While George W Bush was in his big white house reminiscing about his days as a cheerleader, and making bad decisions about Guantanamo Bay, I lived close by in a much smaller place.

I've been thinking about it a lot this week because, following my fortnight in a hotel, the home I'm now in while my flat is being repaired is the most "similar" to my old rental in Washington DC.

Similar is in quote marks because I'm trying to figure out what's happened to blocks of flats in recent years.

Back at my Washington DC residence the only thing that would count as an "amenity" was the courtyard behind my block where you could get glimpses of the nearby posher apartments.

There were nine floors and my then-girlfriend and I made friends with some of our neighbours.

We had some good times with them including hosting an Oscar party where everyone's attention was more on the cocktails than the ceremony, going to the then infamous House of Secrets, and learning the legend of Cool "Disco" Dan (The Washington DC equivalent to Banksy but back in the 80s, 90s, and early 00s and definitely not worth millions).

And nothing was forced.

But nowadays the world of flats in big tower blocks seem to be all about the amenities where you can, apparently, become friends with the neighbours.

The block I'm temporarily calling home has a rooftop garden, a mezzanine garden, co-working spaces, a sky lounge, a screening room, a gym, a games lounge, a private dining room for hire, and apparently there's a timetable of residents' events.

That's not all. There's also a pet spa.

Yes, if you have a pet you can give it a short back and sides, or just a wash, without having to leave the 43-storey building.

And another nearby block has those things, minus the pet spa, but also has a podcast room, a green screen studio for filming social media clips, and many others.

This makes me wonder whether these tower block developers are intentionally trying to create the Gen Z equivalent of an old people's home.

I'm happy to be proved wrong and would love to write a column at the end of my month-long stay talking about how I've made loads of friends and am going to shack up with the woman of my dreams.

But I'm not convinced this will happen.

This isn't me saying dealing with having incurable bowel cancer has led to me becoming anti-social.

But when I come home from a day of hospital appointments — this week I saw a surgeon on Monday, had blood tests on Tuesday, immunotherapy and chemotherapy on Wednesday, and had my chemo pump removed on Friday — just want to sleep, not socialise in a "mezzanine garden" or bend and stretch at a yoga session.

I did wonder whether the Washington DC version of me, who was working as a much less famous intern than Monica Lewinsky, would have embraced this world of rooftop gardens and screening rooms if they'd existed back then.

I can't say for sure whether I even would have moved into such a place where the starting rent for a one-bedroom flat in 2025 is around £1,700.

But I know my life now is very different to what it was when I was chasing the American dream.

Back then I'd do a "drive-by" each month where I'd stand on a street corner and one of JFK's former advisers would pull up in his car and hand me a bundle of notes through a slightly rolled down window.

The words written on these pieces of paper would be typed up and turned into his column for the next edition of the political magazine I was interning at.

Life isn't just different because people now trust email as a way to send columns (including the one you're reading at the moment) to editors.

It's now also very different because getting cancer wasn't in my plan for my 40s.

But I do think the Washington DC version of me would be pleased that I'm using my experiences as a cancer patient to spearhead a campaign for fellow patients. My past self, if he could see into this future, would be proud that he'd stayed true to himself. Just like Bush's cheerleading self might be chuffed that he got a shout-out from the most powerful man in the world.

That's probably about all Bush and I have in common, so back to the Daily Express’s Cancer Care campaign.

We want all cancer sufferers to have access to mental health care support both during and after their treatment.

This isn't an amenity. It's a necessity.

And the sooner the Department for Health and the NHS make this happen across the country the better.