A Small Change.

Back before Christmas I received a very aggressive and formal letter demanding on pain of contempt of court proceedings and £1000 fine that I go to St Albans Crown Court on 2nd January to do jury service. I actually rather relished the idea but did not want my holiday interrupted by a call on such a ridiculous day to open a court.

Furthermore I was required to fill in a form again on pain of punishment. This form required me to declare any "disorder of the mind". I filled in the form and another letter duly arrived. I was politely told to fuck off. Whilst I was pleased to be able have my holiday as planned I did found it most insulting. Given the recent retrial order in the Vicky Price case surely any jury could have used someone as educated as me? But it wasn't to be. You ask why?

Well there is a law dating from Elizabethan times which say something along the lines of "fools, idiots, and lunatics" are banned from parliament, juries etc. I have been aware of such a ridiculous law for years but always felt I was safe as I had never been put on a section 3. But I was wrong.

Today, the Mental Health (Discrimination) Act received royal assent and we are on our way to repealling this utterly stigmatising law. It will come into force later. Maybe today the world moved on a little.

My dad rang me very worried after my last post. Whilst I remain vulnerable today has been a better day. The anger has gone and I'm able to think more clearly. I did some good today. Now it is another evening. Wondering how to use up my leftover duck I made a very tasty spicy Cambodian salad. And very good is was too. Tomorrow I'm lunching with my former head of department and our amazing chaplain. Then it is the train north to Cambridge to see Jayne. It will not be straightforward as once again I will face the dragon we buried in December; I wonder if anyone will give me a memorial service? Doubt it, I'm not famous enough!

Won't blog again until next week-see you then.

I Heard a Voice.

Deceiving the Deceiver.

Sometimes it is good to wait. Had I blogged yesterday I might not have liked it the next day. Certainly others would not have liked it but last night I didn't give a fuck about them. It had been a day of deceit and delusion, of isolation and flashback. I recalled how appalling "therapy" was. I put that in inverted commas because in reality it was a complete fucking joke. Now in the world of smoke and mirrors where nothing is quite how it seems I must beware. The question is who is the deceiver and delusionist? The cretins who "treated" me always believed it was me. But they were wrong. I am who I am and if people can't handle that they are fools. It was not a good day.

A year ago I relapsed, then there was a suicide, then there was mum, and then a whole host of other deaths. Now it feels the time is ripe for relapse once again. Yet as I sit listening to Mendelssohn's Midsummernight's Dream the rage that always seems to drive madness is at least partially assuaged. It occurred to me recently that for most that is the trigger to relapse, pure rage. Others may disagree but I have been at this for years and it comes time and again. In October I spent 2 hours convincing a raging, troubled and suicidal girl that is wasn't worth dying because some arrogant deceiver had enraged her. I saw her again today. It has not been a good week for her either but she is far from where she was.

I wonder what she would say about my power to treat mental illness? Apparently I am not qualified or skilled enough to do so. All I say is talk the scores that I have helped that no one else could and you will get an answer. They are my judges not the arrogant ones who live in their own world. If you stay indoors the world will not come to you. I stayed indoors too long but I did go and find the world in the end.

So my madness teeters on the cusp of returning but I will do all I can to stop it .Even if sometimes I don't know why I bother.

I Heard a Voice.

Where Have I Been?

I guess some you may be wondering where I have been. It is 6 days since my last post on here. That post was not a good one, Monday was a low day. Strange thing is I have no idea why. The week did get a little better and my mood is now more stable.

In reality this week has been quite busy which has kept me away from here. But it is now a Sunday and Don Giovanni is accompanying my afternoon reading. A duck is on the top in the kitchen rising to room temperature before I roast it later. It was very good value at £7 and I intend to stuff if with oranges-a nice flavour. Then of course there will be potatoes roasted in duck fat-heavenly. Not sure about the vegetables yet.

I can't be bothered to look at next week's diary until tomorrow-better not to know sometimes. But I am looking forward to going to my beloved Cambridge next weekend-I will see many old faces. Cambridge always looks after its own. See you all in the week.

I Heard a Voice.

I'm Writing Off Today.

It has not been a good day. Ever had enough by 11 am? Today I did. I feel low, empty, listless and tired. Strange thing is I do not know why. Maybe it was 2 consecutive nights of nightmares. Almost had a panic attack in my sleep in the early hours of this morning; not had one of those for years.

So where next? I'm home now with a beer and no thoughts of work. Actually I have no thoughts at all which became oh so familiar during my relapse almost exactly a year ago. I hope my mood lifts soon. I don't think I am relapsing as nothing in particular has happened. But who knows with mental illness.

Tomorrow I will meet with an academic who wants to involve me in yet another project I have no time to do. On Friday I teach-that should pick me up. But until I will just take each hour at a time; that is all any of us can do when life appears doomed.

I Heard a Voice.

A Memorial.

Today dad, Miriam and Nigel have gone to the crematorium with a plant for mum's grave. I've not been back since we interred the ashes last year-must try and rectify that when I'm next down. For my part I am still in gloomy Hertfordshire where I have barely glimpsed the sun all day doing domestic tedium. The eminent psychiatrist Bernie Rosen once told me that the domestic tedium was the nitty gritty of life. Has to be done sometimes so having been away the last 2 weekends in a row I set about making my flat nicer. Made some progress but a way to go.

I spent last night my fellow blogger Izzy. She came to interview me for a radio piece she is putting together on voice hearing. She will also interview my friend and far more famous activist Emma Harding. We had fun and ended the evening in the Fu Hao. She also offered to do a short film to put on Youtube to publicise my books; that should be fun.

Tonight once again I'm out then tomorrow a return to my kitchen with some fine looking shoulder of pork. After that, all too quickly it will be back to the chaos of work. I need at least 2 days to catch up but there is no chance of that happening now. Maybe one day.

Until the next time.

I Heard a Voice.

A Blanket of Snow.

Today I went for a drive in the country. Well actually I was driven out into the countryside of rural Hertfordshire by a colleague in his Range Rover. I certainly wouldn't have risked the snow covered roads. Yes, once again the snow has descended on my part of the world. It was so beautiful out there, fields and woods all draped in white. The place we went to had been built on the site of an old country house that burned down years ago. Such houses seem to dot the landscape around here. I wonder how many lottery winners buy such places and get utterly depressed by the new found emptiness of their lives; lives where they can trust no one and everyone is after their money? I doubt I will ever be such a person.

Our trip was fruitless in the end but it was nice to escape the confines of my cluttered office and frenetic pace of new referrals I am getting. But it was this afternoon that was more interesting. Sometimes I come face to face with my past-today was one such day. I spent the whole of my last year at Cambridge psychotically depressed. The only cheer in my life was my American football. Contact sports can be very good to lift the failing mood.

I met a young man today in the same predicament that I faced all those years ago. I had no one to turn to but he has me. Am I up to the task? I do hope so as he is struggling so much. Despite my experience each new student brings that question, what if I can't help? As ever only time will give us an answer to that.

Now home I supped on roast chicken and am slowly drinking a chilled glass of Sicilian white. In the background the rest of Peter Grimes is playing. Tomorrow we go back as I do each day until April. Then and only then will it slow down. Until tomorrow.

I Heard a Voice.

A Hidden Gem.

It is over 30 years since my passion for East Asian food was fuelled by touring Hong Kong and Japan. Actually the latter was hugely disappointing as it looked great but tasted bland. When I went to Cambridge in 1988 I spent far too much in Charlie Chan's particularly after a small legacy came my way a year later. Then of course I went mad.

If you have read "A Pillar of Impotence" you will recall the desperate battle I had with so little money. As a result I sought out cheap places. Chinatown then was cheap but not so much now. After I met the karate guys in 1995 I was introduced to what I have always considered the finest Chinese food I ever ate outside of Hong Kong. If you had walked past the Hi Tin in Tontine Street Folkestone in those days you would probably have passed it by. But if you went in and met Michael Lo and has wife Lisa you were in for a treat. And it cost next to nothing. Sadly it is no more as they retired a few years ago.

During the equally desperate search for a teaching job around 2000-2002, I often stayed with my friend Beth when she lived in Hackney. There we discovered another obscure gem on Mare Street. Go to the Hai Ha if you are there and feast on splendid Vietnamese fare.

Now I still seek good food but at a good price. I was down with Beka this weekend to design the cover of "Charon's Ferry". On Friday we discovered the most sublime Pan Asia food I have ever eaten-and it was dirt cheap. Zaibastu at 96 Trafalgar Road Greenwich is a must for foodies-just go! Stunning sushi, noodles, ribs, squid and what I ordered, much to the surprise of my companions, marinated eel was simply sublime. I will definitely go again.

It was a good weekend and my mood lifted to +2 for the first time in several months. Maybe the change did me good. And there is the makings of fine cover design. Beka will do more detailed work in the next few days so we are a step closer to the paperback emerging.

Off to Fu Hao now to celebrate the Chinese New Year, too cold, and not conducive with an overnight back to attend the festivities in Chinatown. More soon.

I Heard a Voice.

The Light Returns.

For the last couple of days I have noticed for the first time the days getting lighter. As I drive home at 5 pm it is definitely just dusk now rather than darkness. Is that a good sign? Who knows. What I do know is that mood wise I find February and March quite hard. It has been so long since I had any of my mini highs. I have not recovered my energy or drive. Work is now just work. Mental health is no longer an all consuming passion. Is the world of mental health worse off for that? That is for others to decide.

Tomorrow I head for the UMHAN meeting in London. A time to catch up with equally isolated and underpaid colleagues from other universities. It's usually a good day. Then it is off to Beka's. With luck the cover for the paperback of "Charon's Ferry" will be complete by Sunday. The question is will anyone buy it? Once again only others can decide that.

Talking of books a colleague gave me the price of the first book today having borrowed it from someone else. Very kind but really not necessary. It seems to have opened her eyes though so maybe all is not lost.

I will blog again when I get back from London. And now I will sit back and listen to Durufle's Requiem-our recording is most fine. Bye for now.

I Heard a Voice.

Tinned Mackerel and Toast.

Sometimes it is good to keep things simple. Those who know me will laugh at that comment. Given the apparent complexity of the many foodie posts I put on here it seems ludicrous. But sometimes I do just that. Tonight it was just tinned mackerel and toast. I rarely eat fish but I do like mackerel even if it is from a tin. Actually the cupboards were bare. Normally I shop on Saturdays but not today.

I spent the day in London with my fellow blogger Izzi from http://juggleglass.com/ . That's not her real name but I did meet her through her blog. She is far more successful at it than I am. But her audience is fickle just like mine. She has a PhD; I do not. But I do have 2 books to my name and a co written 3rd.

We indulged in some very nice dim sum in Chinatown. I used to be a regular visitor there but given the financial constraints of my recent years I have not been since August. Funnily enough the last friend I met there Erny has bipolar just like Izzi. What is it with me and bipolar? I have so many bipolar friends. Many of them think I have bipolar but I will never get that label; I'm too well for any shrink to bother with me now.

Now after my light supper I am listening to Benjamin Britten's Peter Grimes which I bought today. Great to hear opera in English-I don't understand German or Italian. In a round about by I have connections to Britten. As a child every year we all went off to sing in Aldeburgh in Suffolk. No one ever told us anything in those days, it was just here today and sing this. I know now that it was all part of the Britten Aldeburgh Festival. Our director, you know the one e buried before Christmas had been friends with Britten.

There is another connection in a tenuous way. Britten's partner both professionally and personally was Peter Pears who as an old boy from my old school. I sang in a very exclusive centenary service to remember him a couple of years ago.

I like Britten although it is one of my great regrets that I was never able to sing his wonderful Ceremony of Carols. Too old now.

My mood is up but not too much. Tomorrow I travel to Miriam's to watch the Superbowl. If there is a cyclical nature to my mood disorder, history tells me after that I go into the dark months. In April I will emerge again just as the sun tans my face. Another summer beckons, another birthday, then it starts all over again. Is life passing me by? I guess so. More soon.

I Heard a Voice.