Gathering Gloom Take 2.

With Flaming June due to arrive tomorrow my part of Hertfordshire is surrounded by darkness and and gloom. In fact it is so dull I have had to put the lights on in my flat. Cold and wet outside really have put me off doing anything adventurous. So no walk today yet again.

In its stead I'm reading and listening to the radio. Can't even be bothered to watch the cricket. I was however delighted to see that my friend Lucie had her letter to the education editor of the Sunday Times about personal budgets for children with special needs published. I was aware of her battle from Facebook posts so so pleased for her that she has succeeded.

Sadly I cannot be a gentleman of leisure all afternoon. We are interviewing for that job I mentioned on here tomorrow so I need to familiarise my self with the applications in preparation. I rather enjoy interviewing although it is uneasy being in a position of having power over the lives I people I barely know.

My mood is a little flat today and the anxiety is bubbling away underneath. In truth we will be fine in Spain so why do I worry? Too much time spent with mum? I never used to be like this going away. Yet I know that once I have collected my bag from the carousel at Madrid airport life will go on and it will abate to the next phase.

This is the last post of May. May June bring more sun.

I Heard a Voice.

A Nothing Kind of a Day.

I'm not really sure what to make of today. It is neither good nor bad. In fact I'm a bit perplexed and lacking in emotion. I was very tired when I got up. Went out with a friend from work last night, great night but overdid it. So I was feeling a little lost most of the day.

That said I managed some domestic stuff, I had a pint in The Waggoners, braved the cut throat razor at the Turkish barbers and am now cooking a Sumatran lamb curry. Had a little taste earlier, had to add sugar and salt.

Once that's done I don't know. Perhaps an opera. Or Morse. Too restless to decide now. I also need to figure out what to do tomorrow. I'm loathed to cook, we're off to Spain on Wednesday so don't really want leftovers hanging around. I can also feel my anxiety about going away slowly building. Why does this happen every year?

I Heard a Voice.

Tearful Goodbyes.

It is that time again when I have to say goodbye to some of my students. There is always a mix of sadness and joy at this point. The joy for the great triumph, the sadness for what might have been. In their darkest hour I always remind my students that moment in which they triumph over mental illness is when they stride down the knave of St Albans Abbey in their finery to receive their degrees. It is their triumph not mine. We must achieve despite mental illness.

I wonder if I will recall that as I stride down that same knave in my finery in September? Every year students ask if I will be at their graduation. The answer is always no. So the goodbyes are in an office or a coffee shop. There are often tears.

Today I said goodbye to N. I've known her for 3 years. And God did we see darkness at times. But she made it. She tried to hold back the tears as she simply overstated what I have done for her. N if you ever read this it was your triumph. All I have is words. If they are powerful enough to help so be it. But I am no more than a middle aged man somewhere further down the mental health track than you who just talks words. Some say I failed in life. Others see it in different way. I'm just glad that for some my journey through madness has in a small way enlightened the road a little for them.

Tonight I reflect with The Messiah and sit for a short while content on another year almost down. What will next year bring?

I Heard a Voice.

On the Bone.

I've just watched John Torode culinary trip to Argentina. I missed it first time around a few months ago. Any time an Australian admits he's been BBQing wrong all his life makes one sit up and listen. God the food looked good. Made me think I must roast a forerib of beef again soon.

Watching it took me back to a bygone age. Do you remember the mad cow disease outrage? It led to a ban on beef on the bone. At the time I lived with my parents and rarely cooked. It wasn't that I couldn't cook or didn't want to more that everything anyone else cooked mum criticised. So I simply gave up. It wasn't until later when I cooked each day that I realised the culinary disaster that the ban on meat on the bone was for British cooking. To be honest though I did find beef on the bone in those days, at the Pullman bar in Folkestone. And of course I had to have a T bone steak just because I could.

Those days seem long ago now. I cook what I will. Currently one of my trademark fiery Thai curries is bubbling away on the hob. It will infuse overnight then set my mouth on fire tomorrow. Only a week to go now until Madrid. I do feel calmer than last time I was on here.

Still have to see how that calm holds. I'm losing interest in other things but things will crop up this week. Then they will have to do without me for 10 days. They will, they always do. See you soon.

I Heard a Voice.

Thumping Batting.

A dull Sunday afternoon and Ben Stokes is smacking New Zealand's attack all over Lord's on the 4th day of the 1st Test match. England looked beaten first thing this morning. Marvellous stuff now.

My morning did not start with much promise. A year on from giving up smoking the dreaded nightmares do come back to me sometimes and this morning was one such occasion. Not much sign of the sun but after a healthy salad lunch and a trip out to The Crooked Chimney with my friend Richard I feel somewhat more with it.

A large gammon joint roasts away in the oven, my bottle of Syrah is open and joy seems restored. Should really have gone for a walk, been on hold since my foot problems emerged, but the lure of the pub put paid to that. Tomorrow's hostelry will be The Plough at Smallford. Always good to have a Monday off..

I Heard a Voice.

And So It Begins.

I woke up this morning edgy, restless and flat. So starts another Bank Holiday weekend. The fear is that my toe has started hurting again. It had been fine for a couple of weeks and now barely 10 before we fly to Madrid it has threatened to derail things already. Is it that anxiety that has plagued me in the run up to our last 2 holidays? If so it has started early. Please do not let my foot floor me again.

In my uncertainly I popped into town to shop. Good things on the menu, Vietnamese stir fried pork tonight, roasted gammon tomorrow then a Thai belly pork curry on Monday. There is also the plan to make a parsley soup. But it is not lifting my mood. That remains resolutely flat.

The cricket does not go well for England. There was recently an outside chance of a ticket to the Ashes at Lord's. Sadly it was not to be. But I will be going to the Oval in August. Somehow I can't see England improving much, they are extremely poor at the moment.

I think I need an opera and reading night, that shall be tonight's course of action.

I Heard a Voice.

Simply a Conversation.

Some years ago, I would estimate 4 maybe, after a long and tough day on which I had simply had enough, I walked the few yards to The Hedgehog just to get out. I didn't want to talk to anyone, I simply wanted a pint and calm down. A man sat at the bar I'd never seen before started talking to me. He was a big man but he had that look in his eye, the look of the mad. He told me he had lost everything, his wife, his business, his house. He was on the floor and I suspect pretty close to suicide.

Despite not wanting to have that sort of conversation in my switch off time I did talk. I had a conversation. I told him my advice. I'm not sure what he made of this short, balding random guy talking weirdness and pills in an estate pub in run down part of Hertfordshire. But he listened.

He did go to his Doctor. He did follow my advice. He did give up cocaine. And he began to get his life back together. I'd known him a few months and then he disappeared.

Last night had came back looking for me. He had come in specifically to see me. He told me it had been 3 1/2 years since he left. But what I told him had worked. His life is back on track, he's off the pills, and lavishing undeserved praise on me. And all I did was have a conversation. That is what I do. There is no magic. People tell me their lives, I say what I think and sometimes it works. I just talk to people.

I feel ashamed he thinks so much of me. I am utterly flawed. My upbeat but ashamed mood sadly didn't last beyond the dreaded Tuesday afternoon meeting. Change should happen. If it doesn't I need to change something. If I wanted to go back into group therapy I would pay for it. I don't want to be forced to do it for the needs of others.

I Heard a Voice.

Changing Taste With Age.

For years I swore blind that I didn't like goat's cheese. In fact when it came to cheese my tastes were always limited-mild only. Now at the age of 45 I realise the absurdity of my former stance. In recent months the strength of cheeses I can tolerate has risen and I've finally overcome my disdain for the product of goats. So on a quiet Sunday lunch was taken with a goat's cheese salad with a mint dressing. And most splendid it was too.

As mentioned before tonight's offering is roast chicken. It currently rests in the kitchen coming up to room temperature. The Magic Flute plays quietly in the background and the paper is half read. A promising start to the day outside seems to have faded. I ought to go for a walk after the opera finishes but it doesn't feel too inviting.

Only 2 more weeks of work remain before our trip to Madrid. Not really had the expected anxiety yet but it will come. I suppose I ought to think of getting some Euros, really have no idea how much I will need. But I am looking forward to it when we get there. Until I get back to you all take care and enjoy your Sunday.

I Heard a Voice.

Down Time.

After a week like the last one I need a break. Monday's tragedy which I wrote on earlier did not stop the week of chaos and stress. Whenever there is a death we have fall out. But add onto that that a number of our high risk people all got into difficulty at once it makes for tense nerves, exhaustion and self questioning.

Friday's plan went out the window by last thing on Thursday. The result was a back to back day of 6 students a number of whom are on our worry list. By the end of the day I was exhausted.

Waking up at 12.30, God I was tired, the plan was a gentle day. And I got it. I also finally discovered a good butcher nearly 8 years after I moved here. The proof will be in the chicken so to speak for that is what I will roast tomorrow. Nice bottle of French Chardonnay and some Jersey Royal potatoes should make for a fine feast.

My anxiety levels of the last couple of weeks are now reducing. Not found it easy going. But I now look forward to a Sri Lankan beef curry that is bubbling away and a few beers to complete my Saturday.

I Heard a Voice.

Life in Perspective.

I always fear when I work that I do not do enough to reach out to those in need. Others I guess fear so too. We talk of reaching out but the great unsaid is the fear of how we would cope if everyone who needed support came for support. We would be overwhelmed. Yet on a day of another tragedy I ask myself that awful question, could I have done more? My world is a dangerous world. We are all reeling yet that pales into insignificance to those who knew the individual. They will always mourn.

It has been a sobering day after the flim flam of a contested and disputed election. For all the important people making decisions on our behalf us mortals go on as best we can. I feel desperately sad but must get up tomorrow, carry on and do the best I can for those I do know.

At a bit of loss tonight. Fine food did not help. Mundane TV will pass the hours. Then night will come. The sun will rise early as we move inexorably towards the longest day. Another academic year is nearly over. But I will mourn.

I Heard a Voice.

Weeping, Wailing and Gnashing of Teeth.

When I last posted on here it was on the eve of the election. I recall writing that there may be a new government when I next post. Well that new government arrived far quicker than most people predicted. I was not certain of an outcome but I said all along that a Tory majority was possible and that is what we got.

Since then social media has been awash with angry people saying they were robbed. Yet for all of those who bemoan the lack of Green MPs the truth is to change the system would given far more seats to the the right wing UKIP which I'm sure most Green voters would detest even more than a Tory government. In truth Labour losing in Scotland didn't matter, to win they had to take Tory seats. And they singularly failed to do that.

I make no political comment on here as you will be aware. We have a system that is flawed. The other system would be flawed too. At least we have a system that allows me a member of the public to have some little say in the outcome. Much of the world does not have that right.

Away from the postmortum-and it is on TV as I write-I had a lovely weekend with my dad. Culminating in a marvellous roast beef lunch in The Earl Of Clarendon, a pub whose reputation goes far and wide but where I had never been before. I'm back on my feet now and nearly healed. Still needs watching though. It is the demand a letter season at work-I do not like being put under pressure on that as I was today.

My mental health has stabilised after the anxiety of recent days and weeks. Sometimes it feels like it is becoming a bigger problem than the mood disorder. Any tips on that? Until next time.

I Heard a Voice.

Anger Misdirected.

Monday and Tuesday have passed into history since I last wrote to you all. With Wednesday rapidly waning too I am listening to Handel's Coronation Anthems and reflecting on an odd few days. So much since that missive on Sunday.

I did get to see my Doctor and the feared surgery never seemed an option. I'm taking antibiotics but uncertain whether I'm healing or not. But then again it has only been 2 days.

On Monday evening I tried as hard as I could to ignore the pain and poor mobility by catching the train to town and meeting my friend Rebecca for the first time since 1998. And what a marvellous evening we had. It became clear that once again I'm dismissing my achievements as ordinary. She was lavish in her praise of just what I have done since we last met. Yet she is the founder and CEO of an arts education company that works right across England, is married with 2 beautiful children and splits her life between London, New York and Seoul. How have I achieved anything against that? But we will meet again soon.

Today I spent the afternoon shortlisting for the mental health job at the University. Before on here I mentioned it as my assistant. That was really a sarcastic reference but was told off for it none the less. What an interesting experience that was. As ever those with lived experience sang to me, others shone in different ways. Those of us involved each had a different angle so I hope we have done people justice.

I came home feeling it was a good day. So why the anger of the title? I snapped at the girl in the chemist when she told me the prescription I was given could not be fulfilled as it didn't exist. The stress of the last few days and how hard it is to get an appointment led to an unusual lapse of calm which I feel really guilty about. I must apologise next time I see her. What it really illustrates though is how anxious and tense my life has been since the foot problem came about. Let us pray it is healing.

Tomorrow we go to the polls for the election. I have no idea what outcome that will bring but it will be interesting to watch. We may have a new government next time I speak to you all. Don't forget to vote if you have a chance; so many in the world do not get that chance.

I Heard a Voice.

Wishing My Life Away.

Ordinarily on a Bank Holiday weekend I would be relishing the extra day off. This weekend I'm not. Really need to get to see the Doctor. My mind is racing away with bad possibilities just as mum's mind once did. Am I becoming more anxious as I get older? Am I wishing my life away with the need of Tuesday to come quickly? Actually I both need and fear that trip on Tuesday. If it is just antibiotics then I can live with that. If it is worse the best laid plans for the next couple of months could be undone. Why does the anxious mind go to worst case scenario?

I cannot make time speed up though. Another Sunday is on me. The music of the afternoon is Mozart's La Finta Giardiniera, a somewhat long opera spread over 3 CDs and more than 3 hours of play time. I need to check how long the duck needs to cook. It is only a crown so likely less than I normally do. It would have been nice to go for a walk now the sun has come out but that's never going to happen. So the rest of the paper beckons. Maybe the cricket after the opera; what an extraordinary day in Barbados yesterday, 18 wickets in a day.

Here is to better health and hearing more positive news on Tuesday than I fear.

I Heard a Voice.

Hobbling About.

The arrival of a long feared infection has slightly blighted my holiday weekend. Curious condition I have whose name eludes me has struck just when the Doctor Surgery is shut an extra day. Upshot is I'm struggling to walk, in some pain and anxiety growing. When it was diagnosed I was told an infection would probably lead to surgery. Really don't need that.

Foot troubles aside we made it through another week. Back on Tuesday Doctors and infection permitting. I will sample the delights of short listing candidates for interview on Wednesday, never done that before. The interview will not be for a few weeks but it should lead to some help for me.

Before then and also health permitting the plan is London on Monday. Always great to see old friends I thought were lost forever. The joys of social media have certainly allowed me to re-engage with my past. So supper in Angel.

As for tonight I will bake some chicken thighs smothered in honey and mustard, listen to Verdi on the radio, Un Ballo In Maschera, and keep an eye on day 3 of the NFL draft. Tomorrow brings roast duck.

I Heard a Voice.