The start of the game hunting season is not something I take too much notice of. I don't really move in those kinds of circles, I've never been to a Shooting Estate and it is comparatively rare for me to eat game. Not that I dislike it. On the contrary, pigeon, partridge, pheasant and rabbit are very partial to my palate. I just don't think about it often.
Today though after my marvellous day out at the Market my grouse lies seasoned with pepper, anointed with bacon fat as recommended by the late great Clarissa Dickson Wright, and covered with strips of streaky bacon. It will go in in about 10 minutes for around 35 minutes and be served with roasted potatoes, carrots, beans and if it works out a gravy make with meat juices and port.
I feel most cultured. Rossini opera is on and a nice glass of red is breathing away ready for quaffing shortly.
Being on holiday can be good even when one does very little. Apart from a hair cut and a little shopping today has been a take it easy day. Unlike much of the time since I left work on Friday I slept reasonably well. The dreams had made a most unwelcome return and hindered my recharging.
Tomorrow I will catch the bus to St Alban's to meet my friend Kevin. Some Moroccan food is the plan and a few hostelries. So will have to be up a little earlier.
It looks like I will have to make another foray to the phone shop as I confirmed today a number of messages are failing to get through. So not only did they lose my photos the phone doesn't work properly. Beginning to regret going in to change it. People keep asking when my stream of fine food pictures will reappear on social media. The answer is I don't know. Taking ages to master a faulty piece of junk. That said it take lovely pictures.
Time to get back to the kitchen. See you in September.
I Heard a Voice.
Wednesday 31 August 2016
Tuesday 30 August 2016
Shades of Granada.
Ola! Happy birthday to me! I didn't think I would get to blog today but after a marvellous day out with dad and Beka I'm home relatively early, still full from lunch and enjoying the late sun.
It has been a day that took me back to the city of Granada where of course I met Rachel and went with dad 3 years ago. I wasn't thinking of Rachel today, hadn't crossed my mind when I decided to write. It was a day for us. And what a day.
So long since I made it to the wonderful Borough Market a favourite spot of mine in town. After trying Brindisa in Kensington with my friend Rebecca back in the winter I wanted to try the one at London Bridge. And by God did we go to town. Pitchers of Estrella Damm, sardines, anchovies, prawns, octopus, medium rare pork fillet, olives, cured beef, squid, good bread and tons of fun. A lovely friendly Granadan waiter. And as in Spain the sun shone brilliantly and we sat outside getting nicely tanned and watching the world go by.
And then the Market. Having checked my balance before leaving-pay day is tomorrow-I was somewhat more restrained than usual. I came home with Sri Lankan cinnamon, dried turmeric, mace, pimenton for my friend Gary, sheep's cheese from Spain, a wonderful looking wild boar pate and to top it all a grouse to roast for my supper tomorrow.
Back at home I'm still so hot from town I'm actually in shorts. Cooling off with a chilled beer and Rick Stein on.
On days like today I am reassured that I'm so blessed with the many kind people in my life. My love of good food. And that the devil that is mental illness was politely absent on this my birthday. Please stay away.
I Heard a Voice.
It has been a day that took me back to the city of Granada where of course I met Rachel and went with dad 3 years ago. I wasn't thinking of Rachel today, hadn't crossed my mind when I decided to write. It was a day for us. And what a day.
So long since I made it to the wonderful Borough Market a favourite spot of mine in town. After trying Brindisa in Kensington with my friend Rebecca back in the winter I wanted to try the one at London Bridge. And by God did we go to town. Pitchers of Estrella Damm, sardines, anchovies, prawns, octopus, medium rare pork fillet, olives, cured beef, squid, good bread and tons of fun. A lovely friendly Granadan waiter. And as in Spain the sun shone brilliantly and we sat outside getting nicely tanned and watching the world go by.
And then the Market. Having checked my balance before leaving-pay day is tomorrow-I was somewhat more restrained than usual. I came home with Sri Lankan cinnamon, dried turmeric, mace, pimenton for my friend Gary, sheep's cheese from Spain, a wonderful looking wild boar pate and to top it all a grouse to roast for my supper tomorrow.
Back at home I'm still so hot from town I'm actually in shorts. Cooling off with a chilled beer and Rick Stein on.
On days like today I am reassured that I'm so blessed with the many kind people in my life. My love of good food. And that the devil that is mental illness was politely absent on this my birthday. Please stay away.
I Heard a Voice.
Sunday 28 August 2016
Adventures in Cheese.
The rains finally came today. Not as so often happens in late summer with a fearsome crack of thunder and a great flash of lightning. No that steady but persistent rain that heralds the changing of the seasons.
It was another night of dreams and a late morning. Not sure why but that old nemesis of mine bad dreams seems to be making an unwelcome come back. It is not as bad as it used to be but makes me edgy and tired in the mornings.
On such a Sunday Miriam and Nigel came to visit and took me out to lunch at The Waggoners. Laurent and his crew certainly spoiled us today. Smoked chicken and leek terrine, wonderfully rare beef, and cheese. Yes I took the cheese option and was blown away. Given the recent deluge of French people reading my blog in the last couple of weeks it felt right for an adventure in cheese. It was sublime. Miriam joined me and had a piece of everything on the trolley except the Rochefort as neither of us are great fans of blue cheese.
A few weeks back I was in there for a pint when the cheese man arrived in the refrigerated van and great excitement ensued. I can see why now. I have missed out all these years in cheese barbarity.
What will tomorrow bring? More rain? I don't really care. I just hope for fewer dreams and a gentle day. For the day after I turn 47 with trip to Borough Market with dad and Beka. And Thursday marks the 9th anniversary of moving to Hertfordshire.
I Heard a Voice.
It was another night of dreams and a late morning. Not sure why but that old nemesis of mine bad dreams seems to be making an unwelcome come back. It is not as bad as it used to be but makes me edgy and tired in the mornings.
On such a Sunday Miriam and Nigel came to visit and took me out to lunch at The Waggoners. Laurent and his crew certainly spoiled us today. Smoked chicken and leek terrine, wonderfully rare beef, and cheese. Yes I took the cheese option and was blown away. Given the recent deluge of French people reading my blog in the last couple of weeks it felt right for an adventure in cheese. It was sublime. Miriam joined me and had a piece of everything on the trolley except the Rochefort as neither of us are great fans of blue cheese.
A few weeks back I was in there for a pint when the cheese man arrived in the refrigerated van and great excitement ensued. I can see why now. I have missed out all these years in cheese barbarity.
What will tomorrow bring? More rain? I don't really care. I just hope for fewer dreams and a gentle day. For the day after I turn 47 with trip to Borough Market with dad and Beka. And Thursday marks the 9th anniversary of moving to Hertfordshire.
I Heard a Voice.
Saturday 27 August 2016
Semi Deserted Streets.
Where has everyone disappeared to? They seem to have vanished. On another close but overcast Saturday there is no sign of the sun and not much sign of life. I did my usual trip to the butcher, then town. It was so quiet. Bought a couple of pairs of Levi's in a sale-shame sale wasn't after pay day but seize the day if you can. I have a Tsing Tao with Yang and a nice cappuccino in Waterstones then home with my new purchases, cleaned coat and very expensively altered blazer.
All the doors and windows are open in the flat and a gentle breeze is barely shifting the stuffy air in here. I fancied listening to strings again today and was overly indulgent-Beethoven's Kreutzer Sonata in the car and now Mozart String Quintets at home.
My mood is buoyant, I have no anxiety and I'm looking forward to fresh linen when I eventually go to bed. Before then the obligatory visit to my kitchen. Prawns are the plan tonight, trying out a new recipe marinated in sumac, coriander, lemon and garlic then fried in olive oil. Perhaps a little Lebanese salad to accompany it. Light and healthy.
Miriam and Nigel are coming tomorrow and we have a table booked at The Waggoners. I guess it will be rare beef again then. We will exchange birthday presents, hers late and mine early.
So many good things coming up in my break but for now I sit back with Mozart, a glass of Pimm's and Ernest Hemingway's A Moveable Feast. Very much enjoying that.
I Heard a Voice.
All the doors and windows are open in the flat and a gentle breeze is barely shifting the stuffy air in here. I fancied listening to strings again today and was overly indulgent-Beethoven's Kreutzer Sonata in the car and now Mozart String Quintets at home.
My mood is buoyant, I have no anxiety and I'm looking forward to fresh linen when I eventually go to bed. Before then the obligatory visit to my kitchen. Prawns are the plan tonight, trying out a new recipe marinated in sumac, coriander, lemon and garlic then fried in olive oil. Perhaps a little Lebanese salad to accompany it. Light and healthy.
Miriam and Nigel are coming tomorrow and we have a table booked at The Waggoners. I guess it will be rare beef again then. We will exchange birthday presents, hers late and mine early.
So many good things coming up in my break but for now I sit back with Mozart, a glass of Pimm's and Ernest Hemingway's A Moveable Feast. Very much enjoying that.
I Heard a Voice.
Friday 26 August 2016
In the Heat of the Night.
The parched lawns of the University and parks of Welwyn Garden City give witness that this has not been a write off of a summer. Sporadic yes but intense heat and humidity have marked days and weeks as we hurtle towards autumn. It is a beautiful evening. I had a quintessentially English supper of Coronation Chicken, organic salad potatoes and cucumber with a Spanish guest in the form of a chilled glass of Albarino. The marvel of genius that is The Marriage of Figaro is guiding my quiet evening and the start of my holiday.
Yes I have finally made it. No more work until 12th September. There are days out planned-possibly too many. I will eat too much and drink too much. I will visit Borough Market on my birthday with dad and maybe Beka.
What is missing from that equation separated as it was by a final day of work was my lovely evening with the always magnificent Ros.
In the intense heat and humidity of town on a busy Thursday evening we regained ourselves for a few hours. A pint in The Porcupine then on for the first time in some years Jamon Jamon on the site of the old Sporting Pages bookshop on Charing Cross Road. It was carnage there. The food almost as sporadic as the sun, stretched but friendly service, nice but not overly hot tapas and wonderful company.
The two of us have had a lot of downs since we last met and certainly not enough ups. Yet when we meet we talk as true knowers, searchers and believers. It reminded me that at times I'm most at home in the company of people who know the mad world.
We both know it and on the face of it we have both defeated it. We got out. We don't always stay out but are not where we once were.
I hope it is not another year before I see her. I know she will read this and may find it emotion provoking. But Ros we did it, another year. Let's meet sooner next time.
I Heard a Voice.
Yes I have finally made it. No more work until 12th September. There are days out planned-possibly too many. I will eat too much and drink too much. I will visit Borough Market on my birthday with dad and maybe Beka.
What is missing from that equation separated as it was by a final day of work was my lovely evening with the always magnificent Ros.
In the intense heat and humidity of town on a busy Thursday evening we regained ourselves for a few hours. A pint in The Porcupine then on for the first time in some years Jamon Jamon on the site of the old Sporting Pages bookshop on Charing Cross Road. It was carnage there. The food almost as sporadic as the sun, stretched but friendly service, nice but not overly hot tapas and wonderful company.
The two of us have had a lot of downs since we last met and certainly not enough ups. Yet when we meet we talk as true knowers, searchers and believers. It reminded me that at times I'm most at home in the company of people who know the mad world.
We both know it and on the face of it we have both defeated it. We got out. We don't always stay out but are not where we once were.
I hope it is not another year before I see her. I know she will read this and may find it emotion provoking. But Ros we did it, another year. Let's meet sooner next time.
I Heard a Voice.
Tuesday 23 August 2016
A Jaunt in the Country.
After the debacle that was yesterday I needed things to improve and so far today they have done. It was time for a jaunt in the country.
The English countryside is littered with quaint little villages. All would originally have had a pub. The churches in the main still stand. And the roads to get to them can be narrow and treacherous. But in the late summer on such a gloriously warm and sunny day why not? I found myself by way of a missed turning in the village of Sandridge this afternoon. Kym lives there.
Until today I had not found the church. Nor The Queen's Head pub. Can you believe there are 3 pubs in the little place? Said pub it turns out is right next to the church. So after a lovely pint of Tribute I took a look at the church.
In common with all such churches there is a memorial to those who died in war. Brave is a politician who sends our sons and daughters to war. Braver still those sons and daughters fighting for causes that may or may not be just. In all the turmoil of the current world there is still a huge poignancy to those records of young men who died 100 years ago in what became known as The Great War.
Every church I visit I take time to look. And at Sandridge there is something slightly different. The memorial gate that stands at the entrance commemorates not only those who died but those who fought and survived. I've never seen that before.
It was a restorative trip. Part of our English heritage of which I'm so proud and admiring. Do not let the right wing take our flag for most are good. As I have noted before so many of these old pubs are closing. Church attendance continues to dwindle but let us hope these old Norman buildings remain for eternity.
I Heard a Voice.
The English countryside is littered with quaint little villages. All would originally have had a pub. The churches in the main still stand. And the roads to get to them can be narrow and treacherous. But in the late summer on such a gloriously warm and sunny day why not? I found myself by way of a missed turning in the village of Sandridge this afternoon. Kym lives there.
Until today I had not found the church. Nor The Queen's Head pub. Can you believe there are 3 pubs in the little place? Said pub it turns out is right next to the church. So after a lovely pint of Tribute I took a look at the church.
In common with all such churches there is a memorial to those who died in war. Brave is a politician who sends our sons and daughters to war. Braver still those sons and daughters fighting for causes that may or may not be just. In all the turmoil of the current world there is still a huge poignancy to those records of young men who died 100 years ago in what became known as The Great War.
Every church I visit I take time to look. And at Sandridge there is something slightly different. The memorial gate that stands at the entrance commemorates not only those who died but those who fought and survived. I've never seen that before.
It was a restorative trip. Part of our English heritage of which I'm so proud and admiring. Do not let the right wing take our flag for most are good. As I have noted before so many of these old pubs are closing. Church attendance continues to dwindle but let us hope these old Norman buildings remain for eternity.
I Heard a Voice.
Monday 22 August 2016
Not My Day.
Days off work are supposed to be fun, relaxed and joyful. Well my day has been anything but. I had a few things to do today, donate to charity shop, get my coat dry cleaned, get a blazer altered, get a new watch strap and look into upgrading my phone. Of those the only thing that went right was the charity shop.
Who could have thought a watch strap, a clean coat and an altered blazer would cost more than £50? Yes it was that much. Thinking nothing else could go wrong I went into the empty Vodafone shop to ask about a phone. Nearly an hour later I had a new phone, I'd had to move the car as my parking was running out, I'd lost all my photos and only just managed to get the numbers from the old phone to the new one. Is it really supposed to be like that?
On such a humid day I came away too hot, too stressed and too irritated for a holiday day. I suspect it will take me weeks to work out the new phone-I am that bad with technology. In dire need of the drink I vacated to The Sun at Lemsford for a pint-cue irritating, arrogant, sarcastic barman. Fuck off! Not today.
Back home I'm edgy and irritable. Don't know what to do with myself and can settle on nothing. Let us hope tomorrow is better. It is another free day.
What to do then I do not know. Maybe a country drive. A walk. Whatever happens I do have something to look forward to as I'm meeting Ros in London on Thursday. I always enjoy her company.
I Heard a Voice.
Who could have thought a watch strap, a clean coat and an altered blazer would cost more than £50? Yes it was that much. Thinking nothing else could go wrong I went into the empty Vodafone shop to ask about a phone. Nearly an hour later I had a new phone, I'd had to move the car as my parking was running out, I'd lost all my photos and only just managed to get the numbers from the old phone to the new one. Is it really supposed to be like that?
On such a humid day I came away too hot, too stressed and too irritated for a holiday day. I suspect it will take me weeks to work out the new phone-I am that bad with technology. In dire need of the drink I vacated to The Sun at Lemsford for a pint-cue irritating, arrogant, sarcastic barman. Fuck off! Not today.
Back home I'm edgy and irritable. Don't know what to do with myself and can settle on nothing. Let us hope tomorrow is better. It is another free day.
What to do then I do not know. Maybe a country drive. A walk. Whatever happens I do have something to look forward to as I'm meeting Ros in London on Thursday. I always enjoy her company.
I Heard a Voice.
Sunday 21 August 2016
Sunday With a Difference.
Before he recently gave up driving dad was regular visitor to the fortnightly Wye Farmers' Market. Lovely little town in Kent which once had an agricultural college, a number of pubs-still does-former home to mum's favourite restaurant Froggies, home of the Joshan a favoured haunt of Beka and her late dad. And an old church. My curious accident of Facebook I became aware an old school contemporary of mine the aptly named Ravi Holy is vicar.
Like dad I too love Farmers' Markets. Yet given the propensity both my illness and my medication have for excessive sleep I rarely go as they are too early for me on a weekend. But not today.
Despite waking later than planned I drove accompanied by Offenbach's Orpheus in the Underworld to the Elizabethan Hatfield House for just such a market which was open until 2 pm. Busy but disappointing sadly. Not a huge amount there other than an overabundance of stalls selling jams and chutneys. I didn't need any of those. But I did find a fine cheese and charcuterie stall so emerged with Italian cheese, Parma ham and some chorizo. There was also a French baker from whom I bought some nice bread.
Whilst it was a bit disappointing I did enjoy my little adventure for an unusual Sunday change. Leaving Hatfield House I popped into the lovely Eight Bells pub for a pint of guest beer called Mellow Yellow. Very refreshing.
Home again I have lazed with a glass of Pimm's, my beloved Mozart and the paper. As Idomeneo heads towards its conclusion a chicken is roasting away in the oven. Old fashioned roast chicken is such a marvellous indulgence. And a bottle of Albarino to keep it happy.
Tomorrow a long sleep on my long weekend and a few things in town. I could do with more long weekends. See you in the week.
I Heard a Voice
Like dad I too love Farmers' Markets. Yet given the propensity both my illness and my medication have for excessive sleep I rarely go as they are too early for me on a weekend. But not today.
Despite waking later than planned I drove accompanied by Offenbach's Orpheus in the Underworld to the Elizabethan Hatfield House for just such a market which was open until 2 pm. Busy but disappointing sadly. Not a huge amount there other than an overabundance of stalls selling jams and chutneys. I didn't need any of those. But I did find a fine cheese and charcuterie stall so emerged with Italian cheese, Parma ham and some chorizo. There was also a French baker from whom I bought some nice bread.
Whilst it was a bit disappointing I did enjoy my little adventure for an unusual Sunday change. Leaving Hatfield House I popped into the lovely Eight Bells pub for a pint of guest beer called Mellow Yellow. Very refreshing.
Home again I have lazed with a glass of Pimm's, my beloved Mozart and the paper. As Idomeneo heads towards its conclusion a chicken is roasting away in the oven. Old fashioned roast chicken is such a marvellous indulgence. And a bottle of Albarino to keep it happy.
Tomorrow a long sleep on my long weekend and a few things in town. I could do with more long weekends. See you in the week.
I Heard a Voice
Saturday 20 August 2016
An Uncommonly Long Weekend.
You find me on an early Saturday evening in late summer listening to Aida, preparing for a rare steak and with an unusual amount of time on my hands. Contrary to the norm I'm having an extra long weekend.
Yesterday was old Joe's funeral. Huge turn out as expected. High emotions and glimpses of errors of the past. I'm hoping though that we gave him the send off he deserved.
With a couple of days left to use up I will be off on Monday and Tuesday as well. Nice that my usual growing of anxiety which normally begins on Saturday night is nowhere to be seen.
I think my mood is okay. I don't feel anxious at all. Just a time to relax with Verdi, some more of my book and a fine glass of Bordeaux with my steak.
Just been chatting to the lovely Jayne in Cambridge. Got slightly mixed up over a visit I may make after my birthday. But there will be another time for a weekend together. Our conversation was cut cut short by the exuberance of her 5 year old James but so be it. He will only be young once.
Tomorrow I may head for the Farmers' Market at Hatfield House. I never made it to the food festival a few weeks back. Even now though a visit is entirely dependent on what time I get up; sleep is too precious to give up. If I don't make it I have lovely free range chicken to cook anyway tomorrow. Some nice Albarino too.
As summer wanes we make the best of what is left. In 10 days I turn 47, each year it surprises me the speed at which I age. We are all the same. I'm hoping to meet dad on the day to take him to Borough Market and perhaps a nice lunch at Brindisa. He's never been so I think he is looking forward to it.
I Heard a Voice.
Yesterday was old Joe's funeral. Huge turn out as expected. High emotions and glimpses of errors of the past. I'm hoping though that we gave him the send off he deserved.
With a couple of days left to use up I will be off on Monday and Tuesday as well. Nice that my usual growing of anxiety which normally begins on Saturday night is nowhere to be seen.
I think my mood is okay. I don't feel anxious at all. Just a time to relax with Verdi, some more of my book and a fine glass of Bordeaux with my steak.
Just been chatting to the lovely Jayne in Cambridge. Got slightly mixed up over a visit I may make after my birthday. But there will be another time for a weekend together. Our conversation was cut cut short by the exuberance of her 5 year old James but so be it. He will only be young once.
Tomorrow I may head for the Farmers' Market at Hatfield House. I never made it to the food festival a few weeks back. Even now though a visit is entirely dependent on what time I get up; sleep is too precious to give up. If I don't make it I have lovely free range chicken to cook anyway tomorrow. Some nice Albarino too.
As summer wanes we make the best of what is left. In 10 days I turn 47, each year it surprises me the speed at which I age. We are all the same. I'm hoping to meet dad on the day to take him to Borough Market and perhaps a nice lunch at Brindisa. He's never been so I think he is looking forward to it.
I Heard a Voice.
Sunday 14 August 2016
Waning Days.
Can you believe that any minute now the English Test Match cricket season will be over? I say any minute, England will lose it is just matter of time. A glorious series which I have enjoyed very much. It marks the waning of summer along with slightly chillier evenings, darkness coming earlier and shops full of return to school offers.
On yet another quiet Sunday I'm reading and cooking. Slow roast lamb today and I'm going to make my own mint sauce following a recipe I saw on TV. I do have the urge to drive to a country pub but will resist.
Finally managed to fit in a trip to London yesterday afternoon. It didn't exactly go to plan but in the end I did get to meet up with Kiwi Sarah, did the BP Portrait Award Exhibition, bought my ethnic football guide and had ribs in Chinatown. Trying to get home was precarious with a severe lack of train crew available and tempers rising but make it I did.
Following advice from my manager I am taking a long weekend next time up. So I will go to Joe's funeral on Friday then rest and chill on Monday and Tuesday. Hoping that will do my mental wellbeing some good.
Also likely to do some good is the possibility I will get a chance to catch up with Ros after that. Always enjoy our reunions. Take care out there as summer wanes. And enjoy what is left.
I Heard a Voice.
On yet another quiet Sunday I'm reading and cooking. Slow roast lamb today and I'm going to make my own mint sauce following a recipe I saw on TV. I do have the urge to drive to a country pub but will resist.
Finally managed to fit in a trip to London yesterday afternoon. It didn't exactly go to plan but in the end I did get to meet up with Kiwi Sarah, did the BP Portrait Award Exhibition, bought my ethnic football guide and had ribs in Chinatown. Trying to get home was precarious with a severe lack of train crew available and tempers rising but make it I did.
Following advice from my manager I am taking a long weekend next time up. So I will go to Joe's funeral on Friday then rest and chill on Monday and Tuesday. Hoping that will do my mental wellbeing some good.
Also likely to do some good is the possibility I will get a chance to catch up with Ros after that. Always enjoy our reunions. Take care out there as summer wanes. And enjoy what is left.
I Heard a Voice.
Wednesday 10 August 2016
Another Day in Paradise.
Under leaden skies I set out once again into the fray this morning. The evening chill too gave hint of autumn to come. Soon I will see the mists rising on the Mimram as I drive in. That chill is comforting for me in a way. In another it brings terror. There was a time when the coming of the new academic year brought about a mini mania, my buzzy times of supreme confidence that I was equal to that fray. And fray it is. But not today.
As I drove that short 10 minutes in with Simon and Garfunkel playing I reflected on yesterday. It was a glimpse of that fray to come. We were in London to risk assess. It is a busy bustling city which rarely slows down in the day. Not often I'm there in the week but walking from King's Cross to Euston I saw the detritus of a world that cares for some but not others. We may have the fifth biggest economy in the world but there are many poor and deprived. And tragically many live on the streets. We saw a young man on the corner with a begging cup in front of him crying his eyes out loudly. How could the world reject those cries? But the world did and walked along. There were others too in our short walk.
Phil Collins released the haunting Another Day in Paradise more than 20 years ago. But have we changed? I noticed last time I shopped that there was a box to put food for a nearby food bank. Next time I will buy extra for that. What to buy I don't know but I can spare a little so will do so.
In my world many are only a few short stops from the streets. The homeless population contains a large proportion of mentally ill people. As each year passes I see more and more students who go down that route when studies do not work out for them. It makes me ashamed but I'm powerless to do anything. That I guess is the real fray not whether I can cope with the next crisis, or demand, or expectation.
I suppose I have come out of the last recession relatively unscathed. I still have a job and the place to live even if I'm not happy with either at times. How different my life might have been. How different will the lives be of my old Kent friends who rely so much on kindness of friends, activists and families. I worry for some of my friends when mum or dad or both die. This world even now is not very forgiving of the mentally ill. As the press peddle myths that stark justify yourself and earn your place pervades and the most vulnerable suffer.
My influence on public policy is negligible. But I try hard with those I do support. And so on a now sunny August evening with Handel's Saul playing I am at peace. Let that continue when the storm breaks with the misty mornings, the chill and the moisture of autumn come for real.
I Heard a Voice.
As I drove that short 10 minutes in with Simon and Garfunkel playing I reflected on yesterday. It was a glimpse of that fray to come. We were in London to risk assess. It is a busy bustling city which rarely slows down in the day. Not often I'm there in the week but walking from King's Cross to Euston I saw the detritus of a world that cares for some but not others. We may have the fifth biggest economy in the world but there are many poor and deprived. And tragically many live on the streets. We saw a young man on the corner with a begging cup in front of him crying his eyes out loudly. How could the world reject those cries? But the world did and walked along. There were others too in our short walk.
Phil Collins released the haunting Another Day in Paradise more than 20 years ago. But have we changed? I noticed last time I shopped that there was a box to put food for a nearby food bank. Next time I will buy extra for that. What to buy I don't know but I can spare a little so will do so.
In my world many are only a few short stops from the streets. The homeless population contains a large proportion of mentally ill people. As each year passes I see more and more students who go down that route when studies do not work out for them. It makes me ashamed but I'm powerless to do anything. That I guess is the real fray not whether I can cope with the next crisis, or demand, or expectation.
I suppose I have come out of the last recession relatively unscathed. I still have a job and the place to live even if I'm not happy with either at times. How different my life might have been. How different will the lives be of my old Kent friends who rely so much on kindness of friends, activists and families. I worry for some of my friends when mum or dad or both die. This world even now is not very forgiving of the mentally ill. As the press peddle myths that stark justify yourself and earn your place pervades and the most vulnerable suffer.
My influence on public policy is negligible. But I try hard with those I do support. And so on a now sunny August evening with Handel's Saul playing I am at peace. Let that continue when the storm breaks with the misty mornings, the chill and the moisture of autumn come for real.
I Heard a Voice.
Sunday 7 August 2016
Is It Really That Long?
Facebook does all sorts of weird and wonderful things. Some good, some not so good. I never really use it to its full potential and am not quite so obsessed with social media as many of my students. Glancing on there today it popped up with a 5 year anniversary. Yes 5 years ago today whilst listening to the Messiah I wrote the first chapter of Charon's Ferry. Although it seems to have died without trace now I'm still glad I wrote it. Whilst sales have been almost non existent in recent weeks should you be interested it is available on this link:
All looks a bit long winded doesn't it but please forgive and allow my Sunday self righteous indulgence that whilst I'm never going to be a great success I did write 2 books and am very proud to have done so.
Books aside a quiet Sunday is unfolding. The pork is slow roasting ready for later. The cricket could still yield a result for England. The thought of a country pub seems most enticing. And I'm not at work. No reason at all to complain with that for a lovely day.
Enjoy the rest of your weekend and may the week to come be productive and stress free.
I Heard a Voice.
Saturday 6 August 2016
The Indulgence of Summer.
Hello again. My silence since Wednesday has not been owing to still being in the unexpected mire. Fortunately I bounced back from that aberration fairly quickly. It is true that the rest of the week was dull and dragged but I made it.
Now in glorious summer sunshine I'm chilling with Pimm's and cricket. The last 2 days have been beautiful, sunny but not overwhelmingly hot and not too much of that awful humidity of late. It wasn't entirely a lazy day, shopping and cleaning took up some time but it has that feel of a really chilled day.
I've been thinking of my friend Ros who has escaped the life of England to a wonderful holiday in Brittany. I've never actually been there but from what she reports and what I have glimpsed on the TV is looks heavenly. Certainly an opportunity to continue my slow but relentless reintroduction to fish and seafood after mum's excesses for all those years put me off for what I thought would be life.
Simplicity will be the driver in the kitchen tonight. Just some chicken thighs baked with thyme, garlic and rosemary, baby new potatoes, organic carrots (they still have mud on them), cauliflower and French beans. Then tomorrow's Sunday indulgence will be pork slow roasted on a bed of fennel. Looking forward to that.
Next week takes me to London for work, that will make a change. I'm hope the week doesn't drag as much as this one has. See you all at some point then.
I Heard a Voice.
Now in glorious summer sunshine I'm chilling with Pimm's and cricket. The last 2 days have been beautiful, sunny but not overwhelmingly hot and not too much of that awful humidity of late. It wasn't entirely a lazy day, shopping and cleaning took up some time but it has that feel of a really chilled day.
I've been thinking of my friend Ros who has escaped the life of England to a wonderful holiday in Brittany. I've never actually been there but from what she reports and what I have glimpsed on the TV is looks heavenly. Certainly an opportunity to continue my slow but relentless reintroduction to fish and seafood after mum's excesses for all those years put me off for what I thought would be life.
Simplicity will be the driver in the kitchen tonight. Just some chicken thighs baked with thyme, garlic and rosemary, baby new potatoes, organic carrots (they still have mud on them), cauliflower and French beans. Then tomorrow's Sunday indulgence will be pork slow roasted on a bed of fennel. Looking forward to that.
Next week takes me to London for work, that will make a change. I'm hope the week doesn't drag as much as this one has. See you all at some point then.
I Heard a Voice.
Wednesday 3 August 2016
An Old Adage
There are many old adages we associate with mental health. Perhaps the most commonly quoted is that on the bad days it is a struggle to even get out of bed. Despite a few close and tired shaves with that adage since my return from winter hibernation there have not been too many of those days. Then this morning arrived.
Completely out of the blue after a troubled night's sleep I woke filled with terror and couldn't move. I just wanted to be swallowed up by someone or something to take away that dread of not be able to function. My mood plummeted, my anxiety soared and for several minutes I lay motionless but mind aflame. I can't do this anymore. My mind was screaming.
What to do? Turn over. Retreat into a world of chemically induced emptiness? Run? Get up? Face that terrifying world? In the end I did the last of these options and went in. Driven mainly by fear of what people will think of another day off sick I braved the empty storm of summer at the university.
Several hours later I'm home. I have no idea what to do with myself. Do I eat? Stare at the TV? Read? What? Tired and empty. But I am relieved that I made it through the day. And the only really meaningful action of the day proved to my hesitant mind that when I'm good I'm really good. So why don't I believe myself?
Only 2 days ago I was at +2. Now I'm in free fall. The question is where will I come to rest? And when and where do I bounce back? Let us hope it is tomorrow.
I Heard a Voice.
Completely out of the blue after a troubled night's sleep I woke filled with terror and couldn't move. I just wanted to be swallowed up by someone or something to take away that dread of not be able to function. My mood plummeted, my anxiety soared and for several minutes I lay motionless but mind aflame. I can't do this anymore. My mind was screaming.
What to do? Turn over. Retreat into a world of chemically induced emptiness? Run? Get up? Face that terrifying world? In the end I did the last of these options and went in. Driven mainly by fear of what people will think of another day off sick I braved the empty storm of summer at the university.
Several hours later I'm home. I have no idea what to do with myself. Do I eat? Stare at the TV? Read? What? Tired and empty. But I am relieved that I made it through the day. And the only really meaningful action of the day proved to my hesitant mind that when I'm good I'm really good. So why don't I believe myself?
Only 2 days ago I was at +2. Now I'm in free fall. The question is where will I come to rest? And when and where do I bounce back? Let us hope it is tomorrow.
I Heard a Voice.
Monday 1 August 2016
Trusted Friends and How it Once Was.
A light drizzle has been gently falling for the past couple of hours. So many days in recent weeks have promised storms that never came. And finally cutting through the heavy air I feel refreshed by its gentle fall.
What a strange day. I went to the Doctor to get my foot looked at. Quite what asking me twice if I smoke and how much I drink have to do with an infected toe I have no idea. Late in most were not there. A quiet morning with no pressure followed by an interlude looking but not buying much at the Galleria. I did come away with two books but they were free on my long neglected Christmas voucher card. Then back for a meeting with one of my oldest and most trusted allies.
Spending an hour and half with her reminded my why I do what I do. I have often said I have many allies but those with the power to help choose not to. But a year on from her elevation to exalted height I was back with someone to trust, who understands what I do and will given time back me.
On Thursday we will hold court together on some training. She wants me to tell my story. She recognises that that is the power. And so a day in which for a while my faith in humanity, compassion and empathy was restored.
Later on a tricky issue I had superb help and interaction with a trainee social worker on a placement that answered all I hoped it would and more. There are some great people out there.
I think today my mood has breached +2 for the first time in a while. I hope it continues.
I Heard a Voice
What a strange day. I went to the Doctor to get my foot looked at. Quite what asking me twice if I smoke and how much I drink have to do with an infected toe I have no idea. Late in most were not there. A quiet morning with no pressure followed by an interlude looking but not buying much at the Galleria. I did come away with two books but they were free on my long neglected Christmas voucher card. Then back for a meeting with one of my oldest and most trusted allies.
Spending an hour and half with her reminded my why I do what I do. I have often said I have many allies but those with the power to help choose not to. But a year on from her elevation to exalted height I was back with someone to trust, who understands what I do and will given time back me.
On Thursday we will hold court together on some training. She wants me to tell my story. She recognises that that is the power. And so a day in which for a while my faith in humanity, compassion and empathy was restored.
Later on a tricky issue I had superb help and interaction with a trainee social worker on a placement that answered all I hoped it would and more. There are some great people out there.
I think today my mood has breached +2 for the first time in a while. I hope it continues.
I Heard a Voice
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