.

Although my clock may not be ticking like Stephen's (who knows, I could get run over tomorrow or be diagnosed with something so I may not have as long as I think) I've started taking small steps to filling the gaps in my life that surround work and my dog.

On Friday I went on a Black Country Beer Bus to celebrate with my friends for the release of their latest single. I drank and was merry at several pubs. I embraced new people, old faces, and even sang (probably not in key due to the level of cider in m body) with my friend who was playing a song I wrote in college on the guitar at the last pub stop.

As the last two standing we walked for pizza and sat happy as larry on a wall talking about past and future life.

On Saturday I cured my hangover with a double feature at the movies. I saw Captain America: The Winter Soldier and The Amazing Spider-Man 2 with a small break for an Appletiser (no alcohol after the night before) at the boozer across the road.

After all this I came back to work on Monday with a smile on my face and something different to say to my colleagues about how I spent my time off, my spare time, the time that really counts in making life memories.

Next weekend I'm going back to that pub with my old friend once again for an ale mini festival while also moving house. Because I won't remember moving house when I'm 90 and on my death bed, but I'll remember dancing and the feeling of happiness, and that's far more important.