The Russian Doll.

When I was a very young child we had a friend who lived a few doors down called Michael. His mum was Russian and his dad drove an E Type Jaguar. I didn't understand its iconic status then but it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. E Types aside, his mum introduced me to Russian Dolls, you know the ones where you open it and inside are many smaller dolls. Layer after layer. That was mesmerising too. So why this today?

Well I am full of anxiety, low, listless and aimlessly wandering. In what is likely to be my final post of 2013 you find me sinking. As I wandered pointlessly about the town where I work I thought of anxiety and what it does to people. I'm never at my best with students with anxiety but the one thing I always say is it is fear of what might happen rather than what really happens. It is the Russian Doll from the inside. Each anxiety breeds another, and another, and yet more. Soon the anxiety has snowballed into a huge doll the size of which it is impossible to comprehend. That is how I feel on the last day of this year.

Distraction should help but doesn't. I need to get on with my MSc but my mind is elsewhere. Sure as night follows day, depression will follow anxiety.

But my troubles can wait as I have just heard the news that my friend Jeff died today. He has been battling cancer and I visited him a year ago when he was given only a few weeks to live. Well he fought hard and made it to a year. I will forgive him for being a Liverpool supporter but on days like today I hope my mum's beliefs about an after life are true and one day I will sit in a bar somewhere with Jeff talking about nothing in particular. I need to focus on that not some trivial earthly trouble.

I'm sorry this is such a low post, it is how I feel. That aside I wish you all a very happy New Year and a prosperous 2014.

I Heard a Voice.

Jack Frost Comes.

Another place another nightmare. Actually it was 4 nightmares last night and early this morning. It has been a very bad dreaming holiday. There is no explanation, I'm under no stress at all. I saw a book by Freud about dreams yesterday, perhaps I should buy it.

As you will gather I'm back at home in Hertfordshire. My troubled night was marked by cold and I opened the curtains this morning to reveal a sharp frost and bitter temperatures. It really is cold out there despite the glorious winter sunshine.

By means of a change today I took another venture into my past. I was introduced to the music of Michael Head by my eccentric singing teacher at school. He was a strange man who I always felt had an unhealthy interest in young men. Nothing ever happened but he did make me feel uncomfortable at times. After many years I finally found a CD of Head's songs which dad you got me for Christmas. This morning I heard the hauntingly beautiful song cycle "Over the Rim of the Moon". That has not come to my ears since I performed it in my last ever concert of my school career in the summer of 1988. Most agreed it was not my finest performance. Mum complained that the piano was too loud. But it is a tough ask of an 18 year old to sing it in its entirety to 500 people. The year before I had sung the same composer's "The Singer" and blown the audience away. Those were the old days before madness. I was an arrogant fool then. Perhaps I still am.

The cold will keep me indoors today. Mozart will follow on from Head and the days of my holiday will pass. Soon I will be back in the melee. But before then there is slow roast pork, Rioja, and reading to do. See you all soon.

I Heard a Voice.

Winter Sun.

A bright winter sun greeted my- as I emerged late the morning after the night before. It was cold though. What a night it was. We surpassed last year's epic by about 3 1/2 hours and I got home at about 1.45 am. Today I did not pay a hangover price, more a nightmares and exhaustion price. For the first time in years I decided against going to the Boxing Day run. This did not go down well as I received a barrage of texts requiring me to go. In fact I went back to bed. Not sure what I feel now but I will head for the Butt later.

This week has gone fast. Depending on how ferocious tonight's predicted storm is I plan to drive back home on Saturday. If there is travel disruption I might wait until Sunday.

I have been very lucky with presents this year. But most important of all was a short poetry book Miriam gave me. Turning to her poem published on page 116 I was stunned the read about me. It was an amazing piece that shows how far I have come from the darkness into the light. I almost cried. I never really think of people viewing me in the that way. I guess I make a mark sometimes.

Nearly time to eat so will be away. Maybe back tomorrow on here or at the weekend. I hope everyone had peaceful and happy Christmas and let's all pray for a prosperous New Year.

I Heard a Voice.

The Storm is Over.

Well we all made it in one piece through the vicious storm of last night. No damage here, my car is alive and kicking and Miriam and Nigel had a good journey down. So we commence the festivities.

Today has been spent wrapping, organising, cheese buying, wine selecting and cooking curry goat. It looks and smell delicious after what appeared a slow start. Still haven't got used to using an aga but getting there. Everything is delivered to Beka's so no last minute scrabbles before the big day. Dad will go to church and we will go to the pub. He'll pick us up from there to go for the gargantuan feast that awaits at Beka's. They looked a little stressed when I went round but all will be right on the night.

That just leaves me the wonderful task of wishing my readers world wide a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year! Stay safe and enjoy the holiday. I may be back tomorrow, depends on how much wine I drink!

I Heard a Voice.

Wet and Wind Swept!

I write today from dad's house. The wind is howling, the rain squalling and it's very dark and gloomy-not the Garden of England at its best. I drove down yesterday to avoid the bad weather. Miriam has to work today so has to risk it tomorrow. Good luck to her, the Dartford Bridge has closed today. My trip was very pleasant, Sunday is a good day to drive.

The season of Christmas is almost upon us and I'm finally able to put aside thoughts of the university for a while. I've also given myself a week off study. Now I'm doing what I do best, party and cook. There is a pork and herb terrine cooking away in the bottom of the aga. I will leave it a couple of days to cool and weight it down for more compact finish. In the not too distant future-maybe an hour-I will start making beef in beer which will cook along merrily for a couple of hours. Tomorrow if and when Miriam and Nigel get here I will undertake my first ever curry goat. Definitely looking forward to that one although I'm not brave enough to use the purists scotch bonnet chillies!

Mentally I'm doing okay, maybe around +1 of my scale. Given recent events I can live with that. Forgot to do my mood diary before I came here so will have to catch up on my return.

On the day itself we are all going up to Beka's. There will be 10 of us. I'm only assisting with the food. I have finished my shopping but have a lot of wrapping to do-I hate wrapping.

Tomorrow I will blog a Christmas message. Another year gone, another year older. Take care out in the storm if you are UK based.

I Heard a Voice.

Whispers From a Distant Land.

Words can be so powerful. I try to create images with words in my books. The skill of my job is the use of words. Words can stun a room as they did the day we launched "A Pillar of Impotence" and the day we had mum's funeral. Yesterday I was struck silent-that is rare-by a voice from my past.

The voice is very significant as she knew me before my madness and also knew Rachel. The owner of that voice is someone I have looked for over the years after we lost touch in the mid to late 1990s. Yesterday she found me.

I know I really shouldn't read work e mails when I'm on holiday but I do scan. Yesterday morning I picked up an e mail from a name I didn't recognise entitled "a blast from the past". Intrigued I opened it and there was a message from someone I miss and whose kindness marked the early years of my madness and my poor response to that kindness. The mad aren't always nice, some like I was then are self obsessed.

She has ordered my book and seemed delighted that I am doing what I do, making a mark. But more importantly she said she was glad I was alive. Given how precarious life was in those days they were truly profound and moving words. She too has found her way in life overcoming many years of depression that I singularly failed to understand until madness hit me.

Those days are long gone, the people scattered, changed, and in different orbits to mine now. But it was nice to hear such a whisper from my past, from before and after. I am really glad she got in touch. Bit worried what she might make of the book though-as far as I'm aware no one from those days who knew has read it. Let us hope Rachel does not come searching too; she won't, of that I'm certain.

And to tonight. Work Christmas party. Not been since 2009. Hoping for a good night. For now I listen to "Aida" whilst I should be studying.

I Heard a Voice.

A Most Inauspicious Start.

My Christmas holiday began today a day late, with a blizzard of nightmares, news of the Ashes lost and total exhaustion. You can tell from my last post I was not very happy on Friday. My extra day at work did not go well, lasted 10 hours, and I didn't get home until 8.30 pm. Rare is the day I have to get people locked up but those are always the worst. But I did what I needed to do. Have to go in again tomorrow to collect my diary, get various tickets I need and to write up the debacle of the last few days.

With luck I will sleep better tonight. Tomorrow brings governor's drinks at Trust Head Office-still struggling with the idea that I am important in some circles-then a relaxed evening of curry and beer. I did manage to do some study, never thought I would take to on-line lectures but it was surprisingly useful.

As we are going to Beka's and there will be other guests for Christmas I need to do some extra shopping. Finances do not look going after an unplanned plumber visit and the admin-ripoff-fee on my final car payment on 20th. Then I will be free of debt.

My plan is to drive down to dad's on Sunday. Miriam comes on Tuesday so I need to think of all the culinary delights from the festive season. I'll let dad do the shopping. Before then I have the staff Christmas party and I need to do some more study. Shame I missed the Carol Service in Chelsea yesterday but it couldn't be helped. Nice to see some fight in England after the pathetic display in the first 3 Tests. Better luck on Boxing Day in Melbourne. I went to the MCG in 1983 although not for cricket. Richmond Tigers. Sadly I can't see the AFL here, got the wrong satellite package.

Might blog again tomorrow.

I Heard a Voice.

Holiday, What Holiday?

In theory I'm now on holiday until 6th January. However, owing to events, failures, and general incompetence which is beyond my control I now have to go to work on Monday. It will be a day of tough decisions. Yes those, the ones I don't make! Oh I forgot about that. So where are the decision makers? Where do you think?

I came home after Friday's debacle exhausted and raging. But I did not fire off the torrent of angry e mails my mind wanted. That might have been foolish. I'm certainly not at all happy. Then again though I'm only a humble bottom feeder. More important people than me make those tough decisions

On this quiet Sunday afternoon with the "Magic Flute" playing I'm focusing on calming down. What will be will be. In a rare departure for a Sunday I'm cooking a curry later. This owes more to expiry dates and not back until late on Friday than some radical shift in my behaviour. I will return to the Sunday roast next week when I will be with dad. In the meantime I have to do some academic reading. But that can wait until Tuesday. Until next time.

I Heard a Voice.

Prelude to Judgement Day.

A few weeks into the first module of my MSc it has been an experience of mixed ups and downs. I go to each session feeling woefully unprepared. I'm then pleasantly surprised that I do get it. Then it is back to uncertainty. I have done some work and at times felt confident but until today that confidence had not been tested. Today we had to present an outline of our assignments on service improvement.

With an accompaniment of Wagner-God it goes on-I spent 3 hours last night fretting, doubting and thinking why on earth am I doing this. By about 10 pm I had 1100 words, an outline, and no idea if it was on the right lines. That doubt was further enhanced by re reading this morning. I thought it was shit.

Yet as I looked at previous projects it began to dawn on me that I was on the right track. The question was was I brave enough to present to my peers and tutor. The first 2 who presented were slated. So with great trepidation I volunteered to present. Apparently it was brilliant. I had got it. My tutor told me after that she had no worries at all. She enquired how I felt about presenting it to a dragon's den type panel as I will have to do in January. Facing year 9 in school has taught me never to fear such events. And with that I can march on. There will be doubts but I must trust myself.

The interesting thing is that it was not that the others didn't get it. It was just that they couldn't think in any other way apart from being a psychiatrist. How ironic is that, little me, who no one listened to for 10 years holding psychiatrists in awe. Strange too that they are now my friends. I'm learning more of that strange world. Let us hope they are receptive to change. They are all receptive to me-we are all students in that context. I wonder what it will be like if I relapse and am once again cast into the psychiatric system. Well they have to listen to me now-as a governor they accountable to me. Oh how my world has changed.

I only have 1 more day of work. 3 weeks off beckon to study, eat, drink, cook, and recharge. Then the onslaught begins again in January. Then too I face the dragons for real.

I Heard a Voice.

Missed me?

Have you missed me? It has been a whole week since I was last on here. My intention each evening for the last 6 days has been to blog. But it was not to be. It has been quite a week. So on a sunny Sunday morning to "The Marriage of Figaro" quietly playing I return to my loyal audience.

I come to you via "Othello", an important meeting, a carol service, a fine address by a controversial clergyman, Chinese food time 3, a study day, anxiety re that study, some Thai food, a visitor for dinner, a haircut, an MOT (it passed), and an idea from my dad about getting me nominated for a high profile award. So quite a week.

Thus I emerge a little closer to my holiday, only 1 more week of work, with something of a plan for the next month or so. I intend to recharge the batteries first and foremost followed by progression in the MSc. I should of course note on here the tragic death of a great man. I hope me fears that Nelson Mandela had been holding South Africa are without substance.

Back to today, I feel good. I will relish the Mozart, complete "Gabriel's Angel", find a little more out about the world and with luck have the contents of my survey for my MSc done and ready to send. There you go, a productive Sunday topped off with what I hope is some fine roast gammon. Have a great Sunday.

I Heard a Voice.

The Countdown Starts.

Rare are the occasions on which I attend church services these days. Wedding and funerals of course. Other than though nothing although I did go to King's a few weeks ago for evensong. The 2 services on which I would make exceptions are Remembrance Day and Advent Sunday. No chance of getting tickets for King's despite someone asking me recently if I got free tickets. In truth I've not been there since 1982. But there is a saving grace. And on this Advent Sunday I listened to the great recording I mentioned yesterday. A splendid way to spend a Sunday afternoon.

The countdown to Christmas starts here for me. In but 4 weeks it will all be over. I will visit dad and we have an away match at Beka's mum's this year for lunch. Let us hope we can match the glories of last year. It was superb then. I think I might get some white Rioja to bring along as we are eating chicken.

As for now I continue to listen to religious music and relax. The lamb goes in at 3 pm then eat about 7 pm. Tomorrow is a busy day; in fact all week is busy. I only have 2 weeks before my break. I do need to do some study then too. But Christmas is still Christmas so I will banish the thoughts of years ago into the new world I now inhabit. That is being well. Christmases are awful for depressed people. Thankfully those days appear past for the time being.

I Heard a Voice.

Weekend Mix Up.

My plan this weekend was to meet a former student for lunch to celebrate her qualifying as a teacher today then go to Cambridge tomorrow to watch the Pythons. Part the way through the former I realised through Facebook that I had actually got the wrong day of the Pythons. It was indeed this afternoon that they played. Football is supposed to be played on a Sunday. I had been aware there may be a problem but checking on the web it seemed the game was tomorrow. So no football for me this weekend although the Pythons did win; so a plus point there.

Back at home after a very pleasant lunch with Hannah-it is amazing how different my conversations with students are after they have left-I cooked a curry, listened to Jacqueline Du Pre's magical recording of the Elgar cello concerto, and contemplated what to do on my unexpectedly free Sunday. Nothing grand, just slow roast lamb, the Advent Carol Service I recorded in 1979, and relax. I need to do some study too. Actually I bumped into a fellow student from my course as I waited for Hannah. It never ceases to amaze me that given my history I'm now friends with a number of psychiatrists. How the world has changed.

Talking of psychiatrists, Jacek my former supervisor sent me very flattering but false e mail saying I was the "best one man CMHT in the county". Oh that he were my manager, might the world be different and my desire to leave may no be where it is now. But that is life I suppose.

And so I say goodbye to November. It has been a good month from hits on my blog. I hope you all enjoy what you see. See you in December.

I Heard a Voice.

Thanksgiving Day Memories.

On Thanksgiving Day 2003 I took a taxi from my new home in Folkestone to my mum and dad's house in Hythe to celebrate with turkey. It was a precarious journey as a car pulled out of a side road and forced my driver off the road and onto the pavement. Thank God no one was walking there. I had only moved out of home the previous summer. Mum thought it would be nice to have Thanksgiving Day dinner at home. It was a lovely evening with a fine crown and good fun. It is 1 of my happy memories of mum.

Over the next 7 years her mental health deteriorated badly. The final time I ate turkey with her was at Christmas in 2010. She had always suffered from abnormal anxiety. Most of my life she was unhappy if not depressed. By 2010 she also was creeping into dementia. It was not the happiest Christmas. She cooked the crown of turkey for 11 hours as she was convinced we would all get food poisoning. The following year she would experience the first such event without either of us there since we were born. She never saw another Christmas.

I have spent too much of my life regretting and second guessing and asking why. I cannot change my past, I wasn't there so we were not together. But on this day I remember that happy Thanksgiving all those years ago.

To all my friends in the USA-and there are many of you-may I wish you a very happy Thanksgiving. I have no turkey-bit much living on my own-but I am watching Green Bay and Detroit and trying to work out how in the world the Lions aren't up by about 40 points!

I Heard a Voice.

Another Time, Another Place.

Why do we meet the people in our lives where and when we do? The chance encounters of time and space are what populate our lives and make us who we are. Maybe it is fate, destiny, or God. Who knows. But I do sometimes wonder what my life would have been like if I had met people in another time and another place. I have experienced that twice this week. My path would be different.

The greatest and most influential chance meeting of my life was in Granada in 1990. As I've said before that was where I met Rachel. Who would we be had we never met? Might I still have gone mad? The answer to the latter is probably yes.

But I cannot live my life asking about the what ifs. There have been many. When I got better was when I stopped asking that question in my head. That is how I keep my demons at bay. Who will enter my life next to change the direction for good or ill? I don't know.

I Heard a Voice.

A Dream Vacation.

For the past couple of weeks my nights have been comparatively calm. Yes dreams have woken me but it has only been once or twice a night. After my recent months it was a blessing to get some better sleep. All that changed last night. I was up 4 times and the ashtray looked fuller than of late. Why as I plagued thus? I have no idea of the purpose of dreams-will Jung enlighten me-but I wish life would be with fewer of them.

My week went reasonably well. I spoke to Jayne who told me I sounded happy. As I ever I had to check with her to see if I was too manic-she said not. Tuesday and Wednesday were a little tricky but I think I'm in a good place.

I have had a quiet day, shopping, a pint of tribute, and domestic boredom. I bumped into Gary and Ali in town and have now been invited for lunch there. That is only the second such invitation I've had since I moved to Hertfordshire. As a child we were poor, ate vegetables out of the garden, had little meat and what we did have was cheap cuts. I well recall stuffed hearts-I loved them. Tomorrow I will re-acquaint myself with them. I'll let you know if my tastes have changed. My flat is looking more respectable now-will finish it off tomorrow. An evening of cricket lowlights awaits me-the 1st Test has gone disastrously wrong. Another post to follow.

I Heard a Voice.

A Surprise Outcome.

Do any of you lovely people out there in blogland ever find yourselves imagining what people are like before you meet them? I do. Visually I'm always wrong but in character less so. For some of the students I have a picture of what they are like from what others tell me or what they have written on the screening form we use. For others they just ring and come. If forewarned by others I'm usually right; today I was wrong.

I met a new student today and was completely wrong. I expected it not to go well. Much to my surprise it was a delightful conversation. But my conversations are not about me being right or because they make me feel good. Those are incidental bonuses. What I know is that today I did some good; and that is the measure I use. Having learned perhaps more about depression in 40 minutes than ever before and coming to the realisation that some people can understand it she commented that "you're not like anyone else"-hurrah!!!! Music to my ears. She will be back.

Now home in the warm waiting for winter to close in as expected tomorrow I'm listening to Verdi's "Les Vepres Siciliennes" and supping a beer. It was preceded by a fine Vietnamese pork curry with lemongrass. I'm so virtuous I added some vegetables-mum would be very proud.

Let's hope tomorrow is as good as today.

I Heard a Voice.

Rolling Back the Years.

Cambridge looks after its own. 35 years have now passed since my long association with the greatest University in the world began. For it was in September 1978 that I joined King's College choir. I have had 3 stints in Cambridge, 1978-1983, 1988-1991, and 1999-2000. It is my spiritual home and I very much hope that 1 day I return there.

This weekend I went to Cambridge and Cambridge came to me. I spent a lovely day out there yesterday. It was trip full of memories but no flashbacks. I did a lot of thinking. My demons are at bay now. The day was almost spoiled by those odious, arrogant and patronising idiots that King's employs to keep the public out. I am not the public. As I queued for evensong, yes I do have to, I was appalled by their attitude. When I got in I was offered the best seat in the house. Preceding that I had a splendid lunch with a former tutor, I had a trip to the Maypole and added to my collection on CDs. It was good day. Shame Jayne was away, it would have been nice to her.

Today my beloved Pythons came to Hertfordshire to play American football. Yes I work at Hertfordshire and am a part time student by my loyalty was closer to home. We lost but it was a brave fight minus 10 of their best players against the most successful and most heavily resourced team in the university league.

Back home I cooked some pork which was good. I ate late though as it took longer to cook than I anticipated. I find myself feeling a little optimistic than of late, long may that last.

I Heard a Voice.

Practising What I Preach.

When I meet and support members of staff at work I always advise them against checking e mails and leaving work mobiles on when they are not at work. Most feel compelled to do this but it is a simple way of protecting one's mental wellbeing. My mobile goes off as soon as I leave work unless I have specific calls to make. I do not not as rule check e mails at weekends but I do ignore my own advice and scan them. Foolishly today I did just that. There was a nice e mail from a former student, I read that 1. More ominously there was an e mail from my friend Geri. She never contacts me at weekends unless something has happened. Today she e mailed. It remains unopened but I know it will bring bad news. A sense of deja vu is engulfing me.

Yesterday was a triumph, today is less so. It has the feel of the morning after the night before. I left the pub very late and did not wake up until 11.45. My friend Richard failed to turn up for lunch and his phone was off. I had an unpleasant e mail from a woman I knew 30 years ago telling me how bad my new book is. As for lunch, bland, overcooked and didn't feel like eating it. Most went in the bin.

So how to rescue today. Well the chardonnay is good, the Mozart Great Mass is playing and I'm enjoying reading "Charon's Ferry". Of course I have had many more good comments about it than bad but sometimes the bluntness of the mentally ill-yes she has schizophrenia-can be unsettling. So I will settle back with my Mozart and try not to think too much.

I Heard a Voice.

A Gift From the Gods.

At about 9.45 this morning I was rudely awakened by a thud as the post hit the doormat. Ordinarily on a Saturday I would not be best pleased. Today however I was heartened for I knew what it was. I slept on for another 45 minutes before getting up, making coffee, and putting the heating on. Only then did I open the package that had arrived via dad. Finally I had my hard copy of "Charon's Ferry" in my hand. There is something marvellous about physical incarnation of a book I have written. There are few feelings better.

I went to the Waggoners for lunch with Joey and Richard, did some shopping then read. I'm about a 1/5 the way through and so far only 3 errors. Last time all I saw was my mistakes. Today I saw a story. A story that some have called inspiring.

Next Thursday I will be giving a talk and displaying my gifts from the gods. Few people ever get published but it has happened to me twice. My audience will be a room full of trainee psychotherapists. Let us hope I can provide more inspiration and wisdom than the fools who tried to therapise me!

So back to Saturday. West Ham are about to kick off at Carrow road. I will cook a chickpea and chorizo stew then the drinks will flow. I have waited a long time for this moment. Best enjoy it to its full!

I Heard a Voice.

A Day Without Food.

The more observant of you and regular readers will recall that this blog is dedicated to mental health and food. Ironic then that the highest post views were for 2 pieces I wrote on not eating as I was ill. Today is another of those posts. Yes yesterday, for the 5th time in the last 6 months I was struck down by a bug and unable to eat. I actually feel much better today although not firing on all cylinders.

Dory text me today wondering why it is that I have been so prone to such ailments in recent months. I do not know the answer to that. I hope it is nothing sinister. But there is a precedent that plays a critical role in the climax of "A Pillar of Impotence".

When I had my devastating relapse in November 2000 the urgent referral my GP made back to mental health services was ignored. A 2nd referral was made and in the December I finally got to se a junior Doctor. She is course had access to the lies writeen about me from 8 years of service use and was guided by them. She was a fool. As ever the response was change the medication. They offered mirtazepine. It was supposed to stop my suicidal mania, my deep depression and my insomnia. It did none of those.

Then strange things started to happen. I had series of ear infections that failed to respond to treatment. My GP feared I would lose my hearing in my right ear. My stomach felt as if I had food poisoning for the next 6 months. Every cough and cold came my way. Yet I had a history of good resilient physical health. After that services abandoned me.

The following summer I stormed into the mental health team reception ranting and raving about them abandoning me and leaving me with severe physical problems. I saw a Doctor quickly. He left. Only at that moment did the critical revelation happen in my life. I met a new shrink who listened to me. We worked together. She gave me choice. And then she gave me risperidone. Finally the light came on. I've never really looked back. And now here I am today.

As for mirtazepine I shudder when I hear that word. Afterwards I found out it had a rare side effect that attacked the immune system. That was what happened with me.

Hopefully the present spate of ill health is purely down to bad luck.

I Heard a Voice.

The Leaves That are Green Turn to Brown.

A bitter swirling wind swept across the lake this morning. Bathed in brilliant autumn sunshine I shivered in a coat and admired my place. There was no sign of the heron. Apart from the odd dragonfly on the last days of its life cycle the insects have gone. The fallen leave of the season litter its shallow depths. This time of year reminds me of that haunting Simon and Garfunkel song "The Leave That a Green". It tells of a fading love affair as the fall comes. I once read a book on Paul Simon that talked of his doomed relationship with an English girl called Kathy. "Kathy's Song" haunted my madness for years. It still makes me think when I listen today but like so much of the those dark days in my life their impact is lessened all these years later.

Today did not go according to plan. So far this year there have been few dramatic unexpected moments. They will come but I felt a little at sea this day. I must steel myself for the storm that has yet to break.

Back at home with heat restored I had planned to study tonight. But my software is older than that used for the course materials so it is another day lost. I worry about getting behind. I guess I will have to print stuff off and spend tomorrow evening doing it.

For now I listen to Mozart, have a beer, and read my book. The prize of "Charon's Ferry" has yet to get into my hands. They sent 1 but it never arrived. They have promised another is on the way. It has been too long a wait. Time marches on though whatever sort of day I'm having. Soon enough it will be in my grasp.

I Heard a Voice.

The Great Scandal.

The past few years have seen the political, media, and public official worlds rocked by scandal. The so called "phone hacking scandal" has burst back into the public eye with a major court case that opened this week. On trial are a range of journalists mainly from the now defunct News of the World newspaper accused on hacking the phones of public figures and members of the public of media interest and offering bribes to get news scoops. The most high profile of them are 2 former editors Rebekah Brooks and Andy Coulson. The latter brought it to the heart of political power by being appointed chief spin doctor to David Cameron before the coalition came to power in 2010. The former Deputy Prime Minister John Prescott for whom I once indirectly worked has been talking about it for years. But it took the appalling hacking of the phone of a 13 year old girl murdered by a serial killer that exploded the whole thing. The offending newspaper closed down within a week.

I do not profess to understand such things but today's revelation that the 2 editors on trial had an affair for at least 6 years strikes me as supremely ironic. It is exactly the sort of behaviour that both sought to expose in their tabloid. There is a certain perverse feeling to that, that the world doesn't know. Of course all this has no bearing on my life. I am a nobody. What I do know is that were I a somebody my entire life would be known to the media in a matter of days. Let's hope I never become famous. But I do look forward to other trial revelations.

I spent the afternoon studying today. Made a lot of progress which makes me laugh about the changes that are in the offing in my life. Maybe I should have read change literature earlier. It will all come out in the wash no doubt; we learn more in 3 years time.

The backdrop to my afternoon of study was Offenbach followed by Paganini. A very civilised way to do it. Now as it is pay day I'm off to see Lin and Yan in the Fu Hao; it's been a while since I went there. So here is to ribs and Tsing Tao.

I Heard a Voice.

A Young Voice.

The radio has moved on from Lully to Haydn this week. I've always loved Haydn since my singing days. Dad pulled off a master stroke last Christmas by securing his complete works on CD. But I'm still enjoying his story when I get home in the evening. Sadly today I had to come home early for a failed attempt to meet the heating engineer-my boiler is still struggling. He comes again on Friday.

Mentally I'm not sure what I feel. I survived the great storm. Lots of trees down but I was safe. It is a feeling of nothing. Not all is going to plan but much is out of my control.

There was however a saving grace. K, my student in California wrote a very poignant piece for the university magazine on her battles with depression. Much to my surprise she mentioned me by name and contrary to what I always felt she found it really helpful. She has done more to challenge stigma there in 1 piece than I have done in 6 years. The reality is young people don't want to listen to a middle aged not very successful Cambridge graduate unless they are in trouble. Mental health promotion is so hard but it takes a young voice to reach out to the young. I know K will read this from California so as I said in my e mail, well done.

Tomorrow I hope I will feel something other than cold. I will study then and try to make sense of my MSc. Unusually for me I have no expectation of the outcome; just getting through will do me. It is daunting in some ways but I felt better after meeting the other students last week. Maybe I will blog again tomorrow.

I Heard a Voice.

Back to the 1970s.

My mum always used to tell a story that she took me to my first curry house at about a week old. I guess my mum and dad were quite adventurous in those days. They had a friend who ran a curry house and their son was born in the same week as me. We moved away from Surrey on my birthday in 1974. If I recall we paid one more visit to our friends during the Silver Jubilee celebrations in June 1977. I wonder where they are now?

Mum used to make beef curries in those days in the same way that everyone did in the 1970s. Basic compared to the original and a very British way of doing it. Mum's were usually too hot for me but I did love the cardamom she used.

Trying to think what to cook yesterday and having bought some beef I decided to go back to those days and see what happened. Garam masala, turmeric, fiery Indian chillies formed the base but it was the addition of desiccated coconut and sultanas that really took me back in time. And it was a triumph. Rick Stein called the recipe British Beef Raj curry. I'm sure natives to the Indian sub continent would have been appalled but it did the trick on a Saturday evening.

Away from the kitchen we are expecting a great storm in southern England tonight. Some are saying it might be the worst since the epic hurricane of 1987. Time will tell. I content myself with sitting in the warm, relaxing and slow roasting shoulder of pork. After several days of not feeling well it is good to be back to normal.

I Heard a Voice.

Back to School.

I recall from my childhood how soul destroying it was seeing "Back to School" notices all over the shops during the first week of the long summer holidays. Today I went back to school for the first time since 2000. Well that's not strictly true as I was forced to do a pointless NVQ 3 when I worked at CMHT. As it was pointless that didn't count.

Yes indeed I did make it to my first study day of my MSc. I'm still full of cold and feeling wiped out but I knew I couldn't miss it so in I went. Well it was a good day. I was anxious that I was far behind already given my recent health misfortune, time constraints, and my childish attempts to get the university's on line study facility work. In fact I was ahead of the games. So far so good. It did tire me out though.

There are of course strengths and weaknesses to all universities. In these days of fair access, equality, outreach one of the great strengths of our place is its diversity. Across the institution approximately 40% of students are from BME backgrounds. I never saw that in my day in Cambridge. In my group I am very much the ethnic minority. I heard a recent story about alleged discrimination against BME doctors in the NHS examinations. Clearly whoever did that research did not look at mental health. In my world there is a very healthy ethnic balance. I'm also in a minority in that I am 1 of only 2 non psychiatrists, the over 12 are all doctors. Very nice group though.

Back at home after some very nice twice cooked Szechuan pork I'm listening to a programme on the radio about Jean Baptiste Lully. I first came across him in the 3rd form at school. Today we would call it year 9-horrible group to teach. All I can recall is that he had an unhealthy interest in children. World has moved on thank God. Most of his adult life was spent at the court of the Sun King Louis XIV. There are hints of what Handel later did, the 2 overlapping for only the first 2 years of the latter's life. Good listening-never heard opera in French.

I am making a concerted effort to watch less TV, listen to more music and do a hell of a lot more reading. Hence an evening with the radio and my book. I do hope the cold lifts soon.

I Heard a Voice.

Coughing and Spluttering.

For the last 2 weeks of so I have been holding off the cold that has been scything its way through the people who populate my little world. I didn't so much feel ill just having a very back cough, blocked sinuses and multiple sneezing fits. That was until today when I succumbed to it in all its facet. I woke up barely able to speak, coughing my lungs out and feel very run down. I called in to cancel today then retired to bed. 2 1/2 later I was woken by a dream of mum. She looked younger than she did at the end of her life and had lost weight. Not sure if it was a good or a bad dream but dreams of mum are very unsettling.

Sadly I was unable to get a day just laying down and resting. My need for paper and crap food drove me into town for a while. Tomorrow is the first day of my MSc and search as I did in my flat I could not find paper to make notes on. I returned full of exhaustion. I'm now listening to radio 3 in anticipation of choral evensong at 3.30 pm. It is from the archives of 1981 when I had more hair, was shorter, lighter, and prior to mental illness taking over my life. Yes King's are on then. In the meantime I write this piece.

I did manage some reading. Not course reading as I planned but a rather fine book that a friend recommended which I started on Friday. If you are as sceptical about therapy as I am you must read "Gabriel's Angel" by Mark A Radliffe. I haven't stopped laughing since I started:

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Gabriels-Angel-Mark-Radcliffe/dp/0955336783/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1382536265&sr=1-1&keywords=gabriels+angel

Talking of books I'm still waiting for my copy of "Charon's Ferry". It is taking an awfully long time. But it will get here in the end.

I have to be better tomorrow. Whatever tomorrow brings I will make it to my study day. I'll report back later.

I Heard a Voice.

Slow Journey, Friendly Face.

It was not a good journey back from Kent today. The rain was pouring, we almost missed the train and there were no trains home beyond Alexandra Palace. So it was onto  a bus which made the trip more than an hour longer than normal. Seeing the floods on the road in north London there must have been a hell of a downpour. And we woke up to a sunny day in Kent.

As the rain came down I headed for a taxi to be greeted by a young Muslim driver with the traditional beard. Many of the drivers where I live come down from Luton where there is a large Asia community. I don't like the daily racist comments I hear around here. It has of course got worse since 9/11. For all people's foolish arrogant attitudes it was all proved wrong today. He was a charming polite young man. We talked of his homeland in Bangladesh, of his culture, his food and of course Eid. Why people have to be so bigoted and rude I have no idea. The man I met today was delightful. As he dropped me off he said "I enjoyed talking to you". As nice end to a difficult journey.

You may have worked out from my last post that it was a difficult week for me. Escaping to see dad was just what I needed. We all met up for Sunday lunch today in the Castle-very good carvery. I don't know when I will be down again. Maybe Christmas, maybe before. I have good friends there so in tough times it is a haven.

Tomorrow is very full on but I will have a nice break for lunch with Dory-ribs at China Sky-real Chinese food!

I Heard a Voice.

Almost Speechless.

Rare is the day when something surprises me. That is the nature of my life, little or nothing is too mad in my world. But the last 24 hours have ranked up there as amongst the most dumbfounding of the last few years. I have spoken on here to my cost of my desire for change. Last night the nature of that change came early.

Had I known then what I know now I would not have committed to the plan such as is it a few months ago. Yes I will go through with the MSc-too committed not to-but the outcome whatever I perceived it to be when I made that decision will in no way aid my cause.

It was once said of James VI of Scotland and James I of England that he was "the wisest fool in Christendom". I feel like the most foolish fool in Christendom today. We will see how the future plays out but I will return in a years time to what I have been doing for the last year, trying to make change happen.

For now I dwell on my foolishness. Did I do good today? Yes but it is swamped in my flawed mind by other things. The curse of a mood disorder.

I Heard a Voice.

Paperback Writer-"Charon's Ferry" is Published!

Hi everyone on a grim and wet day in Hertfordshire. Not weather for going out but good for country pubs with roaring fires. So off we toddled to the Horns at Datchworth for some fine roast beef and venison. Having had a rare for me 3 courses I feel full to bursting point. Cue a rest at home before the NFL games this evening.

My previous 2 posts both mentioned World Mental Health Day. It was good day in more ways than 1. Not only did I go to a fine conference and Brandon Marshall made his statement it was very special for me as it was the day on which "Charon's Ferry" finally came out in paperback! It has been a long journey but we have reached our destination at last. If you are interested go to the link below:

http://chipmunkapublishing.co.uk/?page_id=314

It is not currently on other sites and the price quoted includes p&p. Have fun reading if you humour me by buying it. Well someone has to buy it....other than my dad and sister. More soon.

I Heard a Voice.

Making a Statement.

On Thursday Night Football in the NFL this week the New York Giants played the Chicago Bears in Chicago. October is a month in which we see a lot of pink worn in the NFL in support of Breast Cancer Awareness month. You will also recall from my last post that it coincided with World Mental Health Day.

So why am I mentioned American football and mental health? Well yesterday Bears wide receiver Brandon Marshall wore luminous green shoes in direct contravention of NFL rules. He will be fined for that. The question is why?

Well a couple of years ago Marshall openly admitted that he had been diagnosed with and treated for Borderline Personality Disorder. Given that he is an extremely talented, big, strong and fast receiver who year after year is in the top 10 for receptions this explained why he had been through 3 different teams in his career. NFL teams do not give away that sort of talent. He had a reputation for being moody, emotional, unpredictable and some say unreliable. BPD explains a lot of that.

Marshall wore his green shoes on World Mental Health Day to publicise mental ill health and BPD specifically. Fantastic Brandon. Just so sad that the NFL chooses to support 1 worthy cause yet fines a player for supporting another. Perhaps the double standards we have to expect when it comes to mental health have come to the fore once again. Incidentally he has also said he will match any fine with a donation of his our to his foundation to fight for the cause.

I Heard a Voice.

Inspired on World Mental Health Day!

Today is a very special day for people like me. It is World Mental Health Day. My illness emerged in all its destructive power at about 9.30 am on Saturday 16th June 1990. Yes it is that defined. For years I would not admit it or talk about it. Except to my people. That is others who are or were mentally ill. We didn't celebrate madness in those day. But we do now.

I always feel a fraud on this day as I really ought to have set up some grand series of events that will change people's minds at the university. But campaigning on that scale is not a strength on mine. Coupled with it falling in week 2 of our new academic year we rarely get enough interest or time to prepare. After all no one is here over the summer. I campaign through this blog, by my teaching, my talks, my books and my practice. Those are my fortes.

That said I'm never idle on this day. This year I went to the annual HPFT Recovery Conference in Stevenage. I came away not with great pearls of wisdom on how to improve our service at the university, no great advice to colleagues and certainly nothing I can summarise to justify my day away. What I did get was a sense of inspiration and invigoration after hearing such wonderful presentations by those with lived experience. In my language the mad.

Tomorrow I go back to normality with the knowledge that those who do go into recovery-and recovery is a journey not a destination-have so much to give to all of us. Without my breakdown the lives of the few 100 students I have seen in the last 6 years would have been different. That may be for good or ill but for some I do make a difference. The hard part is hanging onto that when the dark clouds engulf me again. Today I'm well but I know the clouds will come some day.

I Heard a Voice

Beautiful Day, Ugly Lunch.

What a beautiful day. The sun is out, it is nice and warm, and there is no sign of any rain. A perfect autumn day. I have just got back from a post lunch walk. Such a glorious day to walk down the Digswell Road with the red, yellow and gold hues that make it look more like New England than Hertfordshire. All seems like it is well. There is a but though. Sadly lunch was awful.

Bland, tough, chewy lamb, insipid grey gravy, overcooked leeks, and undercooked sprouts; it really wasn't one of my better efforts. I had really been looking forward to that. Certainly the last time I buy that allegedly upmarket lamb from a well known supermarket that will remain nameless. The only saving grace was a fine glass of rioja from a budget supermarket-sometimes cheap can be great.

Back at home I'm listening to Billie Holiday and contemplating doing the washing up. I plan to make a shepherd's pie with the left over lamb, really must add a lot to it to make it taste at least of something. Yet despite the mixed fortune of the day my mind remains upbeat. With luck this time next week I will be the proud owner of the very first copy of "Charon's Ferry" to come off the press. Yes ladies and gentlemen, that time is nearly upon us.

I Heard a Voice.

Appetite Restored.

Well after 2 days of feeling rotten normal service seems to have been restored. I had a terrible night with dreams but didn't feel too bad when I did get up. Cue a trip to Old Hatfield for breakfast in the Eight Bells and a pint of Doombar. All very civilised. The breakfast was excellent with the bacon tasting as my grandma used to cook. God that was a long time ago.

The afternoon was devoted to reading and the "Messiah" followed by putting together my first ever Lancashire Hotpot. There is a fine smell emanating from the kitchen and I have just put on the great God that is Bob Marley. So here's to Saturday and health restored!

I Heard a Voice.

PS Where have all my American readers gone? No dieting tips so no audience!

Supersized Diet-Only in America!

Given that this blog is dedicated to mental health and food it is supremely ironic that the 2 most viewed posts of all time are about not eating and dieting. Yes, yesterday's post really pumped up the volume on visits to my blog. Since May I have posted 2 posts whilst ill and unable to eat much. Partly that shows my bad luck in the last few months in stomach bugs; this is 4th I have had this year. But more importantly it shows that dieting and weight loss are more popular subjects that mental health and food. The common denominator? The USA.

Considering my passion for American football it might strike the reader as odd that I have never been there. When I left Cambridge when my breakdown happened and I battled madness I had a great zeal to go but lacked the money. Now even though I have more money I still can't afford to go. Maybe 1 day.

Currently 2 of my students are in the USA either studying or doing a work placement. The 1 in California has already blogged on how colossal American portioons of food are. This confirms what I have learned from other friends who have visited that mighty country. As an occasional viewer of "Man vs Food" on TV I think I would just be sick. When I go out to eat I always have small portions or leave half of it. For a foodie I have remarkably small appetite. I'm more interested in the cooking than the eating.

From the response to the 2 blogs on weight loss I guess there is a great market across the pond for advice on dieting. I'm afraid to all my friends there I am simply not the person to ask. But it is nice to have so many viewers.

As for me I'm still not well. I have eaten a can of soup and a salad in the last 48 hours. I'm supposed to be going out later and if I do I will eat little. Go away bug, I want to get back to normal even if I'm not as healthy as I might be. In anticipation I'm planning on cooking Lancashire hotpot for the first time in my life tomorrow; let's hope I make it.

I Heard a Voice.

Crash Diet.

There are many ways to lose weight so I'm told. Cut out fat, sweets, sugar, carbohydrates, alcohol. Do more exercise. Eat more vegetables. Eat less. Eat more healthily. Dieting is not something that crosses my mind much. I am I suppose a little overweight. My normal pre risperidone weight was 9 stone. Now I hover below, at or just above 10 stone. True I eat too much belly pork and ribs. I love roast potatoes. I no longer exclusively eat the Far Eastern diet of when I first got my own place. I drink too much. Barring walking I do far too little exercise. And yes I do have to take risperidone. But it is not unmanageable. I had a rare conversation on weight last night in the Hedgehog when I noticed that Tony the landlord had lost weight. He has made a conscious decision to cut out carbohydrates and beer. Good for him. There is of course another way to lose weight and that is to get ill. Today I woke up ill.

When I was child and I was sick my mum used to cut out all food-seemed mad at the time-and force me to drink disgusting medicine the name of which in shrouded in the mysteries of my mind. At school matron used to just starve us. Neither worked very well. Having spent most of this morning either in the bathroom or asleep I decided a better method was to eat a little. So a can of leek and potato soup later I am still alive. I feel drained, fatigued and flat. That is okay though, given time it will pass. Whether I have picked up another bug or am just reacting to the extremely fierce Vietnamese chicken curry I made last night who knows. What I do know is that I'm not up to much.

"Peter Grimes" is playing, the rain is falling, it is gloomy enough to have the lights on, and I'm just sitting it out. Shame really as they are interviewing for a new counsellor at work today and I hoped to meet the candidates. Actually I know 2 of them already but it would have been nice to meet the others.

Who knows, maybe I will lose weight. Or maybe it will go in a day and I will return to my less than healthy way of life. What I do know is that I certainly don't fancy a beer and that is unusual. Until next time.

I Heard a Voice.

Shattered Peace.

Last week was unusually quiet. Yes I was fretting over the funding for my course but eventually we sorted that out. Yet the phone failed to ring, there were only a handful of e mails requesting meetings and I was left rather bewildered. No one really uses the words quiet or peaceful at work. It only takes 1 phone call.

That call came at 10.20 am on Friday. I knew it would come sooner or later. As I responded I knew I was setting in place a chain of events that would inevitably lead to a Mental Health Act assessment. It was a day when I made tough decisions. 7 hours later a young man was safe and fortunately no one was hurt. I hate making those decision but sometimes they are necessary for the good of all. Those are tough days for me.

The weekend nearly complete I am feeling okay about it all. I had my roast pork, the proofs of the cover for "Charon's Ferry" is with me and looking good. Britten is the backdrop to my quiet Sunday. Tomorrow it is once more unto the breach until the next storm breaks. We are up and running.

I will approve the book for publication tomorrow. With luck it should be out in a fortnight or so. Then a celebration I think.

I Heard a Voice.

Autobiography or Memoir?

Way back in 2002 when I started writing "A Pillar of Impotence" I was working in my first post university job at a Further Education College. It was a job that I was over qualified for but it was the only one I could get. All my immediate colleagues were most excited by the prospect of my book. But one day my friend Jill told me that she had mentioned it another colleague who disdainfully dismissed it as "he is too young to write an autobiography". True perhaps but I was never arrogant enough to claim I was writing an autobiography.

In more recent years with the book published and many fine comments I have increasingly come across such books classified as memoirs. Is it that? It certainly recalls events and memories of the past. But the past can still live in the present. On Saturday night I was talking to a friend who is currently reading it. He is hooked but disturbed for I am telling his life. When he started it he looked through the would be eyes of a counsellor to be. Or not to be as he gave up. Now he sees more that it is a book on life gone wrong.

Today I looked up Rick Stein's book "Under a mackerel Sky". That too is described as a memoir. He will certainly sell many more books than me. He is known, he is famous. Can I compare to such a public figure? Not really as I will never be known. But I like the idea of a memoir. My memoirs have not finished yet. If all goes to plan I will have the covers of "Charon's Ferry" this week. Once approved it is a matter of a few weeks. I will drink to that!

I Heard a Voice.

A Pause for Reflection.

Barring the lake and occasional visiting heron next to my office there are few redeeming features to the town in which I work. The real exception though is the original settlement which before the war it was but a village next to a historically significant stately home. That is significant as history tells us that that was where Elizabeth I heard to news of the death of her half sister Mary I and acceded to the throne. I like the old town, is has great feel and some real pubs. Thus it was that after shopping today I spent an hour or so in Horse and Groom drinking Black Sheep ale and reflecting on the last few days. And believe me I needed time to reflect.

The days this week have led me to feel anxiety, rage, despair, and today some mental peace. It has not been easy and the students don't get until this weekend. Rare is the day I make solid plans but those I have made for coming year have been coming apart at the seams. Maybe it my fault, maybe it is a system flaw, maybe it is too complicated. But on this Saturday afternoon I find myself uncertain if I will be able to do my MSc, fearing the onslaught on Monday, and trying to take cheer from the good that did happen on Friday.

Focussing on Friday an extraordinary thing happened and I had sage words from a wise man. Try to think of a good name for a theatre group comprised of people living with mental illness. Can it get any better than "May Contain Nuts"? Yes I met such a theatre company on Friday lunchtime. Not seen them perform but I do hope I can. Sometimes the only way to live with mental illness is to stigmatize oneself. They were great.

Furthermore as they read the notes from the previous meeting 1 asked if it was the same Mark who wrote the book. It was indeed. She raved about it and has also read my blogs for Time to Change. With book sales I always think it is only people humouring me who buy. Yet I had never met this woman and she had come across it. Fame at last?

As for the wise words they came from a man who knows my business inside out. As he put it "you cannot continue to be a one man crisis team forever". He is right and there is a very small chance he can change that. But he not powerful enough. Ultimately a woman I do not know will settle that part of my fate such as it is. But he is right. I have to have change sometime.

The hour in the pub helped and I'm now calm but tired at home making chicken stock and listening to Gilbert and Sullivan. There is lamb, pork, and roast ham on the menu for the next few days. Solace surely will come in my cooking.

I Heard a Voice.

Mid September?

The heat of Seville seems a long time ago now. In fact only 2 weeks have passed since I sweltered in 38 degree heat which seemed to get hotter the later the night went on. Looking out the window early this evening it looks more like November. The rain is pouring down, it is cold, dark, and gloomy. September is often nice in the UK but at the mid point of the month autumn seems to have arrived in all its vigour. Rarely is it this wet now.

With Seville disappearing in my rear view mirror I am back to reality. I didn't go to the university today as I had an induction day for new governors at the Trust. We got an overview of the change that is imminent. It will affect people on both side of the fence. Fence? Yes there is still a gap between them and us. Despite the pressures of changing sides that have been place in past years I still sit firmly on the top of that fence and look both ways. I will forever be a man with a history of mental illness. That cannot change. But I'm now also a provider of services. Others decide if I'm any good at it but I will never change my position as one of us and one of them. My history is just too long.

Now I have seen the vision and motivation behind change we will see what happens. My 3 year post will cover some of the most critical years in recent memory in mental health. At the end I must decide if I want to stand for re-election. Then it is down to the electorate.

We all talk of recovery but that means different things to different people. I got lucky-in the end-by getting sufficiently well to rebuild my life. Can everyone do that? That of course is the great rhetorical question. Narrow models will cause problems and being realistic is essential. Some on the other hand do not want change. Well change is coming like it or not. I cannot stop that. Let us hope it is change for the better.

I Heard a Voice.

A New Face.

I met someone new in the Hedgehog last night. She grew up with my friend Gary and they regard each others as cousins although they are not related. So what you might say? Well she works for Waterstones book shop and has offered to help me with my book sales. What she can or will do I don't know but every little helps.

Today I have felt very tired. Slept properly for the first time since I got back from Spain. It has not been a good holiday for sleep just as happened last year. I shopped and then had a quiet afternoon listening to music and reading. The only thing I have achieved is to put together a Sri Lankan beef curry which is slowly cooking away on the hob. Even ground my own curry powder for it. I'm using the new Indian dried chillies I bought. I have no idea how hot they are so been a little cautious. Let's hope all goes well.

So then on to my final day before the storm. A usual Sunday I think, roast chicken, the Sunday Times, some opera and then an evening of American football. Then it is back to reality. Time always goes so fast when I'm not working. Until next time.

I Heard a Voice.

Not Very Brave!

My trip to market yesterday was a lot fun. And I managed to avoid spending a fortune. Sadly Amber couldn't make it and no word from Beka but Dory and I fought on alone. I returned laden with pigeon, chorizo, sherry vinegar, roasted pimenton, good bacon, Sri Lankan cinnamon and some dried Indian chillies. Yet that was not the most interesting of the discoveries I made. That honour is jointly held by trying Masala Chai for the first time-it was wonderful-and finding the feared ghost chilli. I was not brave enough to buy it but it did look tempting. All in all a great day.

Now it is dull and damp back in Hertfordshire. So it is an afternoon in as I prepare for Monday. What will be in store for me? Nothing too drastic I hope. Last year I ended up having to go the hospital for a student psych assessment on day 1 of induction week! Not a good start. Let us pray for a less hectic beginning given the extras of the MSc and the Trust work. I feel at present I have energy to make it work. Whether that is the case deep in winter when the world is at its darkest and wettest in another idea. I cannot predict the future. But I do feel better than than last year; this time then I was at my lowest ebb for some time. Now I feel good; long may it last.

I Heard a Voice.

Off to Market.

Today all has been quiet. I'm taking it fairly easy before next week. I shopped, ate, pottered, listened to Mozart and continued to plough my way through my governor reading. I have also been stressing after yet another failed attempt to do things on line. If it can go wrong it will with me. Instead of an ungraded browser that I wanted that failed and I ended up downloading a search engine I didn't want which has slowed down my PC even more. I think I will have to phone my friendly IT man at the university. But that can wait.

Tomorrow I'm off to market. Yes my favourite Borough Market trip. I will travel down with the incomparable Dory to meet my new friend Amber and with luck Beka too. What delights await us I don't know. But we are very close to the mushroom season, I need chorizo and good sherry vinegar; the rest will be a bonus. I will be laden ready for the cooler climes of autumn. Yes after what has been out best summer since 2006 autumn has definitely arrived here in the UK.

My mood is holding, around +1 I suppose. Not where I want it but it will do. How much it is challenged in the coming weeks is up for debate. I feel more prepared than last year. I have a little plan which might come to fruition-we shall see.

So here is to market, good produce and a few more days off work.

I Heard a Voice.

Hunting Ghosts.

A shade over 48 hours have passed since I landed back in England. We made it through Spain in 1 piece and got back safely. Dad never did find his lost medication. For me it was break away from it all. Particularly from the nightmares. But guess what? As soon as I got back they returned. Oh for a life without dreaming.

I dreamt very little in Spain but 1 did come that I was expecting. Rare is the day that I dream of the girl I call Rachel in my books. She has been mentioned on here before. I had a very specific reason for going to Granada in particular and that was that it was in that city in 1990 that I met Rachel. It was 4 months before the earthquake that engulfed my life. An earthquake instigated by Rachel. Late on in "Charon's Ferry" I state that I would return to Granada 1 day and now it is gone.

I have spent 23 years hunting my ghosts. I can never really catch them but with each challenge I take the impact of my past diminishes. Many people talk of time healing. I don't think it heals but it does change us. What was important back then is less now. What seemed irrelevant then may be really relevant. Time marches on for all of us and I have now seen the birthplace of my madness.

Without that madness there would be no job, no blog, and no books. Perhaps my life would have been more dull had the path been different. It was the actions of others that propelled me down this route. Eventually I found a way through and my students will say they are grateful for that.

In a week I will be back in the melee. Already the diary is filling up but I will worry about that then. For now I will cook, read, watch, and sleep. This afternoon's attempted masterpiece is Dong Po pork. Think I have messed it up already but there we go, sometimes it does go wrong.

I Heard a Voice.

Prohibido Fumar!

"A tiger? In Africa?" "The Meaning of Life is not my favourite Monty Python film but it does contain that 1 immortal line. We would indeed be shocked to come across a tiger in Africa. Frightened too probably. But coming across the unexpected is part of life. Now on my 7th trip to Spain I have seen it all-smoking is banned! I had heard this but had been told that everyone ignored the ban. Alas not. I cannot smoke anywhere but in the street.

I'm writing from Granada. It is warm and pleasant. We are on the last day of what has been a marvellous holiday. The difference between now and when I first visited is my fear of heights. And by God was I terrified driving through the mountains to get to Ronda and again today at the Alhambra. But it has been worth it; we have had a lot of fun.

The recession has hit them hard here and it is reflected in the prices; most things have at least doubled in price since I last visited in 2006. Almost out of money but we head home tomorrow.

In my next post I will write about the emotional reasons for coming here. That is so important here in Granada. For last time I was here it was but a few months before my illness struck. In fact it had its roots here. But you will have to wait for that blog.

So for now adios-I will blog again from Hertfordshire tomorrow.

I Heard a Voice.

Restless and Anxious.

There is a definite feeling of the day after today. Yes yesterday was my birthday. I went out with friends to eat and had a few in the pub. Maybe a few too many. Didn't feeling hungover but been restless, listless and anxious all day. I don't know what to do with myself. As each hour passes we move closer to Spain.

We are being picked up at 4.30 am so I will have very little sleep. Those who have read this for a while will know the link between sleep and my illness. But my anxiety is not confined to that. After 2 courses of antibiotics my leg still hasn't recover. I live in fear it will flare up again in Spain.

All in all not my best day but in 24 hours I will be in the sunshine of Spain and with luck the anxiety will have diffused.

See you all when I get back next weekend.

I Heard a Voice.

An Odd Urge.

The weirdest urge came over me today. Well maybe not odd to many but odd to me. I had an urge for pizza. I have no idea why pizza is so loved around the world. True the pizza I had when I sang in Florence in 1987 was stunning. But I'm never found the like again anywhere else. Yet today I fancied it.

So I took myself off to Prezzo for a rare venture into Italian food. And very good it was too. Accompanied by a pint of Peroni followed by a splendid cappuccino I passed a couple of hours of my holiday. On my return I listened to Puccini and finally finished reading "Three Men in a Boat". I enjoyed it despite taking months to complete-I really must do more reading.

Tonight I returned to more normal territory with a home made Keema Mutter. Tragically disappointing, I can't remember a more bland curry in a long time. Note to self, more jaggery and more salt next time. Later I'm off to the pub quiz, that's usually fun too.

And what of tomorrow? Things domestic I fear, must get it done before dad gets here on Saturday. Talking of dad, I must ring him. Until next time.

I Heard a Voice.

A Moroccan Adventure.

The sun is shining, it's Bank Holiday Monday and I have no work for 3 weeks. That must be a reason to celebrate. My mood is better but not up to +2 as it had been recently. But I can cope with that.

Faced with what to do I thought a trip to the country was in order. So I set off with my friend Richard to the nearby village of Welwyn and consumed a pint of excellent Bombardier ale at the White Hart. As I was driving I left it at that and returned in time for afternoon tea. All very civilised.

What was left was trying to decide what to eat. So a chicken leg is currently braising in a tagine with ginger, coriander, cumin, parley, garlic and olive oil with onions and tomatoes. The book suggested olives but I don't like then so am going for another flavour in dates. It is a bit of an adventure but the Moroccan taste for sweet and savoury is growing on me.

Miriam and Beka have both been to Marrakesh in the last couple of years. One day I must go. Just watched Keith Floyd there in the market; it all looks so wonderful.

After dinner maybe it is time to turn once again to Mozart, not listened for a while. Happy holiday everyone in the UK. I will be back tomorrow.

I Hard a Voice.

The Historic Run Chase.

So it all ends. England's chase for a historic 4-0 win in the Ashes fell just 21 runs short as darkness came. A sad end perhaps but another great summer of cricket. That heralds the end of another summer. There are but 5 days until my birthday and 7 until September. The Ashes battles starts again at Brisbane in November and I move on in my life.

Am I still wishing my life away? Isn't that what we all do as we all crave for pay day when money runs out? Time runs fast and slow. It gets quicker as we get older. But there is probably a long way to go.

This time next week I will be in Spain. There is some anxiety as dad is not well so hoping for a speedy recovery. Both of us have been looking forward to this for a long time.

Mood wise I have been less flat today but not near the recent heights. More nightmares and missed sleep. Why am I afflicted by them so often? I don't know. Maybe my unquiet mind is not as quiet as I like to tell myself. Whatever else I still have my illness, my pills and my age old flaws. Yet in the main I get by.

Bring on the autumn. The NFL season starts a week on Thursday. I'll have to record that as I'm away. After that my busy year. I still have anxiety but I am not where I was year ago. Mid September was the lowest ebb I had known for a long time. Here's to a better autumn!

I Heard a Voice.

Wet and Warm.

As I look out the window the rain is hammering down. It has been like that most of the day. Not much chance of any play in the 5th Test at the Oval today. That said it is warm outside. A warm wet late summer's day. It reminds me very much of that day 6 years ago this week that I first visited the town I now call home looking for somewhere to live. That summer was a washout and I vividly recall my anxiety as I stood in the pouring rain waiting for the agent. That flat never work out long term and I'm now in my 5th year living in this flat.

My mood today very much matches the rain; I feel very flat. I'm not sure why but given the evidence of cigarette butts in my ashtray it was a bad night. I had respite from the nightmares on Thursday but not last night. Bad dreams usually means a bad start.

I wandered into town to shop then out into the country to visit the Waggoners pub for a pint of IPA. Given that there is little prospect of watching any cricket my mind turned to music. But what? Puccini, Handel, Britten, and Pink Floyd all came to mind. That combination reflects the eclectic nature of my mind today. I settled for Handel in the end and the Messiah is playing forth very clearly. Now I think I will read, got very behind on the Jerome K Jerome as I seem to have done with all recent books. It is a slow day. Let's hope tomorrow picks up.

I Heard a Voice.

War and Peace.

Early on Monday morning peace and tranquility reigned down at the lake. There were no birds, no dragonflies, no wasps, no flies, and no sign of the heron. There was no sign of fish either, large or small. Just quiet. Nothing stirred and there was no ripple on the water. For a few minutes I marvelled at the quiet of nature. Would it be an omen for the week?

Sadly not. Every night this week the nightmares have returned and my sleep has been uneasy and broken. It is like being in a state of extreme agitation and anxiety. Strange thing is I have no idea why. Is it the coming of my holiday? Last year was marred by such interruptions. Or is it my elevated mood? If anything will bring me down and potentially send me into free-fall it is bad sleep. God I hope not.

Tomorrow I will leave, close my door, and try to forget the impending storm. The storm will come; of that I'm sure. If my mood holds I will be fine. If not I could be in trouble. Is it too much to do the MSc, work, and be governor? We will find out.

For now though I relax at home and relish the end of yet another long journey. With luck when I come home from Spain the first copy "Charon's Ferry" will be lying on my doormat. Now that will fuel the mood. Here is hoping.

I Heard a Voice.

Cultural Terror.

When I was the train to London yesterday I thought I was in for a spectacular afternoon of culture followed by a fine dinner with friends. I have seen the Royal Albert Hall on TV dozens of times but never really given any thought to what it is really like inside. Making my way through the tube I made it with time to spare. Little did I know I was in for an afternoon of sheer terror. Climbing the stairs there was no feeling of impending doom. That all changed as I emerged into the seating area on the 3rd tier. Before me a sheer drop. Very steep banks of seats looked top heavy and so exposed. Fighting my way through those already seated I was already sweating, dizzy, and heart racing. It is not a place for people with a fear of heights.

I barely moved a muscle for the next 2 1/2 hours. I was simply too terrified. At the interval I stayed put and dared not look down. But gradual my body and mind slowed down. Soothed by sublime music I made it through without running. And what music. The exception was the Verdi where they had not done the balance check well as I could barely hear the soprano about the orchestra. With the Tchaikovsky I heard her at here best-brilliant.

The descent at the end was terrifying but I had made it.. What followed was a splendid evening of food and drink with Katherine and Sonya. We also had surprise visitor, another of our teaching friends Antony. A splendid day.

As I sit peacefully on this Sunday afternoon, Mozart plays quietly, the pork is slow roasting and I'm doing very little. There is 1 week to go at work. Then I'm off. This time in 2 weeks I will be in the heat of Spain. Finally a holiday after a 7 year gap. I very much need it. Recharge then back into the fray in a month. Who knows what dark, trying, or divine moments lie ahead next year. What I do know is I'm in a much better place now than I was last year. Long may that last.

I Heard a Voice.

Special Offer!

If any of you reading in the UK are interested and don't have a copy already, my first book "A Pillar of Impotence" is currently on offer:

http://www.amazon.co.uk/A-Pillar-Impotence-Mark-Edgar/dp/1849913951/ref=pd_rhf_gw_p_t_3_0CWX

The follow up "Charon's Ferry" has been delayed again, maybe out in September.

I Heard a Voice.

A Semi Definite Plan.

It is but 2 weeks until I turn 44. With that comes the end of the summer. My question to myself is where on earth has it gone? Usually in the quiet of July and August the time drags slowly. Not this year. Too much catching up to do. So it is nearly over.

This time a year ago I was desperately trying to get out. A year on I'm still here. There is however now a definite plan. Well definite as long as I can secure funding. I have committed to the university for 1 more year by being accepted on the MSc in Mental Health Practice. After that it will depend on how the cards fall.

All that and the governor election have propelled my mood upwards. Long may it stay there but no to the feared mania.

The weekend is now here and once again I'm off on my travels. Tomorrow's destination is the Royal Albert Hall. I was 3 years old last time I was there. The event is my first ever prom. A serious musician (well retired) never having been to a prom? Well there you go. I will be treated to a medley of Dvorak, Verdi, Tchaikovsky and Stauss. I hope it is good. Then on to the Porcupine to meet my friends Katherine and Sonya before a venture to my beloved Chinatown-hurrah!

More on Sunday.

I Heard a Voice.

Spreading the Word.

Every now and again I get asked to do talks about my work. Usually that is within the context of the University but sometimes also outside. I never know what will be expected, asked, or what other people's agendas are. But I'm a good improviser. So I will take any questions people care to ask. Of the many that are asked of me there are 3 that are almost impossible to answer. Why don't I know about you? What do I do if the help doesn't help? Why don't we do more campaigning? At a talk today I was asked all 3.

In terms of answering those on here please note it is with caution. As someone said to me recently is it really a good idea that you put the link to this blog on Linkedin? But I will try.

1. I have no idea why people don't know about me. I'm in all the literature. I blog. I've been on student radio. I do induction talks. I teach. People recommend me. People see my picture following the 2 awards that weren't. Short of sending a personal e mail to 27,000 and 3,000 staff it is impossible to be known by all. Even if I was known to all many would have no interest, need, or in more extreme cases want to tell me to fuck off.

2. I can only refer, I cannot take responsibility for others not being helpful. Let's face it most of those who "treated" me for all those years were pretty useless. That doesn't mean to say they are bad people or they don't care. Maybe they just don't know the answers. This is as true of internal as well as external services. Some are good some less so. Yet I too am guilty of not being helpful to everyone. But not of us is God. We do not know all the answers. We can only do the best we can.

3. As for campaigning, by God have we tried. The result is usually no interest. I have spent a lot of time trying to do something for men's mental health. But no one showed up on the day. I am not a campaigner. If I were I might be a PR guru rather than a lowly MH advisor. Young people do not want to talk to a middle aged man about a message that doesn't interest them. Even Time to Change with all their resources have realistically low expectations on how many people's opinions they can change. What I can do is blog, be open, write, and talk. The real message must come from the young people themselves. In reality most fail as they only get to preach to the converted. Why would anyone have an interest in mental health unless they needed to? I certainly wasn't before I got ill.

I have little idea beyond numbers and places of who reads my blog. Well apart from my dad and a few friends. Do I help people on here? I don't know. But by doing it I am being honest and spreading the word to the best of my ability.

If you read either of my books you will realise how exposing I am in them. Few others would risk being open. But I didn't write them to make money or to be important. They are about spreading a message that says this is my story and I survived. That was not expected in the mid 1990s. If that inspires so be it. The same with my talks.

I wish every practitioner could help everyone they meet. But that won't happen. None of us is perfect.

Not sure if that is classed a rant. It wasn't intended that way. Today has not been my best day on a number of levels but tomorrow is another day, the sun will rise, and I will go out and do my best.

I Heard a Voice.

Savage Nature.

On Thursday and Friday I was able to witness the heron at the lake hunting for the first time. The lake if full of huge fish, far too big for the heron. But there are small fry too. Wading into the water the beautiful bird stood in perfect stillness before striking. The cycle of nature for all its savagery can be can be a marvel to behold.

Also hunting were the wasps. They have come late this year. I'm told gardeners like them as they hunt aphids but I can't stand them. Wasps and flies are the worst part of the summer. Yet soon it will be autumn and away it will all go, disappearing into the gloom that awaits us.

The lake aside Thursday and Friday were mixed for me. Thursday was marvellous although it meant saying goodbye to one of my nicest students. As I know she is reading, all I can say is well done-you have come so far in so short a time. Yesterday I came home feeling somewhat flat. It had been an odd day. I don't like it when I come away on a Friday thinking of the day and replaying it. In the evening I went to the Hedgehog but was largely distracted.

Today I feel okay, mood a little up, not too manic and achieved a few things. Haircut, shopping and cleaning-dull but necessary. I won't cook tonight but will finish my Vietnamese chicken curry that has been infusing for a couple of days. It was very fine first time around although it needed more chilli; I will add some later. Tomorrow I will cook Guinea fowl for the first time-let's hope it turns out well. More soon.

I Heard a Voice.

Delving Into a Tudor Past.

As I write I am listening to Byrd's 3 part mass. I have not sung that since touring Andalusia at Easter 1988. For the past decade or so I have slowly been trying to collect all the recordings I did at King's on CD. Not quite ventured into the iPod/download world yet. Alll of those recordings are at least 30 years old. Result, some are hard to find.

A few weeks ago with much delight I found at a good price the 3 Tudor Masses that I recorded back in 1980 and 1981. It were delivered this week. King's a had thing about Tudor and Renaissance music at the time as we had recorded Palestrina's Ave Maria Mass just prior to that. Today I listened to the Tallis Puer Natus Est, sometimes known as the Christmas Mass, and Byrd's 5 part Mass. All great classics but we feared singing them. Why? Well they are very long, long and difficult. In fact the first time we performed the Tallis it all collapsed. Yes even the greatest of choirs collapse sometimes. At the time though it didn't seem difficult, 5, 6, and indeed 7 part Masses. The 7 parter of Tye Euge Bone I listened to yesterday.

I listen now as someone approaching 44 with a greater understanding of the words, the music, and the history of the time. Funny what we learn with age. Bernie Rosen whom I've mentioned before on here once said to me "I think everyone should go to Cambridge but not until they are at least 40". In retrospect he was right. That was about all he was right about.

The music of the Tudors has been my backdrop to 2 markedly different days. Yesterday it seemed everything that could go wrong did. All were small things save some fool accidentally walking off with my medication from the chemist. Given that I had completely run out of the Holy Grail of risperidone it was a few minutes of extreme anxiety. Today was much better although it led to another trip to the chemist for antibiotics. So am on them for a week.

Mentally my mood remains high but not dangerous. Yesterday was just an aberration. Tomorrow will be good. Now to make shepherd's pie and listen further to glories of Byrd-check him out, he is very fine.

I Heard a Voice.

PS The Vietnamese chicken with ginger, honey and 5 spice I cooked earlier was most definitely a triumph!

Thank Goodness for Teenagers.

On Wednesday I finally entered the 21st century by getting an iPhone. All sounds very grand but I was fearful I would not know how to use it. But friends had told me they were easy. Going away at the weekend to a wedding made me not look in earnest at what it could do. What I had forgotten about would be the presence of teenagers. They are as a group much maligned. I recall my teenage years as being lonely, frightening and in the main unhappy. Glad I'm not one now as it seems society likes to put on them the root of all evils. But there is one thing I know of teenagers, they know technology.

I have known my friend Laura for 19 years. She was the first of my friends to have a child. Ashleigh turned 13 in July. Of course as soon as she saw my iPhone she wanted to play with it. After some reluctance she agreed not to play games but to set it up for various things. Thank God she did. Even she had trouble and after much annoyance I can now do more on it. I still have trepidation using it but that will dissipate in time.

The wedding was enjoyable although Ali the bride was very anxious. I stayed until 11.30 pm before tiredness overtook me. I got home this afternoon to cricket, the rain will save us, slow roast lamb cooking as I write, and a fine pint of Doombar with friends.

3 weeks to go. It remains quiet although I have had a couple of unexpected visitors. When I'm off that becomes someone else's problem. I need a break and with luck I can carry of my recent high mood through to the autumn. If it is anything like last year I will need it.

I Heard a Voice.

Pink Champagne on Ice.

Way back in 1994 during the height of my madness I was sent for 4 months to a specialist unit in London for intensive in-patient treatment. Leading that so called treatment was the eminent psychiatrist Bernie Rosen. A vain, clever, and arrogant man what stood out was his belief that he was always right and only he knew the way forward. If a patient chose to leave against his wishes he would ensure they didn't get treatment anywhere else. As a result I quickly christened the unit the Hotel California after the iconic Eagles song. "You can check out any time you like but you can never leave". Well I did leave and proved him wrong.

I do like the Eagles although I have never seen them perform. Not listened for a while either but last night as I drank pink champagne in a London hotel I thought back to song. "Pink champagne on ice, we are just prisoners here of our own device". I rarely drink champagne for  2 reasons: it gives me heartburn; and I can't afford it. Yet seeing old and wealthy friends from long ago was a lot of fun.

Back to the reality of a quiet Sunday now. I have listened to Don Giovanni and am now listening to Mozart arias. All very pleasant. Later I will roast a small joint of gammon and drink the rioja given me by one of my departing students. So quickly the hours will tick by until yet another Monday comes round. But the countdown is on, only 4 more weeks of work before a long and well deserved rest.

I'm anticipating the proofs of "Charon's Ferry" next week. If I were to estimate I should have the first copy in 2 weeks. Then we must party!

I Heard a Voice.

The Pub, a Dying Breed.

Many a time I have extolled the virtues of that British institution the pub on here. In truth though, they are dying out. Many country pubs have gone. Some blame the government for the heavy tax. It is right that we have robust laws against drink driving but that has done the country pub no good. Since the smoking ban in 2007 the closure rate has increased. When I left Kent that year there were many pubs in my old town; now there are 3 fewer. But what of the popular town centre pubs? Surely if they are busy they must be safe? Apparently not. It was with great sadness that I learned last night the pub that served as my second home when I moved up here is to close. In its place will be yet another bar/restaurant. The food had better be good or I won't be going in there. I do hope the Hedgehog will survive.

On other notes it is finally cooling off after our longest heatwave in 7 years. The air is more tolerable and it is easier to sleep. But it has given us all a burst of enthusiasm, finally a summer to remember.

Along side that my buoyant mood remains. Not manic just good. I have decided that I will commit to another year at the University. There remains the issue of pay but in the absence of anything better I have now filled in the paperwork to undertake the MSc in Mental Health Practice. I can do it in a year and assuming they agree to pay we will go ahead. After that there will be change. Whether that helps more or not I do not know. If it doesn't then I go back to my job search. Something will turn up one day.

Late this afternoon I received a very important e mail. The proofs of "Charon's Ferry" will be with me next week. I had hoped to get them today but alas no. If all is well then we may be looking at publication of the paperback in the next couple of weeks. Then I can really celebrate.

Over the next few weeks I have drinks in London, a wedding, and a Prom to go and see. The latter was courtesy of an old school friend who had a ticket but will be on holiday. We had a fine meal in Chinatown last night. Not my usual place but excellent if a little pricey. 4 more weeks of work then the holiday-hurrah!

I Heard a Voice.

Glorious Sun, Glorious Food, and Glorious Music!

Every now and again in cold, wet, dark England the summer comes. It has not been here since 2006. But now it has come back with a vengeance! It is nearly midnight and it is 27 degrees. We have had the highest temperatures today since that last summer. The humidity to is up there with warmer climes and we are melting in the heat. It is fantastic!

We English are good at beating ourselves up. Yet what a summer. Murray (admittedly not English) wins at Wimbledon in 50 degrees. We thumped Australia in the Ashes at Lord's. And a royal baby is born. Sometimes we English do things well.

I spent the weekend in an English country village near Cambridge. I roasted an English local chicken stuffed with garden grown sage, rosemary, and thyme with English potatoes. Result, stunning. The finest I have ever cooked. Oh how I yearn for good produce at the butcher I can't access and the fruit and veg shop that long since ceased to exist where I live. A couple of pints of local ale in a Cambridge pub I'd not been to for 20 years sealed it. Sometimes we are good.

On a bakingly hot day I listened the Edward Elgar on the way to and from work today. Has there ever been a finer recording than Du Pre's of Elgar's Cello Concerto? I suspect not. I know she is not English but it is an English piece.

And what of me? I too am feeling glorious. Mood is up but not manic. My life after 2 years of unhappiness and uncertainty now has a direction. Where it will lead me I don't know. But I'm out of the darkness and long may it continue-no extra risperidone needed now.

Here is to tomorrow, tropical storms and 28 degrees; now that has been a long time coming!

I Heard a Voice.

An Epic Win!

What a test match! It has been such a tense day as England battled with Australia in the Ashes. Finally I can relax as England won by 14 runs. I'm getting too old for this and I'm only a spectator. God knows what it was like for the players!

It's another hot sunny day. The dreariness and cold of early summer seems to have gone. I wonder how long this will go on? As the cricket went on much longer than I anticipated I have not listened to any opera today. But Ali and Gary are coming for dinner tonight so I fear I may have to put on some Puccini. The shoulder of pork will go into the oven at 3 pm for a 30 minute burn, then slow roast for another 3 hours-heaven!

Tomorrow looks calm. I have one student coming then back to those stupid cards. In 2 1/2 days I have done 63, only 47 to go. I still ask the question, whose need does this serve? Certainly not mine.

Next test starts on Thursday, it could be mighty summer. Then when the autumn comes it is back to the NFL. There are rumblings that my beloved Rams may move back to LA-can't wait! Back where they belong.

I Heard a Voice.

An Enforced Absence.

My sincerest apologies for being away from here for so long. It was certainly not intended. The plan had been to blog on Wednesday after my dad had left to go to Germany. I had a post entitled "The Missing Mania" planned. Then disaster. Every time I went to write it came up with error so I couldn't click into the text box. As you all know I'm not very confident when it comes to technology so I was stumped. Is it easy to contact Google? Is it fuck. But I did find a forum and someone suggested changing browsers. I tried on my Chrome this afternoon and it worked. So here I am back again.

What a week in this country. A heat wave has accompanied Andy Murray winning at Wimbledon. Scorching temperatures and fine sunshine has adorned each day and an epic test match is being fought out at Trent Bridge. Surely England must win from here. And me? Well the mood has been flying.

I'm still trying to come to terms with my election to the Council of Governors with HPFT. Potentially it is huge. But that is daunting. I will find out more about what is expected of me on Wednesday. At the AGM on Saturday I will formally become a governor. I will not be there to see it as I will be in Cambridge. After that who knows where my life will go.

In the meantime I need to keep an eye on my mood. Don't want it getting out of control. But life in some ways is looking up.

I Heard a Voice.

Call Me Governor!

Hi all, I'm back. The sun is shining, I've been to 2 BBQs and I'm off to a 60th birthday party tonight. All sound good? Well it didn't look that way on Friday.

On Friday morning I woke early to a blinding headache, churning stomach, and severe nausea. Not good at all. I called in sick at work and went back to bed. I must have been ill as I slept for another 3 hours without the aid of medication. Not a good start.

The symptoms did begin to ease and late on I decided to take the risk of the jounrey to Kent to see my dad. Then the world changed.

A cursory glance at my work e mail brought me news I was not expecting. I have been elected to the Board of Governors of Hertfordshire Partnership Foudnation Trust. I was stunned. I never thought I would get elected. But elected I was and now the nutter no one wanted to listen to has got into a place of power. Oh how my world has changed.

Part 2

The above was written yesterday but a technical error meant it didn't publish. So onto today's post.

What a weekend for British sport! The Lions rampaged all over the Wallabies and now Andy Murray's glorious victory at Wimbledon. I'm not much of a fan of tennis but it was exciting watching the last few games when I got back from my dad's.

So I face another week as the summer grinds on. In the few weeks I'm headed for Seville and Granada then it is back to the mayhem. I guess in between times I will learn what is expected of me with HPFT.

I Heard a Voice.

PS And here is to England thumping Australia in the 1st test on Wednesday-the Ashes are back!

Death by Yellow Card.

My friend Madeline poses a rather interesting question when it comes to bureaucracy. Whose need does it serve? That just about sums up my day today. It was a day on which I spent many hours completing forms that serve no purpose for me or my students.

One of the realities of modern life is that we have to find some system of recording what we do. When I came here in 2007 no one had done my job before so there were no systems in place. So I devised a simple electronic set of data collections that were easy to use and covered what I do. It is my no means perfect but it is exceedingly accessible and does reflect the chaos of my life. For the students it stands as an accurate assessment of their interactions with me. So it serves the purposes of both of us.

When I was forcibly moved departments in 2010 I kept going the way I had always done things. Why would I want to switch to a labourious paperbased system that makes no sense to anyone except those who devised it? And guess who those people were? It was devised by counsellors for counsellors. Why it is so complex I have no idea. Perhaps they want to hide behind too much information? Or maybe they just want to baffle the reader? But I pose the same question, who does it benefit?

In the 3 mainly unhappy years since I moved increasing pressure has been put on me to integrate with them. So this year I have been forced to use the infamous yellow card system. When we paid a lot of money to an organisational consultant for our annual navel gazing exercise she seemed as baffled by it all as I am. Will we grind to a halt without yellow cards? We are moving to a new system next year but I'm still being forced to fill them in which benefits neither me nor my students. I have spent all day today doing it and am not even half way through yet. I have no idea what the codes mean without a code breaking sheet (it is several pages long) and much of what I do simply isn't covered in it.

Has it been a useful deployment of my time? I guess only others can tell me that. But what I do know is that it won't be like this for ever. If I remain here, in a couple of years time I'm hoping yellow cards will be banished to some storage facility and forgotten.

And by the way, after I have transferred data from my database to the cards, someone else has to spend many weeks inputting it into another database. I'm glad it is not me!