Reflections on the Post Storm Clear-up.

Well this is the 106th and final post of 2012. If you have followed through this year you will have noticed the storm I have been riding for almost 12 months. So what did 2012 bring me? In many ways a lot of misery.

I have been through the deaths of 7 people known to me including my mum. Is that too many for a 43 year old to deal with? Well my world is one of sudden death but it has been a tremendously difficult time for me. But I'm still here.

I had my relapse, the 2nd since moving to Hertfordshire in 2007. Is that bad sign? Maybe. It is sometimes easy to forget that I have a mental illness as most of the time I'm fine. On Friday I will see my Doctor for the first time since my relapse. He will continue along in his deluded way that I have 3 conditions that I don't have but that is what is on his screen so it must be true. This despite the fact that at least 1 of those labels was a differential diagnosis by a Doctor who wasn't even qualified. Why do Doctors choose to deceive us?

This last year seems like a time of deceit and lies. But who are we lying to? Do I lie to myself? Am I still deluded? My books say one thing but those with power say otherwise.

As I enter 2013 I am stuck and unhappy. Not yet mentally ill but vulnerable to that much feared return to my madness. I cannot predict my future any more than I can change my past. Only time will tell where the next part of my story goes.

Yet it wasn't all bad. I have written another book during some of the most difficult times of my life. And of course there was the award that wasn't. I didn't win but being short-listed proves that at least some of the students value what I do. As a noted a few weeks ago I now trying to judge a day by whether I did some good; I hope I did more good than bad in 2012.

I hope you all have a wonderful New Year and a healthy and prosperous 2013. See you then.

I Heard a Voice.

A Journey,

There is an old proverb attributed to the Chinese philosopher Laozi which states that "a journey of a thousand miles starts with a single step". In reality we go on many long intertwined journeys in our life times so who knows which is the first step. After my last post on Mozart I chose this quiet cold Sunday to begin my journey into Mozart. On the recommendation of my barrister friend Mark I started with the Bassoon Concerto-an excellent first step in this journey. I followed it with La Clemenza di Tito which was new to me. Perhaps there will be more tomorrow.

Mozart and Sunday lunch are a bit of theme for me, today it was chicken. Sadly another theme in my life is nightmares and I had several of those last night. Actually I slept badly before them, my mind was aflame as I went to bed-maybe that is a return of the mixed state my friend Brain talks of. I pray that sleep returns soon otherwise my holiday will be lost. Only a week to go now. I look forward to meeting Dory on Friday.

Will I achieve anything in that week? Only time will tell. Who knows I might even sell some books-as promised the Kindle link for Charon's Ferry is below:

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Charons-Ferry-ebook/dp/B00AR2V0GO/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1356886913&sr=1-1

But for now I will focus on week 17 of the NFL season; I do wish they wouldn't  keep showing the same teams over and over again though.

Time to go now.

I Heard a Voice.

20 Years of Mozart.

Greetings from Hertfordshire. Yes I came galumphing back through surprising good weather laden with presents after what became a great Christmas. We eventually finished our Christmas dinner at about 8.30 having started at 3.15. And as I noted on the day it was a triumph. Boxing Day involved a lot of drinking, curry with my dad then more drinking.

So what of the next few days? Well I have nothing much on the cards other than more cooking-there is a wonderful smell of ham and cloves-catching up on recorded NFL games and listening to music. I came home with the complete works of Mozart courtesy of dad hitting the jackpot in a second hand shop before the holiday. It covers 170 CDs and I doubt I will ever get through it all. But that is not all, I also have the complete works of Haydn and 40 Mendelssohn CDs. So there is lot to do.

Hopefully I will do some blogging in the next few days as well as recuperating from a long term. It is nice to be away from the chaos. See you all soon.

I Heard a Voice.

A Triumphant Goose!

Well, we had lunch! The goose was a mighty triumph and not too much stress either. A brother sister combination did the trick. Now time for the pudding. We miss mum but I'm sure she is looking down on us now.

To all my loyal readers Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

I Heard a Voice.

"Charon's Ferry" is Published.

Greetings all from a very wet and windy Kent. I drove down this morning through spray and driving rain to make it unscathed in remarkably quick time. I will be staying with my dad until Friday next week so another culinary adventure has begun.

Anyway, on a slightly different note it is exactly 3 years barring a single day since the ebook of "A Pillar of Impotence" came out. Well today, the sequel "Charon's Ferry" was published in the same format. So if any of you are interested and have ereaders-it won't be out for Kindle until next week- check out the link below:

http://chipmunkapublishing.co.uk/shop/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=3&products_id=2316

It seems strange that once again I am in print. I never thought or planned to write another book but the views of friends persuaded me otherwise. Now let's hope someone buys it!

More soon.

I Heard a Voice.

A Simple Lunch.

It is good to be away from the melee of work. Day 3 of my holiday and my mood seems to be better. I was low yesterday but with an extra risperidone parity has been restored. I'm now in the countdown to Christmas.

Task of the week has been completed-the proofs of "Charon's Ferry" are back with the publisher and the ebook should be out this week. I'm running down my stocks of food as I'm off to see my dad tomorrow. This has what led me to a simple lunch of scrambled egg on toast. It is possible to do simple things well a fact that mum sometimes struggled to grasp towards the end of her life. Talking of mum she came to me in my dreams once again as we face the first Christmas without her.

I'm actually looking forward to Christmas. I'm going down early to help sort things out food wise. Dad is currently struggling to get through cards-mum was prolific card sender so it is all a bit overwhelming for him.

When I get back on here is anyone's guess. I'll see what I can do when I'm away. What I do know for certain is that once the link for the book is with me I will share it with all you people out there might have e readers. Bye for now.

I Heard a Voice.

The Haven of Dry Land.

Well, after 6 weeks of being buffeted by the waves of a storm of madness, the ship that is me has finally hit dry land. I am on holiday. It has in truth been carnage and did not stop even up to today. I'm getting too old for this shit. But it still gives me a buzz.

In complete contradiction I remain unhappy and want to leave. The most confusing thing is I have no idea how to fill in my precious mood diary. Yes the one that monitors the slings and arrows of living with a mood disorder.

My good friend Brian is composer. Actually he is not just a composer, he is bordering on genius. He also like so many of my friends has bipolar. He and the blogger Izzi have both tried to explain what they call a mixed state-to be manic and depressed at the same time.

Whilst I do not have diagnosis of bipolar there are more than a few people, Brian and Izzi included, who think that is the best description of my life. I am not worthy to make diagnoses-I don't get paid enough-but given my current confusion I need to think of something.

A 3rd friend Heather, asked me in the week if I was manic-and she knows. Well I am but I'm not, Brian and Izzi's description best fits how I feel. Problem is I have never felt like this before so I don't know what I'm doing. But I have increased my risperidone.

And what of my holiday? I'm off to see dad on Thursday staying down to the following Friday. On Monday I must visit my dying friend in hosptial-there comes death in my life again. That aside though I have a mission for the first few days:

I have the proofs of "Charon's Ferry", time for a final edit. With luck for all you e readers out there you could be able to buy it next week. I will put up the link.

Bye for now.

I Heard a Voice.

The Finest Singing Congregation Ever?

Have any of you out there in blogland ever been arrogant enough to imagine your own funeral? I have been that arrogant at times. Although back in the days of my madness arrogance was not to the fore in my view despite the protestations of the shrinks. The key question of course is would anyone turn up? Then there is the music. Back then I doubted anyone would turn up as it appeared no one cared. Today perhaps it would be a different story.

On the eve of my mum's funeral my dad was fretting that no one would come. In the end there were way too many people, well at least for catering purposes. Mum would have been surprised but unless she knows something I don't-which she may well do now-she would not have seen it. Would I want to see my own funeral? In my arrogance yes.

I would hope there would be a choir but they cost money. And the hymns? I would want the spine tingling "Lo He Comes With Clouds Descending". I recorded that in my very first recording in December 1979. I never thought I would sing it again after I left. But I was wrong.

Yesterday after much soul searching, pressure, and deliberation I did make the long journey to the Cotswolds to bury another part of my past. It was a long day, I drank too much but I got to sing that epic hymn. And sing we did. I hazard a guess but it must have been one of the finest singing congregations ever assembled.

I don't think I am important enough to warrant a choir when I die let alone be mighty enough to hear that mighty hymn.

I have been composing this blog since yesterday. Just before I came to write I learned of another death. One of the 2 priests who officiated whom I have known for 35 years and whose son was in my class at school got home from the funeral and promptly dropped dead himself. It has indeed been a dark few days for that famous choir.

That choir scarred me in my later life. Judging by what others had to say they had been too. We must all bury our pasts but move on to the future too. I know not what that holds but I am gladdened that I am not alone on feeling that strange life of then even 30 years later.

I Heard a Voice.

Mauling the All Blacks.

In the autumn of 1978 I had been in my new life in Cambridge but a few weeks when the All Blacks came to town. Yes the mighty New Zealand rugby team was touring and one of their stop off points was at Grange Road Cambridge to play the university. My school was and still is just over the road. I watched standing atop a wall that just about gave an overview of the action. In the evening the All Blacks came to the school for a Maori Feast. We didn't get any food but meeting them was amazing for a 9 year old.

I have followed England rugby team most of my life. In that time victories over the All Blacks have been rare occurrences. Cue yesterday and we witnessed history again at Twickenham. Bit this was different, England didn't just beat the All Blacks they utterly destroyed them. It was a record score and dominant mauling of one of finest rugby sides of all time. Couple that with West Ham's 3-1 win over Chelsea it has been a fine sporting weekend for me. Now let's hope the Rams can humble the 49ers tonight and it will be complete.

It has very much the feel today of the day after. I think I am recovered from the drama of Friday although inevitably it will be me who follows up at the hospital tomorrow. Yes tomorrow, the day in which I may know more of my future one way or another.

And another quiet Sunday for me before the next storm. I have amused myself with Puccini, reading, and trying to stay warm. In the oven a half shoulder of lamb is slowly roasting. I have half of bottle of Chilean red left over from last night-the stew was a triumph by the way. The Rat Pack night was great too although I left well before it finished-I must be getting old!

I Heard a Voice.

Kick off on High.

Yesterday dawned cold and bright in my part of Hertfordshire. Had everything gone to plan I would have had a quiet day and caught up on my long awaited paperwork. But it was not to be. At 11 am I had to deal with mania. Having passed the buck, something I should have learned to do a long time ago I went for lunch at 12.30 pm. Yet I never made it. Crisis had struck again. It would be 9.50 pm before I was finally able to stand down.

Crises are what I do. It is not always me as I'm not always there. So what was different with this crisis? Well it directly affected those at the highest levels of the university. The same people who had been led to believe that it is not me who makes the tough decision.

Who was it advising young inexperienced Doctor who had never been involved in a Mental Health Act Assessment? Who was it who advised the police that they needed to take over after a long standoff? I guess you know the answer to that-me! But of course I don't make those decisions. So where were those who claimed to do so? Nowhere to be seen. Whether anyone takes any notice is debatable.

More importantly than me, what of the student? Terrified and confused he is now in a safe place. But his screams remain in my head. It is a frightening experience seeing someone who is terrified being deprived of his liberty. Yet that is sometimes what I have to do.

Today have been recuperate day. I'm shattered but am watching West Ham-they just went 2-1 up-and can contemplate the Spanish beef stew I will be cooking later in white wine with bay and garlic. Then it is time to put my dinner jacket on for the Rat Pack night in the pub.

I Heard a Voice.

And Hast Thou Slain the Jabberwock?

When I was child I learned by heart the Lewis Carroll poem the Jabberwocky. If you are not familiar with it it goes as seen below. I loved it. But why did it come to mind today? Well today I learned that I had not slain one of my Jabberwockies. For 2 hours today I was overwhelmed by that figure from my past who will be buried on Tuesday. I thought I had slain that demon in 2007 and in March this year. I was wrong.


Fortunately I snapped out of it am now focussed on my date with destiny tomorrow. As a measure of being back in control I am listening to music from that time as I write.

Tomorrow will come soon enough and we may know the answer to the question I posed on here some months ago, should I stay of should I go.

Lewis Carroll (1832-1898)        from Through the Looking Glass                     Jabberwocky     'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves         Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:     All mimsy were the borogoves,             And the mome raths outgrabe.     "Beware the Jabberwock, my son!         The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!     Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun             The frumious Bandersnatch!"     He took his vorpal sword in hand:         Long time the manxome foe he sought–     So rested he by the Tumtum tree,             And stood awhile in thought.     And, as in uffish thought he stood,         The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,     Came wiffling through the tulgey wood,             And burbled as it came!     One, two! One, two! And through and through         The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!     He left it dead, and with its head             He went galumphing back.     "And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?         Come to my arms, my beamish boy!     O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!"             He chortled in his joy.     'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves         Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:     All mimsy were the borogoves,             And the mome raths outgrabe. I Heard a Voice.

Where Have I Been?

In case you hadn't noticed, I have been absent from here for quite a while. I've not been avoiding you all just never got round to it. You find me on a cold, wet, and dreary Hertfordshire day in which sensible people would have stayed in bed. I was too busy for that. Yes the chaos continues. But other things have been happening. The last 10 days are a story of a death, a visit, and an opportunity. And a bit of teaching thrown in!

So on this wet night I have Moo Pa Low bubbling away on the hob-that is Thai belly pork braised with coriander root, garlic, chicken stock and five spice to those of us who are linguistically challenged-and slowly bringing the rice to the boil, I will tell you of the last few days.

A man from my past died. I have blogged on him before but would never name him. He was famous. The papers all held obituaries but of course they didn't tell the whole truth. Who ever does when we die? One paper used the word terrifying. That is to put it mildly. In this age of child protection being so paramount maybe one day the story will come out. I am more overt about him in my new book but doubt anyone will notice. But what is hard is the barrage of e mails and invitations to commemorate a man who would have been disgraced now. So I won't be doing a trip to the Cotswolds on Tuesday.

On a nicer note I spent the weekend with my dad. Even spent some time in the pub with him which was great. That never happened when mum was alive. I guess we should have done it a long time ago.

As for the opportunity I have to take a trip north on Thursday. The next part of my epic journey through madness may be decided on that day. Who knows?

Life is winding down now to Christmas. I can't wait to have a break. It has been a dark route this term but I have done some good. Others might say a lot of good. So I go on treating those whom others can't help. And that is something that feels good if only in small bursts.

Hopefully more blogging later in the week.

I Heard a Voice.

Sunday Rage.

My plan today was to catch the 11.31 am train to Cambridge to watch the Hurricanes vs. Pythons. I had arranged the entire weekend around that event. I had been invited to a party in Kent but with regret I had to turn it down. At about 11.15 am I got to station-result? No trains beyond Hitchin. Fucking furious! Why are they so unreliable? I could have caught a bus but it would have turned a 55 minute journey into a 2 hour marathon. Thinking about it I really didn't feel like using up a combined 4 hours of my Sunday there and back.

So I find myself at home after having a fry up. I do have some things to look forward to. I will eat my pheasant I bought for tomorrow today. I bought a bottle of Campo Viejo Reserva and I have batter for pancakes. To fill in time? Perhaps the Magic Flute and some reading. It doesn't lift the rage though!

I Heard a Voice.

A Good Night's Sleep.

Well after my low ebb day yesterday-you may have noticed in yesterday's post-I am feeling somewhat better in general and about myself. That is one of the curious traits of battling a mood disorder, the one in which whatever you have done you feel you're a terrible person. I don't feel that always but I did yesterday. The cure? Finally sleeping well. Barring a couple of dream interruptions I slept for 11 hours. Not done that for weeks.

And so the weekend. Today has been quiet, shopping, rugby, and cooking. I have been slow roasting belly pork with rosemary, garlic, and juniper berries since 3 pm. I just put in some red onions and apples to roast-not convinced by the latter but I will give it a go. This will be doused in a cider and rosemary sauce. The Messiah is playing in the background and the flat is scented with wonderous aromas-God I love cooking!

Tomorrow I will catch the 11.31 train to Cambridge for the Hurricanes vs Pythons at Coldhams Lane. And yes I will be cheering the Pythons despite my current employment situation. Talking of which I applied for a job another university last week. I doubt I have a chance but who knows.

I wish you all a peaceful and fun rest to the weekend. Now to get on with the mashed potatoes and carrots in cider, the latter is courtesy of Rick Stein's Mediterranean book. See you soon.

I Heard a Voice.

Trouble Seeing Your Doctor?

Any of you out there in the UK experience the problems I do in actually getting an appointment with your GP? I guess you all have. If I recall the last government-and this isn't a political comment-decided that the way in which we could speed up meeting our GPs was to change the system of appointments meaning that they could only be booked by phoning at God awful o'clock in the morning in the hope you could beat the rush and actually see someone on that day.

There are 2 major problems with that a) if I am ill all I want to do is sleep and do not need waiting on the phone to try to get though, and b) it is almost impossible for working people like me to do that. If I need a Doctor if I'm physically ill I really don't mind who I see. Mind you when I had my possible kidney infection in the summer the second Doctor I saw tried to pin it down to a cause that was false which was due to side effects of my medication. Well I didn't have what he said and I had been taking that medication for 19 years without a problem.

So why do I mention that today? Well with my mental illness I will only talk to my GP as he at least has some idea. I would like to see him regularly given I'm not deemed mad enough to have a shrink. He also would like to see me regularly. Problem is I can never get an appointment with him.

Last month when I dropped in my repeat prescription they delayed signing it as he wanted to see me. I asked for an appointment but they of course couldn't help me. On Tuesday I dropped in to ask for this month's pills. After work today I went in to collect the prescription to be told it hadn't even been issued. Apparently that was as I was under using. Well he knows that anyway.

I have been on the same medication regime since 2002. I make it work for me in the context of my life and vary my doses. Sunday to Thursday I take 50 mg of trimipramine and 2 mg of risperidone at night. Friday and Saturday I take 150 mg of trimipramine and 2 mgs of risperidone. That is as I need sleep. No anti depressant has ever made an impact on my mood in the 21 years I have been on them. Risperidone, an atypical anti psychotic saved my life. I take the trimipramine to sleep. But I can't function or wake up on the full dose in the week. What is better I work full time and function? Or do I follow Doctor's orders and take myself out of the realm of work? Your choice dear reader.

Looks like I will have to move heaven and earth to get to see him but who knows how long that will take. In  reality I know more than he does. I will keep you posted.

Home now and going back to my university rugby club days and cooking a sausage curry. They were disgusting back then but I hope my honed skills will improve on the past.

I Heard a Voice.

The Judgement of Paris.

Well hello, it has been a while. It is now 2 weeks since my post about the phantom viewers or perhaps no viewers at all. It is 11 days since my last post on Friday carnage. Well it has been eventful and tiring hence the fact I have not been on here. The viewers, if I believe the figures have come back in their droves. We are not even half way through November I am well on course to break my record number of viewers which came in July. As for the the carnage I wrote of it has well and truly carried on. I am earning my money.

There are other things that have come to light. Apparently I don't do emotional work with my students. Or psychological work. I provide practical advice so I'm told. I wonder what my students make of that? Furthermore, I am merely a source of expert advice, I do not know a suicide risk if I see one, and it is useful to have friends in high places. Yes it has been eventful.

This has got me thinking what exactly do I do? Perhaps more importantly is who is my judge? The simple answer to those to questions is I just have conversations with people, and I am judged by those who seek me out. Maybe that is my grand delusion. I started thinking today of whether a delusion can be a delusion if it is collectively held? Answers in the comments box if you can help me on that.

In reality what matters is the quality of how I say what I say and manage these conversations. That is my great skill. Whilst I downplay what I do I seem to have a track record of quickly working out those whom no one else could work out. So many I see have sought help before and been let down. I guess I pick up the pieces. Is that why people come back repeatedly and I got nominated for the award that wasn't?

One day if I can find the words maybe I will try to quantify what I do and write a 3rd book. But what of the judgement in today's post title? Well I leave that to others. I have decided the way forward when I come home is to ask myself the question did I do some good today? And for the last 2 days I have achieved that.

As an aside from my inane rambling I had an excellent lunch with incomparable Dory yesterday. Just a shame that I could not spend longer with her. I had to rush back to clear up yet more shit that had hit the fan. I don't know if I'm riding the crest of the large wave but it certainly hasn't sunk me yet!

I Heard a Voice.

Friday Carnage.

There is an old adage in mental health. Well actually there are 2 versions of said adage depending on which side of the fence one resides. The nutter's version says "it is only okay to have a crisis between 9 and 5 Monday to Friday. The workers versions says "crises always occur on the Friday afternoon". I reside on both sides although as I'm not currently deemed mad enough I do not get any support when I go into crisis. But that is an aside.

Yesterday was supposed to be quiet Friday of module planning and lunch with one of my former students. I did the former okay but the latter cancelled. As it transpires thank God he did. For yesterday afternoon all hell broke loose. 3 students went into crisis at the same time. Whilst many revere my talents I cannot do 3 at once. So I had to deal with the most serious.

Sadly the story she had to tell was far too close to my experience-cry for help and no one listens. And guess who had to to pick up the pieces? An hour and three quarters later I had averted disaster and avoided a lengthy a no doubt futile trip to A&E. Oh how the enemy still let me down. I'm having to follow up over the weekend but so be it. I was at my best yesterday. I could speculate how others might have dealt with it but I couldn't possibly put that on here.

Today I have been winding down and recuperating-I was tired. I shopped, had tea and lemon drizzle cake, and then to the ultimate wind down-the cooking.

Shortly there after I consumed some very nice Sri Lankan prawn curry. Pleased with that and have some left. Tomorrow I go back to my roots of pork, slow roasted to just melt under the knife and a fine bottle of rioja. Then it is back to the battle-I have 7 appointments booked for Monday, I'm not supposed to do more than 4. Perhaps the long expected tidal wave has finally broken.

I Heard a Voice.

Disappearing Viewers - a Mystery.

Something odd has been going on with my blog in the last couple of weeks. As I have mentioned before I can review views and other stats such as countries accessing it, the pages read most, and origins of traffic. Well I had notice the disappearance of viewers in recent weeks. Then the last 2 night my mood has been lifted by a spike in viewers last thing in the evening. Yet each morning the phantom viewers have disappeared. Not sure what that means. Theoretically numbers are way down on July and the dark times of March and April. But do I trust these figures? Or am I once again being deceived by technology.

Talking of technology, ever since I moved to the university I have kept all my records electronically. In fact no one uses files any more in the real world of mental health. My system suits what I need-I developed it after all-it is quick and easy. In fact I can access anyone I have records of who has seen me in the last 5 years with a few clicks of a mouse. If it ain't broke, don't fix it goes the old adage. Sadly no all see it that way.

There are exceptions who remain in the record keeping Dark Ages and they are therapists. You know, the people that surround me all day and earn far more money than me. Now in the interests of integration I am now being required to adopt a cumbersome and far more time consuming recording system on endless pieces of paper. Yes, I have to take data base information, put it on paper, and then it goes on another data base/ Mad or what?!!? I have no idea the purpose of this other than to further my increasing anonymity which grows daily. And that further loss of identity is doing nothing for my mood.

I spent almost all day on my computer in preparation and still got no where near the required pieces of paper. Hence it was not a good day.

Actually it has not been a good week. I came home from Kent to no heating or hot water. It wasn't fixed until yesterday afternoon and is at best precarious. I have to move, not sure I really want to go on living in this jinxed flat.

That said I cooked some very nice roast chicken, Rick Stein is on later and I have a beer open. It could be worse. I wonder if anyone will read this?

I Heard a Voice.

A Godsend?

Hi all,

This may well be my last post until next week-I'm away tomorrow and not sure how much time/accessibility I will have.

It has been dark, dank, and dreary here the last few days. Not what I needed first thing in the morning as I have to go back to my disillusioned life at work. I was unwell last week with a virus. Okay now but still have a cough and am tired. Yesterday was bad-Tuesday's usually are bad-and today did not start too well. Oh how we deal with deluded egos in our lives. I was of course accused of delusion for all those years but in the end I was proved right.

There was nearly one of my angry posts on here last night. But I hope today's is better. After a not so great start it got better. I met one of my most interesting and challenging students today for the first time since May. He acknowledged just how good I am at what I do. I am one of the few people he respects. That is all good. Later and separately I saw 2 members of staff I have helped in the past. Neither know each other yet both used the same word: To them I was a godsend at troubled times.

In my currently troubled world I needed that. It is completely over-blowing my role in their recoveries. Not long afterwards I spoke to the woman who investigated my pay appeal for the first time since it failed. She was cordial and polite as I was. The funny thing was she talked about the good retention rates of staff at the University. I wonder what she will say when I leave? And I very much hope I do soon. In reality she probably won't notice, I'm just not that important.

Tomorrow I catch the train to Kent. On Friday we are interring my mum's ashes. I have no idea what that will feel like but it will be nice to see dad and Miriam. Until the next time.

I Heard a Voice.

Medicinal Soup.

Since my last post it would appear that more and more people I know have had or do have this wretched virus. I remain achy, shivery, and exhausted. I had actually felt somewhat better last night but once the paracetamol had worn off all the symptoms came back. So I remain at home.

I'm not sure the origins of the medicinal purposes of soup are. Many cultures revere soup as a curative most notably in the Jewish community. Whilst I'm not up to making the dumplings for that I do have a very good chicken stock that I make the other day. Knowing the alleged reputation of soup I made from scratch a parsley soup out of the the book I mentioned last night. The result was stunning. Not sure if it has made me feel better but it was an enjoyable highlight in an otherwise wiped out and dreary day. I have some left so I can give a follow up dose tomorrow.

Here's to feeling better! Now time for some Renaissance music-the last recording I ever did at King's.

I Hard a Voice.

A Sweeping Virus.

A couple of weeks ago friends in Kent were talking of being felled by a mystery virus. Seems somewhat early for flu. Last week it had reached here-I called the Housing team at work on Thursday only to discover the whole team was off sick. Well on Monday night it came to me. I slept badly with all the shivers and aches in my spine-that kept me awake then came the nightmares. Now it has taken hold.

It is rare I take paracetamol but pharmacists always tell me that is the best way to keep the symptoms at bay. But now I'm taking it with some regularity. It helps but doesn't prevent the nightmares that always come to me when I am ill. I feel wiped out despite not going to work today. Mentally I'm hanging on so that is good. No real shift in mood one way or the other.

So it has been a day at home barring a brief foray into the cold world. Had to rest when I got in. I'm hungry now so I'm about to cook a beef noodle soup. It will be a Vietnamese-Chinese fusion with the former providing the noodles, beef, and herbs and the latter a fine stock.

Who know what tomorrow brings other than my plan to make a parsley soup with home made chicken stock courtesy of Rick Stein's Food Heroes book. Other than that I suspect it will be sleep and more paracetamol.

I Heard a Voice.

Only the Psychotic Can Know the Psychotic.

Over the past few weeks my life has been wracked with self doubt, volatile and generally low mood, and a once proud ego wavering into fragility. Life is not as awful as it can get -by no means am I back in the grip of my madness-but it has not been good. Even my work has felt as if I am a novice once again who really doesn't know what he is doing. Doubt is not something I experience often.

In the light of that I needed a sign that am still good at what I do in my maverick way. Yesterday that came. I rarely work with people with anxiety disorders-I usually pass them onto others. But what of those who have been there already? So I was presented with a young woman with startling eyes so anxious she barely went out who had been failed before. For an hour we spoke and I thought I too had failed. Yet no, we had the first breakthrough of her battle. No one was as surprised as I was. She will be back.

Later I was at my best. How can someone who has never been psychotic understand the world of psychosis? The answer is not at all or in a very limited way. But I understand. I spent an intense hour unpicking the psychotic delusions of an as yet undiagnosed bipolar girl whose life is going into post mania free-fall. I knew and she realised that for the first time she was understood. Is that priceless? That is for her to decide.

I needed that boost to my flagging self doubt. I do know what I'm doing. Sadly it did not carry into today and I'm in nowhere land again. And so to cooking. I'm braising shin of beef which I will chill and dress with a Sichuan dressing. That is for my friends in the pub. I will stir fry some pork tonight then curry on Monday. Oh and I had a snack of Jarlsberg cheese, Iberico jamon, and grapes-it was very good.

Now it is time for tea-finally managed to get some loose Twinings Darjeeling, thank goodness for Sainsburys.

I Heard a Voice.

Getting Busy.

As I was thinking about writing a post today it struck me that the day on which I most often blog is Sunday. But this Sunday I didn't. A failing of mine is that I don't often look back at previous post so tend to repeat myself. Sadly I'm guilty of that in both my books. It is whole week since I have been on here but looking back my recent posts have included a number during the week. There is but one reason for this-I have been curiously quiet at work.

The tidal wave of misery that I suspected would break over me 3 weeks ago did not come. But today the waters got distinctly choppier. It was busy-9 referrals in 2 days. I can cope but I sometimes feel I don't want to. What is the point? What do I get out of it? The satisfaction of those rare people who consider me some sort of genius in my field? I am certainly not that. But I do seem to help some beyond measure.

Away from the important part-in case anyone forgot that is the students-I have got through my appraisal and sat through another 1 1/2 hours of navel gazing that we engage in on a Tuesday afternoon. Delving back into the archives on here you will recall I detest appraisals. And that is when the times are good. I was dreading it in light of recent event. In reality we hovered around each other in a terrible polite English way (actually she is not English) and avoided the raging shouting match that maybe we both feared. So it is done for another year. I sincerely hope I don't have to go through another one there.

And the world of jobs? Well contrary to what you may have been led to believe there are scores of jobs out there. Unfortunately they fit into 2 categories:

1. I can't afford to take them
2. I wouldn't even be invited to meet them as I'm not part of the social work/mental health nursing mafia

But I do have connections and when time permits I will put out feelers. In the mean time it is quite simple, I go to work, I come home from work, and it is just a job. Now that is a radical change for me.

I Heard a Voice

A Fennel Famine.

There is something marvellous about fennel. In both seed and bulb form it is one of my favourite ingredients. It goes particularly well with pork and every time I buy my favoured cut of the pig I always buy fennel to go with it. Actually I have 2 cuts of pig I love, shoulder and belly; fennel goes with both. I have been hunting for a fennel bulb since Saturday but alas there is none to be found in my corner of Hertfordshire.

I'm not too good with seasonal produce. That is especially true at this time of year with turnips, swedes, squashes and parsnips not in my life-can't stand them actually. I don't know the fennel season but given what is available in supermarkets even of dubious quality, I'm amazed I can't find any. I will have to think of another way to use my left over shoulder.

It has not made me too downcast, I am downcast already. My stuckness and disillusionment goes on with nothing on the horizon. I feel depressed but not ill. There was one bright spot today when I met a former student who rested last year who has returned. It was a revelation to see such a young man turn his life around in a year after a very deep depression. None of that was down to me but it proves if you find the right person-and he did-many things can happen.

2 days to go until the weekend and precious sleep. In between I get to see my beloved Rams live on Thursday night. Not strictly true as I will be in bed and having to record it. Yet it is so nice to have chance to see them after not a single televised game accessible for me last season.

More soon.

I Heard a Voice.

At the Mid Life Crossroad.

There is an all pervading smell of pork slow roasting coming from the direction of my kitchen. And very fine it is too. The potatoes have just gone in and I'm expecting my friend Richard to arrive at 2 pm with some rioja. The Marriage of Figaro is accompanying this quiet Sunday afternoon. I guess no different from the many Sunday afternoon posts I have put in the last 2 years.

Yet today feels different. I find myself at a crossroads and I have no idea where to turn. My friend Katherine came to visit yesterday from London. We had a very good day but the best bit was spending time with someone who in no way is connected to Hertfordshire or the university. A fresh perspective but still no answers. Maybe something will come up but when? She made the interesting point of who do I talk to? I'm apparently very good at guiding others through the maze of mental illness but no one is there to guide me.

For the first time I have found myself not wanting to go work in recent weeks. More alarming is that the manic energy and mood lift that comes from the new academic year is not there now. I wonder how I will cope with the rigours of the coming weeks.

There was a plus point to last week when I did my annual lecture to the 2nd year social work students. Apparently they all thought I was inspirational. Unfortunately inspirational does not get me out of the stuck hole that seems to be engulfing me. There has to be a change but I'm buggered if I know what from and what to. Fate is in the hands of others as yet unknown to me.

But that is tomorrow, I will sate myself today with pork, rioja, good company, 2 hours of Rick stein at 3 pm, and then a night of American Football.

I Heard a Voice.

The Great Witchhunt!

In the summer of 2007 the UK government ignored all the "consultation" and banned smoking in all enclosed public spaces. At a stroke smokers like me became the great pariahs of the 21st century and the witchhunt was on. In reality the ban went much further than that. It is illegal to smoke even in the open air on railway stations. Hospitals ban smoking even in the grounds although at my local hospital that is roundly ignored by everyone. A year later than banned smoking in psychiatric hospitals-utter madness. If there is one thing that keeps the peace in such places it is chain smoking-there is little else to do.

I don't really mind smoking outdoors; even if it is raining. But there is the issue of one's own home. For those who follow the news there is also a housing crisis in the UK. I would have no hope of getting social or what some call "affordable" housing. I cannot afford to buy as I don't have a large deposit to put on a flat. So I have to accept whatever I can afford. In reality for me I am paying way over the odds, have no security, a landlord who takes my money but expects me to pay for all repairs, and an MP who would make me homeless if he had his way. And of course no one will accept a smoker.

Given my precarious circumstances I am toying with the idea of moving. But moving costs money and that means more debt. Not to be put off, I responded to an e mail about a flat last week. I admitted that I smoke but was quite happy to smoke outside. The response was a polite fuck off. What chance therefore do I have?

Away my meagre home I have already been engulfed by the whirlwind that is the new academic year. Day 1 and I was with a student having a psychiatric assessment at said same local hospital. As ever when the shit hit the fan they turned to me. But this time I was powerless. I cannot help anyone who barely speaks English and what he did say was totally unintelligible.

What on earth possesses 1000s of young men and women to pay £10,000 per year to travel half way round the world to a culture they will never understand and a language they cannot speak? The answer is work permits. Even those that succeed in their studies rarely find work. If they do it is at the minimum wage and their housing situations are usually worse than mine. The streets are not paved with gold!

There have been few redeeming features to today. I am exhausted already and at a low ebb. Let's hope tomorrow is better.

I Heard a Voice.

Cider Country.

My mum was from Somerset. For those who are looking at this from foreign lands that is a county in the west of England. The west if famous for its production of cider and Somerset is no exception. Normandy has a similar passion for cider. Now I'm not a great fan of drinking it but it is very good for cooking. And so faced today, a day away from work, with what to do with some chicken thighs I turned to Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall and decided to have a second attempt at his chicken and mushroom casserole in cider. First time was okay but not great, hope today is better. It certainly smells good.

So what of this week? Well it was back to work but only for 2 days. As you may recall from my last post I wasn't really looking forward to it but it went well. Yesterday I was teaching. As you know I'm afraid of technology but I did prepare a powerpoint for the occasion. Problem is, no one told me to bring a lap top. With no notes at all I ad libbed for an hour. Judging by the huge round of applause it was a triumph. Quite ironic considering they would not even interview me for a post to do just that all the time. Even more ironic, yesterday I had another request from them to teach in November. The world can be peculiar sometimes.

Tomorrow I'm off to London for Beka's exhibition. Added bonus is I get to see the splendid Katie whom I've not seen since March. Hopefully meet others too.

Friday I'm off again so it is long weekend for me. Then the whirlwind will engulf me from Monday. Let's hope my mood holds.

I Heard a Voice.

Tudor Spice.

If I believe the history books-and I have no particular reason not to-Tudor England was probably a dirty, noisy, smelly, and paranoid place. Not a place for the poor with all the disease and an uncertain place for the rich. A time of spies and intrigue, beheadings and religious divisions. I'm not sure I would have liked to live in those times. Yet there is something magical about the Tudors, their food. We call them English spices now although of course most came from Southeast Asia. Cinnamon, mace, nutmeg, and cloves. All wonderful. They also had a passion for mixing fruit with meat. Not my favourite things although my goose with roasted pears last Christmas was a triumph.

Well it is not Christmas now. Nor am I using fruit. Yet there is divine smell of that English spice cloves. That's right my ham in the oven is studded with cloves and perfuming my small flat as I face another quiet Sunday.

I don't really feel anything today. Not good, not bad just nothing. It is not the terrible emptiness I experienced back in the winter when I had my relapse. I'm just detached. I have no desire to go to work tomorrow after the events of last week. Fortunately I'm only in 2 days next week. But the week after the whirlwind will take over my life until April. Can I survive that onslaught as I have before? Probably but I'm not sure I want to. My motivation and belief is low and I want a new start. Who knows if or when that will come.

Think I might listen to some Offenbach after lunch. Here's to lunch lifting my mood. If not I must rely on watching my beloved St Louis Rams play on TV tonight-not seen that for nearly 2 years.

I Heard a Voice.

A Topsy Turvy Day.

The eminent psychiatrist Bernie Rosen once told me that depressed people never get angry. Bullshit. It was alleged at the time that he was also psychiatrist to Princess Diana. Well he didn't help me very much nor on the surface her either. I won't say what I really think of him but it is not very good. When I left his clinic he wrote a report on me that a later consultant described as "the most contradictory and offensive report I have ever seen."

So why am I saying this now? Well you will have seen from my last post I have been pretty angry. I have also felt very low, bewildered, and confused. All of those were at the same time. But given what has happened to me it is no surprise.

Yet today I feel neither depressed nor angry. I'm still a bit confused and at a loss as to what to do next but am okay. It is a topsy turvy day. There is blazing sunshine outside yet it is September. Actually I rather like days like this. I have confused my contact lenses so I can't see properly-must had more than I thought last night. I slept for 11 hours yet am still tired. I must have been tired and the lack of sleep in the last 2 weeks has caught up with me. And having not gone to a single BBQ all summer I am just off to help Tony at the pub with a BBQ.

So I appear away from where I was 2 days ago. Yes I still need to move on but I'm dealing with it better. I had hoped to roast shoulder of pork tomorrow but I couldn't get any. So it is roast ham-I'm very partial to ham. Have 3 days off next week and I will see Beka on Thursday then it is off to meet David one of my old tutors from Cambridge on Saturday. Let's hope this oasis of calm stays.

I Heard a Voice.

Mind Blowing.

Today started very well and then well and truly fucked up. I have been left trying to get my head round the idea that I get head-hunted and then I don't even make the short-list for the job!??! That is what happened to me today. It's tempting to tell the world to fuck off and just go home. But where is and what is home? Now therein lies an interesting question.

I posted a few weeks ago that God moved in mysterious ways. By God he fucking does! I have spent the last 22 years in the world of the mad but this might be the maddest thing ever. People may say wonderful things about my work and my books but sadly that doesn't pay the considerable bills living here.

Now there is an angry post. Hopefully next time I on here I won't be so furious!

I Heard a Voice.

Summer's End.

Well, despite the splendid weather outside summer has once again come to an end. My holiday will be over tomorrow and I will wait with baited breath for news on the jobs I have applied for. Today is the closing date for the one that might keep me in Hertfordshire-I should know something towards the end of this week.

It has been a strange holiday marred by a lack of sleep which has left me very tired. It was good to get to Kent and all the nice country pubs I have visited since my return. But as ever holidays are all too short. Not quite sure what I feel about going back tomorrow-it feels like time to call it a day on the last 5 years.

Today has been my usual quiet Sunday. I was very extravagant with roast duck and rioja for lunch. I have had a festival of Mozart encompassing the D Minor Mass, the Coronation Mass, and the Requiem. Seems a lot but I never tire of hearing Mozart. Beginning to think about tea now. Have some Rick Stein to watch at 4 pm and then an evening of ethnic football as week 1 of the new NFL season continues. I will get to see 4 games this week.

Here's to hoping my mood holds whatever the outcome of the next few weeks. More soon.

I Heard a Voice.

In the Shadows of History.

Yesterday I took a trip down memory lane. I visited Borough Market for the first time in over a year. It was very hot and humid and sadly many of the stall were not open-reminder next time not to go on a Tuesday. Actually I went on that day as Beka had suggested we meet and go to an art exhibition afterwards. As I anticipated not getting back until the evening I didn't buy anything other than lunch and a cold drink-not sure fresh produce would have survived in the heat and humidity of an Indian Summer on London.

Having done the market I retired to a tried and tested pub. Had a couple of wonderful pints of Tribute in the St Christopher's Inn. It is a place I knew well in the its former guise as the Grapes. The Grapes lies in the shadow of the hospital I spent 4 months in in 1994. As I sat there I recalled all the names of those who had been there with me-I wondered who got better, who didn't, and sadly, the inevitable deaths. That is the way in the dark world of madness. That place will forever stick in my memory.

I had a very bad night of nightmares and got up far too early. The sleeping is not going well on this holiday. The plan today was to go to St Alban's but recalling the heat of yesterday the thought of spending 2 hours on a hot bus did not appeal so I changed plans. Did some shopping and had a fry up instead. So tonight it is a lamb, potato, broad bean and pea tagine with mint from a book dad gave me for my birthday.

And now I think an afternoon of Mozart and reading is on the cards.

I Heard a Voice.

Five Years.

The first song on David Bowie's apocalyptic album Ziggy Stardust is called Five Years. It appears to predict the end of the world. It was the second of a trio of astonishing albums in 1972 and 1973 preceded by Hunky Dory and followed by Aladdin Sane. No one makes 3 classic albums of 18 months now. But then again no one these days has such talent. So other than my love of David Bowie's music why am I mentioning that today? Well it is 5 years to the day since I completely uprooted my life in Kent and moved to Hertfordshire.

Today I repeated that journey in rather quicker time. I have been with my dad since Wednesday. Had some fun, lot's of birthday presents, good food and  good friends despite the rather strange propositions I had whilst there. We went for Sunday lunch of exquisitely rare beef at the Castle Hotel http://www.castlehotel-saltwood.co.uk/ , then a race up the motorway. And continuing the theme of deja vu I went to the Fu Hao for dinner. They were my first friends I met in WGC.

I have another week off before the mayhem and hopefully change of September. Forgive my lack of contact recently-dad has had real trouble with his computer. But I'm back now and I'm hoping over the coming weeks my readers will return-the numbers took a dip last month. I still haven't worked out why the stats vary so much for no reason.

I Heard a Voice.

Things to Do on a Bank Holiday Monday.

Life is strange. So many of us live for the weekend. We all look forward to the Bank Holiday weekends as there is no work on Monday. Much as I love them I do find them somewhat boring.

So I awoke late this morning with somewhat low mood, tired, and having lived through a particularly bad night, but above all else wondering what to do. Well there is a great mark of UK culture that is rarely replicated anywhere-the country pub.

Thus we set off this afternoon in my friend's car for a drive in the country. We arrived as a small country pub called the "Horns" http://www.thehornsdatchworth.co.uk/ . I did go once before. But what revelation. Inferno beer from the Oakham brewery, a fine atmosphere, and the smell of marvellous food. We did not eat but plan to try it some time.

Felt slightly pissed even though I only had 2 pints-real ale gets me far more than lager. It was then a quiet afternoon of Earl Grey tea and toast. This evening a griddled pork chop marinaded in shallot's, galangal, garlic, coriander, soy, and fish sauce. It featured in the Sunday Times yesterday-truly stunning.

And what is store for the rest of my holiday? Heading for Kent on Wednesday, back on Sunday. Who knows what I will do then. I just hope my mood is somewhat less volatile than it has been today. More soon.

I Heard a Voice.

A Deal is Struck!

As of today I have a signed contract to publish "Charon's Ferry"! Not sure when it will be out but I will of course put it up on here when it is.

Also today my latest guest blog for Time to Change came out. It is heavily edited as they couldn't handle the truth-too controversial. Do read, pass on, comment of FB or indeed sign the Time to Change pledge etc. Link is below:

http://www.time-to-change.org.uk/blog/discrimination-by-diagnosis-personality-disorder

Best news though is that I'm on holiday. Had ribs to celebrate and plan to do as much sleeping as possible over the next 2 week.

I Heard a Voice.

The Value of Thrift.

There is a chapter late in Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall's book "Meat" on thrift. In that chapter is a most excellent recipe for Shepherd's pie. As some of you may recall I have bemoaned the lack of food culture in England before, are we only known for fried breakfasts, roast dinner, fine pies, and sticky steamed puddings? Actually we have a rich history of food but sadly much of it is forgotten and known only to historians of food. Were I studying history today as I did 25 years ago in Cambridge, I would probably have researched various culinary histories. Oh to have our lives over again!

Anyway, I cooked today for the first time all week. Actually I was cooking in preparation for tomorrow and have made what looks and smells like a fine Shepherd's pie. And I shredded my leftover roast lamb to make it. Therein lies thrift. My mum with her poor humble origins would heartily have approved. Actually she would have cooked it better than me.

As you may have gathered from my lack of cooking it has not been my best week. Monday was a high after submitting my book. Yesterday I went into freefall. I'm sure staring at a screen for 11 hours without a break contributed to the headache that forced a rare venture into paracetamol last night. Worse though I was exhausted, depressed, and feeling a complete failure. All I could think of was what will I do if my book is rejected and I get none of the jobs I have applied for. I could be in the same boat as I am now in a month's time.

Yesterday was boring. Today less so. I had 2 no shows, a cancellation and a bullshitter to deal with today. But I did some reading and spent some time on Linkedin. That was useful. I found an old friend Becky who featured heavily in "A Pillar of Impotence". She was there when I met Rachel and when my life fell apart she was so kind to me. I was not always so kind to her but we do crazy things when we are crazy. I couldn't e mail her but tried to connect with her. Who knows if she will respond-perhaps she wants to forget me.

But I did get a response from another old friend. Lucy was 15 when I met her. She was the daughter of my GP and I never really lost touch. It is just sporadic. She is now 29 and recently had a baby girl Isabelle. How time changes. Anyway, she has just sent her first short story off to an agent. I really hope she has more luck than I did.

I will sign off now as the chill of autumn creeps in at night. Let's hope it is an autumn of change for me. It has been a tough year.

I Heard a Voice.

All Guns Blazing!

Finally a performance by the England cricket team that they can be proud of. It has been a poor series this summer and South Africa thoroughly deserve to be ranked number 1-they played better cricket than us. But what a way to go down fighting today. 45 for 4  and end up just 51 short chasing what would have been an England record in the 4th innings. So ends my summer of cricket-I have no interest in 1 day matches. Now I must prepare myself for the NFL in 3 weeks time.

Closer to home I went to a milestone today. Almost exactly a year after starting to write "Charon's Ferry" today I finally submitted it to the publisher. So keep keeping everything crossed for me on the job and book front.

We are witnessing the final hurrah of summer here in the UK. God it was hot yesterday. Yet in 2 weeks September will be upon us. I turn 43 just before then. Hope you all enjoy the rest of the summer.

I Heard a Voice.

Something Different.

Today has been different to the norm. I had a visitor from a neighbouring university down for the day. She went into the equivalent job to time a year before I started. When I was appointed in 2007, going to visit Jill was one of the first ports of call.

Our jobs can be very lonely. We do difficult stuff sometimes and we mainly work alone. Where I am it is a department of 11 counsellors, an administrator and me. In Jill's place she too is alone. We are part of a network of mental health advisors called UMHAN. We meet 3 times a year which is very helpful but rarely see each other more than that. In most places they have a mental health advisor and a lot of counsellors. What is the difference? Good question. Well I have 3 answers:

1. They get paid a hell of a lot more than me-hence my long running battle.
2. They are virtually in therapy all the time they work-my supervision is not about therapy.
3. I talk back!

A student from Malaysia came to visit me recently at the suggestion of her friend who I see from time to time. I was aware she had seen a counsellor before so I asked her why she didn't go back there. "I wanted some advice" was the answer. I have no idea why but people think I give good advice.

I enjoyed today. Whether we meet again in this context only time will tell. With luck in a couple of months I will have a different job.

The other good news is that my second editor Colin has now finished "Charon's Ferry". I will work my way through his suggestions in the next few days. Then, and it has been a long time coming I will send it to my publisher.

For now I sit contented after making Moroccan chicken kebabs-there are some left for tomorrow-drink a beer and listen to David Bowie on my very temperamental CD player. I guess that will have to be my next purchase.

I Heard a Voice.

A Festival of Pork.

It is very hard to make a true judgement on this last week. Life has been very up and down but appears to be looking up. The one constant over the last 7 days is food. I have been out far more than normal.

Last Sunday I had lunch with my dad, Beka, her mum Anne, and my old friend Heather. There is a very nice pub deep in the Kent country side in the village of Stowting called the Tiger-http://www.tigerinn.co.uk/ . Well worth a visit although I did have the most disgusting meal of my life there a number of years ago-it has changed hands since then. Good beer too. Looking at the menu my thoughts as ever turned to my beloved belly pork. Anne however commented that " I bet it is not as good as yours". Recalling my last visit she was right. I settled for shoulder of lamb and it was very fine. The thought of belly remained though.

Monday was truly awful but in response to my unexpected job windfall on Wednesday I went to the Fu Hao. Ribs and roast pork were the order of the day.

On Thursday I ate with colleagues in Chiquitos-not what I would have chosen but the Texas Chilli Dog was better than expected. And yesterday I had lunch with the excellent Dory on a beautiful sunny afternoon. That took a rare turn when I ordered smoked mackerel. I don't eat fish often but I do like smoked mackerel. Never had it hot though.

And so to the weekend. Having made what looks like an excellent chicken stock I thought of doing the Ants Climbing the Tree but sadly there was no sign of minced pork anywhere. But I did find belly. So it is Thai Belly Pork with Five Spice, coriander and eggs all braised in chicken stock with nam pla, soy, and palm sugar tonight and slow roast belly with rosemary and thyme tomorrow. I have an excellent wine for tomorrow too that Dory gave me. It is always worth celebrating pork-a true festival.

I applied for a new job today and will apply for another when it is advertised on Tuesday. I can feel change in the air-keep everything crossed for me.

Bye for now.

I Heard a Voice.

A Smile From On High.

Today did not go as I expected. Those of you who have delved into all the 150+ posts I have put up since I started this blog almost exactly 2 years ago may recall my disdain for the annual appraisal. Dig back in the archives and you will find it early on. Probably in the same month-I haven't checked-you may also recall a rather cryptic message about God moving in a mysterious way. Still sounds cryptic? Well read on.

It was supposed to be the dreaded appraisal day today but fate intervened. The post from earlier this week was a very sanitised version of how I was feeling. This week has been truly shit and I have felt utterly betrayed. I e mailed a few friends about the appalling outcome of my appeal. When I got back to my office there was a response offering to meet for coffee and a "natter". It was from the same man who made me feel that the divine is most mysterious.

I can't yet go into the details but what we had hoped might happen 2 years ago is finally coming to fruition. It is not a done deal but in about 6 weeks time I may know more about my future.

This intervention divine or otherwise truly lifted my mood and self belief. The bonus was that my appraisal was postponed too. That may or may not happen in a couple of months time, but that depends on the outcome.

I called my dad to tell him the news. He told me God wasn't moving in a mysterious way but rather that he had been praying for me. Perhaps he is right.

I Heard a Voice.

PS And no doubt Dory you will be grilling me on Friday!

PPS I'm off to the Fu Hao to celebrate a good day!

Condemned.

I had very much hoped to put up a nice post tonight. Indeed I did have a nice few days away from Hertfordshire and hoped to brighten up people's lives with that. Sadly though it was not be.

I got to work today to find a terribly formal letter waiting for me. Unusually I opened it quickly and it was the news that I expected. My pay appeal was completely dismissed out of hand. You may recall that I posted of a sense of resignation a couple of weeks ago. Well that is initially cushioning the blow. What was most hard is that the letter made me out to be a liar. It is so nice to get backing from people. But it wasn't to be.

So I will be leaving as soon as I can. Of course that may take a while, I can only take a job I can afford to take. That is if anyone bothers to take me seriously. I have a identified a suitably job. Problem is it is in Leeds-that is a place I have no desire to live in. That said the beer is cheap and no doubt rental prices are probably half what they are here. But I have to get an interview first. My life once again in the hands of others.

There is no good news today so I will leave it there.

I Heard a Voice.

An Ending.

Thus endeth July. It has been record setting month for my blog. I have had almost a 100 more visitors this month than I've ever had before. I have put up more posts than ever before although I'm not sure if I have had more to say. It also marks the end of my academic year. This is my 5th, I find that hard to believe. When I moved I was hanging on to last vestiges of my 30s. I am now middle aged, have less hair and it is greying and I'm approaching my first birthday without my mum. It has been a most peculiar year.

For some I have changed their lives. Those who thought they would never get better until they met me. Sometimes at my best I have that power. Equally though there are those who met who walked away firmly believing I am full of shit. Fortunately the former usually outnumber the latter.

The price of cherries is rapidly rising and the oh so short lives of the beautiful dragonflies will soon be over. Are we going headlong towards autumn?

Today was a day of endings and moving on. I had a very nice lunch with a friend. I even loosened the shackles on my austerity measures and got £280 worth of clothes for £45-can anyone justify a rrp of £230 for a rugby shirt? I got a bargain for £25. I didn't cook today as I'm going away in a few days. I resorted to sausage and chips from the chip shop-why are their portions of chips so large? I then got my fix of Rick Stein eating octopus in Galicia. I have never been to Galicia but have eaten octopus many times. I used to frequent a small tapas restaurant in Canterbury where I used to drink cruzcampo beer and eat baby octopus. I took my friend Tom there once but he couldn't even look at the octopus let alone eat it.

Tomorrow I get down to sorting my stats for the year. On Thursday I am travelling to London to meet an old school friend I have not seen in 30 years. His life too has been blighted by mental illness so I guess we have a lot in common. Then on Friday I go to Kent to see my dad and go to 2 parties. Not something I do often now but if any of you get to read the new book when it comes out you will realise I was once a party animal.

What will next year bring? I don't know. In a month no doubt I will know the answer to whether I stay or go-I'm still waiting on the pay dispute. If I stay no doubt I will meet interesting people. And for some of those I will change their lives. So life goes on one way or another.

I Heard a Voice.

To Friends in the USA.

Hi all, a particular greeting today to my friends from across the water. I'm not sure why but there has been a huge upswing in views from the USA in the last couple of days. Welcome.

As you will have seen on here I wrote a book that came out last year. It is available in the US if any of you are interested:

http://www.amazon.com/A-Pillar-Impotence-Mark-Edgar/dp/1849913951/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1343641866&sr=8-1&keywords=A+Pillar+of+impotence

You may also have noticed my passion for a American football. I'm avidly mointoring the web for news of training camps and cannot believe that my beloved St Louis Rams can possibly be as bad as they were last year!

I Heard a Voice.

Another Step Forward.

It's another Sunday. I roasted a chicken and had a guest round for lunch. I do like cooking for others but sadly my small flat is hard to accommodate any more than one other person. It came out very well and we enjoyed a nice and reasonably priced Spanish white. I'm not normally a fan of white wine but I couldn't really have red wine with chicken-that would be too uncouth. Tonight it is leftovers.

Yet the main news today came away from the kitchen. I finally got a text from my friend Katherine to say that she has made it through proofing my book. Just a few adjustments to make then it will come back to me. E mail can be very useful sometimes.

After I have changed things following her suggestions it will go to another reader. He is a colleague at the university and thinks he can do it in 2 weeks at this quiet time of the year. I'm really hoping to submit it for publication before the end of the summer. Then it is down to the publisher.

And to the rest of the day? Avoid the showers and try to find something other than the Olympics to watch. Perhaps I will look at recent recordings.

I Heard a Voice.

The Waiting Room.

Well another week over. What a way to end it with such spectacular opening to the London Olympics! My friends Isobel and Hugh were there and I know a few people who went to the technical rehearsal. From what they all said TV got nowhere near capturing the full glory. And so today to competition.

Today's the morning after. I slept well-only one night time wake up-and am now contemplating my cooking extravaganza later. I will be doing a slow roast lamb shoulder from Extramadura in Spain, La Caldereta. Flavoured with thyme, bay, fennel, rosemary, garlic and wine it looks like a winner. Then tomorrow I will roast a corn fed free range chicken.

Some of you are no doubt wondering if the jury of 2 weeks ago has delivered its verdict. Sadly the answer is no. I do know there has been some movement and the Deputy Head of HR and the Registrar have to meet again. What I don't know is if that is good or bad. We will see.

Mood is good today, the sun is out and I'm looking forward to quiet peaceful weekend. Hope everyone else is too.

I Heard a Voice.

PS Katherine has nearly finished proofing "Charon's Ferry", we are getting closer to submission.

The Cycle of Life.

It has been a glorious day today in Hertfordshire. Several times during breaks today I sat by the lake next to my office. It is perfectly clear at this time of year and ostensibly still. But looking closer there were scores of small ripples on the surface as the sun glinted off the water. It was alive with dragonflies. That is one of my favourite sights of the summer. Yet it is but a short time before they go.

Today made me think about the cycle of life. That of the dragonfly must be short being that I see them for barely a few weeks when the sun is at its most glorious in July. That along with the cherries. Dragonflies like all living organisms are designed to do only two things: to survive and to reproduce. That is all they are there for.

So why this comment on a blog devoted to madness? The link of course survival. We do not know why the mental ill have such high suicide rates. Some might say 20%. Yet isn't that the ultimate madness? We are designed to survive yet some choose not to. I know all about that and it is one of my greatest strengths as practitioner. I know because I was there.

When I worked for CMHT they kept banging on about boundaries and what was appropriate. What bullshit. When the shit hit the fan and people were wanting to die they called me in. I guess I had a purpose for them. I did of course blog in March on the tragic loss of one of my students. It goes with the territory however good we are at what we do.

But back to the summer. So nice that it has arrived in time for the Olympics. Let's hope it stays.

I Heard a Voice.

PS Just talked to my dad, he seems to think it is an excellent idea to have goose at Christmas!

A Different Sunday.

Regular readers will recall that most Sundays I have a quiet day listening to Mozart, Handel, or Haydn and reading. But today has been different.

As it is the cricket season I would normally have the test match on in the background and read. But after England's disastrous performance yesterday I fancied a change. So was the my flat rang out to the voices and words of David Bowie, Bob Marley, and Nina Simone. Music having just finished, dare I look at the cricket?

It is nearly time for tea as my shoulder of pork slow roasts in the oven emitting a wonderful smell that can only be Sunday. I think I must call my dad later, not spoken for a while. Tomorrow I go back to quietness of my summer work. I have a leaving lunch to go to but that is about it. Then on Tuesday more goodbyes to students. Sometimes the summer is so hard in that respect.

I Heard a Voice.

Living With Uncertainty.

Yesterday I was talking to one of my bipolar students. His tutor tells me he is a once in a generation student. I am well aware of his brilliance. However, bipolar has cost him almost all of this year. He is talking of walking away. But that would let bipolar win. Can we ever let our illnesses win?

Well I did for years. I'm much more in control now but there is forever that fear. The fear it will come back. I tcomes of all of us with a mood disorder. Him and me. I think by the end I had talked him out of leaving.

But what of me? It has been a week of erratic mood swings. Days where for no reason I feel low. Days of no energy and others of being fine. It is hard to live with uncertainty. That is my life though, forever living with a brain that cannot control my mood properly.

I feel somewhat better today and less tired. I slept okay for nearly 10 hours with a couple of dream interruptions-nothing bad though. Not done much beside watch the cricket; that is not going well. I have just made a cottage pie to put in the oven later and will return to that old staple of mine slow roast shoulder of pork tomorrow. Even bought some fennel to roast with it. If you have never tried fennel with pork give it a go, it is wonderful.

Now I think it is time for Darjeeling tea.

I Heard a Voice.

PS This is post number 150-can't believe I have had that much to say in the last couple of years!

An English Breakfast.

The English writer Somerset Maugham once said that "to eat well in England a man must eat breakfast 3 times a day". It is true that the English breakfast is most fine. I'm not sure of the exact quote as I lifted it from one of Rick Stein's programmes. Perhaps Maugham's comment does our culture a disservice but he had a point. It is one of our finest efforts although not very good for us.

I don't eat breakfast, let alone a fry up in the morning. All I can stomach is strong black coffee. I love fried breakfasts but usually for brunch. For all my culinary adventures I do return to the staples of bacon, eggs and whatever comes to hand.

Tonight that was all I had. But to make it extra special as I cooked it in goose fat. I get few readers from France but one of its greatest export comes from the use of good fat in Gascony. Cue red wine which is rumoured to be the reason heart disease rates there are the lowest in Europe. Today was the last of my goose fat.

Which reminds me, I wonder if I can persuade my dad to get a goose for Christmas? Not even sure of my plans yet but I would certainly like to try to replicate last year's glorious lunch.

Today has been a better day. The sun has come out and despite being shattered when I got up I have had more energy. It is relief from yesterday when a strange listlessness came over me in the evening and my mood slumped. I was telling my friend Karen today that there is distinction between depression and a depressive illness. Perhaps the most frustrating feelings of living with a life time mood disorder is that it can come back any time. I had no reason to have mood swing last night, it just happened.

Great to see so many readers this months, I think I am headed for my all time record month for views. Nice too to see my friend Zoe on here-she has been blogging far longer and more popularly than me for a long time. Welcome Zoe.

I Heard a Voice.

Country Pubs and Yorkshire Puddings.

It is a Sunday, the day I like to listen to music, read and cook a fine roast dinner. Well I listened to Handel's Saul, the recording I spent 5 days watching but was not allowed to sing in in the summer of 1979-believe me, all you would be music stars, recording in the main long, boring and tedious. I read the Sunday Times and generally had a quiet day. The beef is out coming up to room temperature and going in the oven about 6 pm. Yet today has been different.

Different in 2 ways. Firstly I went to country pub for a pint of IPA and very good it was too. It was something I used to do regularly but with my austerity measures still very much in place something I have not done for a while. If you are ever in Hertfordshire take some time to head for Tewin and go to the Rose and Crown.

When I got back I had tea then did what I had been dreading all day. Yes for the first time in my life I have made a Yorkshire pudding batter. I love Yorkshire puddings although being a purest I heartily disapprove of people eating them with anything other than roast beef. It is an area I pubs let us down on but it seems to be fashionable. The batter looks good but I'm not sure how it will turn out. I very much hope I have seasoned it better than I did with yesterdays tagine-that was most disappointing.

After I have consumed copious quantities of very rare beef-sorry I buggered it up last time I was down dad-I think I might watch a film. Tomorrow I have dubious pleasure of having decorators round-why do these people think you can drop everything to accommodate them? I wonder what next week will bring?

I Heard a Voice.

The Jury is Out.

Well hello to you all. Yes I say all as numbers have been rocketing again. It seems particularly popular in Russia and the USA at the moment. I wonder what that says about the world?

Apologies to those of you who expected me to blog on Thursday. I was actually too tired. As for the result of my epic life changing meeting? Thus far not outcome. That said they did listen, the took on board the unique nature of my job, the dangers and the tough decisions I sometimes have to make. It went well as far I could see. They will now go away and try to form some sort of data entry to their rather bizarre system. They were vague on time scale but I hope to know in 2 weeks.

I came home very tired. That tiredness continued yesterday and I was in bed by midnight which is unheard of for me. It was a mixed day. I was glad to have got through the meeting but had to say goodbye to one of regulars-and yes I know you will be reading this. It was her choice and I intend as I do with many of my students to stay in touch. Very kindly she gave me flowers and a lovely card. I'm not very good with plants but I hope they will last the 7 days promised on the packaging. She also raved about what I had done for her. That is always strange for me. I live in a strange work duality of knowing I am up there with the best but also knowing and feeling a complete failure when I don't get it right. The remnants of an NPD? Maybe. Like all of you out there I have traits of personality disorder but that is not my illness.

I woke up too early for my liking today but did feel uplifted. It is a quiet day for me. I shopped-lamb shanks for a tagine with peas and tomatoes tonight and beef for a rare roast tomorrow. I am going to try for the first time in my life to make Yorkshire puddings-wish me luck.

Back home I have cleaned and am doing the washing-boring stuff I know. I'm quite glad on cleaning days when it is humid that my flat is small-I think I would lose half a stone in weight hoovering a big house. A big house, something I doubt I will ever have. But if I do it will have one essential element-a massive kitchen.

Now i will settle back with Ziggy Stardust and a spot of Hemingway-a truly quiet Saturday.

I Heard a Voice.

PS If you are interested in the tagine get the Moro series of cookbook:

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Casa-Moro-Samuel-Clark/dp/0091938538/ref=sr_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1342273430&sr=1-2

How Will the Fates Conspire?

The Clash wrote a song in the late 1970s (I think) called "Should I Stay or Should I Go?" From what I recall it is about a relationship. But it implies there is a choice that is in the hands of the singer. Neither option is palatable but at least there is a choice.

Sometimes in life we do not control over our choices. By this time tomorrow I will know whether I will stay or seek to go from the university. Sadly it is not in my hands. For tomorrow I must face what the fates throw at me in my long running pay dispute.

I have to face a formal appeal tomorrow whose format I know not. I have laid out my case in a detailed letter so I guess I can just follow that. What the outcome will be is anyone's guess. I don't believe I have a hope of winning yet I can but try.

And so to the choice, stay or go. If things go in my favour I will stay. If they don't I will start looking in earnest elsewhere. But there is little out there.

There is a further consideration, my mood. By convincing myself I will fail I'm hoping to cushion the blow and limit the fall out. I have learned from bitter experience that that is a better way to be. Sometimes though my addled mind won't let me do that.

Whether I blog tomorrow I will decide when I get home.

I Heard a Voice.

Shameless Self Indulgence.

I have a favour to ask of all my loyal blog friends to indulge my ego. If you like what you see on this blog and feel it could go further please feel free to nominate it for a Mind Media Award, see link below:

http://www.mind.org.uk/blog/7066_submit_your_favourite_bloggers_and_tweeters_for_the_mind_media_awards

For those unaware, Mind is one of the most influential mental health charities in the UK. I have received a lot of support from them over the years as well as working for them in paid and unpaid capacities.

Don't think there is any financial gain to be made by a nomination but the kudos would be good and maybe it can then spread my passion for madness and food to many others.

Thanks in advance.

I Heard a Voice.

A Late Lunch.

There is an all pervading smell of roasted cloves and ham here. Yes it is time a belated Sunday lunch. I've done very little today other than read and listen to the Magic Flute. I also listened to an excellent recording of Benjamin Britten's work. When I was a child we used to sing at Snape during the Aldeburgh Festival. I knew not at that time that it was inspired by Britten. I have decided that my next CD purchase will be Peter Grimes.

Tomorrow I return to reality. My mystery ailment has all but gone now and I'm none the wiser what it was. Why are Doctors so vague? I went back on Friday and the Doctor tried to tell me it was a side effect of medication. Very unlikely given that I have taken that drug for the best part of 19 years without a problem.

What I don't know yet is when and if motivation will return. Perhaps if Thursday's show down goes well it will. But I seriously doubt it will go in my favour.

More soon.

I Heard a Voice.

PS The Palestinian kebabs on Friday were a mighty triumph!

Hark, a Deafening Silence

I am waiting for a voice from the north. Yet all I hear is a deafening silence. Sadly that is as I had expected-a world obsessed with pieces of paper clearly doesn't want to hear my voice. I have heard nothing from Cambridge. It seems ever the way with the honourable exception of my present employer, no one else seems able to look beyond what I lack and take in what I do. I expect the silence to continue.

I remain unwell with this mystery ailment. It appeared to be a kidney problem but now seems to have morphed into pain on the left side when I eat. I suppose I ought to go back to the Doctor but who knows if that will be more conclusive.

That brings me to main point of this post, voices and Doctors. I am as I have openly acknowledged a voice hearer. That now is exceedingly rare, such is the power of my risperidone. But when I was at the surgery on Monday there was no acknowledgement of my psychosis on her screen. There were 3 diagnoses, from 1991, 1994, and 2001-all were wrong. Whatever happened to the incontrovertible truth that I have a mood disorder with psychosis? Am I a liar? Is my book a complete fraud? Or do Doctors just lie?

Were I a liar I seriously doubt that my book would be on the essential reading list for our mental health nurses. If I was lying, why would so many different groups ask me to come and lecture to their students? Why do people who come to my training courses feel so uplifted? Why do so many who have heard my story or read my book describe it as "inspirational"? Is that the work of a liar? I guess others should judge that.

I have been around Doctors for years on both side of the mental health divide. Whether they are liars I do not know but what I do know is that what they tell you and what they tell each other are not always the same thing.

11 years on I am still ruing the day that the brilliant psychiatrist Heather McAlister suddenly left the employment of the Kent Mental Health Trust. Not that I do not wish her well-I certainly do. But she left before we could formally diagnose my illness. One might say who cares so many years on? Well I care, I have never lied about my illness.

I Heard a Voice.

The Inglorious Summer.

Well, it has been raining again. We have had the odd glimpse of sun but it is yet another poor day. There is one bonus with this awful weather, there is a distinct lack of flies and wasps compared to last year. I guess though we English are used to such troubles-that is part of being English.

I remain off work with my apparent kidney problem. Yesterday morning I felt considerably better but it all returned later in the day. Today I don't feel too bad although for good measure I seem to have also developed a problem with my wrist which is rather painful-no idea how that happened. I seem to be falling apart.

Mentally I continue to be flat. Not really depressed but more resigned and flat. It seems so long since my flying mood of the winter before it all went wrong. I long for those days but they don't seem to want to come back. I am buoyed though by the upswing in readers on here in the last couple of days-long may it continue.

I am currently boiling some eggs to do what my book tells me is a medieval Egyptian dish for lunch-Baid Mutajjan. Hard boiled eggs are lightly fried in olive oil then dipped into a mix of cumin, cinnamon, coriander, and salt. Sounded nice-I will report back some time later.

And then a quiet afternoon of Ernest Hemingway. I find it so boring being off work. I have not stepped foot in the pub for 3 days nor indeed drunk. The most I have managed is Chinese tea which so far doesn't appear to be doing any harm. But God I want to get well.

I Heard a Voice.

Glorious Coffee.

I have always loved coffee. Even as a very small child a drank it although it was usually cold by the time I could drink it. There are few things better than coffee to wake one up in the morning. As my illness took hold in 1990 my consumption increased dramatically. By the time I got to my last term in the summer of 1991 I was consuming 20-25 cups a day. And I like it strong. Of course I couldn't sleep under those circumstances although that was as much about the turmoil in my mind and the hitherto undiscovered voices as it did to caffeine.

In recent years I have really cut down on the coffee. Rarely do I have more than a cup and half a day now. I've done very well on that-perhaps all I need to do is tackle the beer and fags now and I will be a walking picture of health.

So why coffee today? Well it the first day I have not drunk any in many years. Of course this is not what I had planned. It is a response to what appears to be a really painful kidney infection. Well that is what it seems to be. What started as a feeling of eating too much roast pork on Sunday morphed into something far worse. I saw a Doctor which was inconclusive but as last night progressed all the the signs and pain suggested the kidneys.

I'm in less pain today but utterly wiped out. It is a diet of water and medication for me for a while. For good measure I also have an eye infection so I am resembling a walking pharmacy at the moment. Let's hope it goes soon.

I Heard a Voice.

An Air of Resignation.

It has been a strange few days and my mind is in a weird place. It has been a sense of utter resignation. My appeal has been postponed until 12th-I feel I have no chance. I also took the plunge and applied for a job in Cambridge. Yet I have the same feeling of resignation with that. I know I can do the job but why is it that these places think the only people who know anything about mental health are nurses, social workers and counsellors? It is bullshit and I have proven track record as an unqualified practitioner-the comments of my students speak for themselves.

Talking of my students I witnessed the ultimate outcome of my efforts yesterday. I am working with a truly lovely woman who is training to be a teacher. For 20 years or more she has battled depression. I had her from the moment I met her and her progress despite a few blips has been astonishing. But it was what she said yesterday that almost brought tears to my eyes. "I am proud of my children and proud of who I am". That is little short of a miracle for a woman whose self esteem was so low when I met her after all these years ravaged by a devastating depression. That put me in a good mood.

I had lunch with my former head of department yesterday which was also good. So I thought I would be heading into a weekend of good mood. But it didn't last. At 4.30 pm I spoke to a close colleague and discovered that a key plank of my pay appeal is being taken away from me. It would seem I will no longer be involved with supervising our mentors. Maybe that has sealed my fate, who knows?

After that today has not gone to plan. I had hoped to get the bus to St Albans, eat Moroccan food and meet a friend for some real ale. But I was too tired. So to plan B.

Several hours on I have a wonderful smelling beef rendang bubbling slowly away on the hub, I have listened to the whole of the Messiah and discovered the delights of Ernest Hemingway. "Death in the Afternoon" is of course a controversial book. I went to a bullfight in Granada in 1990. I don't recall any concern for the safety of the horses as Hemingway describes in detail in chapter 1 but I recall being mesmerised by the skill and courage of both bull and matador. I don't think I will ever go again.

Granada 1990, a life time away; a life changing experience and the happiest I have ever been. It was 2 months before my illness. For it was there that I met Kathryn. Or should I call her Rachel as I do in the book? So long ago.

I Heard a Voice.

Summer's Here-Break Out the Linen Attire.

I was 10 years old when I first went to Australia to sing. On the way we stopped to refuel at Bombay. Nothing could prepare me for the furnace that awaited me as we stepped out the plane. I walked into a wall of heat and humidity at precisely midnight local time; it was 88 degrees and close on 100% humidity.

Of course we don't get that here. But finally I think today summer has arrived. We are lucky enough to have missed the showers here and had a glorious day. So much so I have broken out my summer attire of linen-another of my English traits. Not of course my famous suits but cool loose linen trousers and an equally loose shirt. I fear it could be a long night.

I have achieved more than I thought I would today. I struggle to get motivated when I don't have a queue of students running to my door. Paperwork bores me. But today I got some done.

I also had nice surprise when a lovely card arrived from an outgoing student union sabbatical officer thanking me for my help over the last 2 years. I'm not sure I helped much but it is nice to be appreciated. Tomorrow I am meeting my former head of department for lunch-nice to step away for a while.

And tonight? I will griddle a chop marinaded in spices a la Ken Hom-I've mentioned that before on here. Then I will settle down with Pimm's and catch up on some TV. See you soon.

I Heard a Voice.

And Our Little World is Rounded with a Sleep.

So spoke the words of Shakespeare. I think the quote comes from the Tempest although since reading it for A Level 24 years ago my mind is a little hazy on that one. But that song that was set to music by Vaughan Williams was known to me long before then. I sang them as a child. "We are such stuff as dreams are made of, and our little world is rounded with a sleep".

Maybe Shakespeare understood dreams better than me. But whatever they are about I finally slept well last night. There were of course dreams but I was only woken twice rather than the 4 times a night of the previous 4 nights. It has made me feel somewhat better though.

It has been a quiet day of Beethoven and newspaper reading. Maybe I will watch the football later. For now I am par boiling potatoes to go with roasted chicken thighs later.

I promised last night to report back on my Thai curry. The answer, simply stunning. Powerful heat and wonderful cornucopia of flavours-perhaps the best one I have ever done. Beka-whom I taught to cook Thai curry and who now cooks it better than me-would be somewhat proud.

Tomorrow it is back to reality. I have one final chance to resolve my pay dispute-I will have to write the letter of my life just to get a chance. All will be known on 10th July at the latest. If it fails I will be looking to move on in my life. Who knows where that will take me. For now though I just enjoy a quiet Sunday and contemplate that great passion of mine, food.

I Heard a Voice.

Fire From the East!

It has been a strange weekend. I have not been at my best and I had a dramatic mood swing downward out of the blue last night. I had my fourth bad night of nightmares in a row-if this continues life does not look quite so good. Maybe there is a relapse on the cards.

But it hasn't all been wasted. I finished proofing Izzi's PhD and she seemed to think it had helped quite a lot. Not quite what I had planned for the last 2 days of my holiday but it kept me out of the pub for a while.

And so to today. I feel very little but tiredness. I went shopping and did a whole heap of domestic stuff-you know the boring nitty gritty stuff that we are all lumbered with. But for the last hour I have had more fun.

There are few things as therapeutic as making Thai curry pastes from scratch. Today I made two. I am planning a jungle curry from the renowned Australia chef David Thompson who has spent most of his life researching the history of Thai food. He is in many ways revered for his expertise.

I've not done this one before and I'm not sure I have ever used so many chillies in a dish and I reduced the specified number. Joey would be proud of me if I can get through this. I couldn't get any fresh pepper corns but I will improvise.

Assuming I survive the chilli onslaught I will try to report back tomorrow. In the meantime, here is to an undisturbed sleep free from the perils of my night time demons.

I Heard a Voice.