What of Tomorrow?

A full moon awaits us tomorrow evening. England clash with Belgium in the World Cup. And the weekend is nigh. I look forward to all three in a way. We are coming to the end of my first month back at work. Four weeks completed when I head home on Friday. Not without incident although nothing major I have none the less stuck with it. The plan has not quite gone to plan and we are a little behind in timings but I haven't run away in terror.

Terror did strike me with its callous cruelty the moment I woke early on Sunday morning. It was a very difficult day on which I was convinced all that I have achieved had come to nothing and the end is nigh. But I forced myself to risk seeing people at the football in the pub and by throwing caution and fear to the wind and inviting friends to dinner. Hard though it was it helped.

That fear is back in the shadows now. The fierce heat and glorious sun of this week continues. My mood is around neutral which whilst I don't like it is safer than the heights of Friday evening. That lasted but a few hours sadly. Sadly for me but perhaps not for everyone else.

Sussex Sarah flew back from Florida today. Kiwi Sarah flew back from Finland on Monday. I hope to catch up with them both soon. As Kiwi Sarah said in a text it has been way too long. My attempts at frugality this month on the face of it have paid off although the proof or otherwise will reveal itself tomorrow. For after the full moon comes pay day.

For now though my thoughts are on Verdi, Waugh and the delights of my kitchen. Simple tonight, a rare venture into pasta with a leftover tomato sauce, a little parmasan and parsley. It was pretty good. The next question is do I pour myself a chilled glass of Chablis and retire to the balcony? I will still be able to hear Falstaff out there although I will have to improvise a chair.

Have a great evening everyone.

I Heard a Voice.

A Fleeting Glimpse of the Heavens.

I have waited so long for it to happen. Despite recent improvements I have never got to where I want to be. Oh mood, why do you let me down? Why can't I fly again? See the heavens and top the world. It has been so long that I'd forgotten what it felt like. Until last night.

Yes it came out of nowhere. A soaring, heavenly sense that once again I was flying. The world was indeed my oyster. My voice became louder. My thinking faster. My tolerance diminished. And I was back. It was but a fleeting few hours after such a long absence. But it was wonderful.

Aware that I needed to keep a lid on things and avoid alienating my friends I fought to keep it under control. Everyone said how much better I was. Thank God I finally made it back to the promised land. I have dwelt in darkness oh so long. And now shining, glittering light.

So with a heavy heart I realised it had gone by morning. And I spent a gloomy couple of hours mourning my loss of contentment. It's not that today I feel depressed. I'm tired but not depressed. It is just that my buzzy times are so wonderful it was a way to fall.

Back in reality I did the washing, the shopping, the mopping and the sweeping. A light salad for lunch and now Classic FM. I bought some beef to roast beautifully rare tomorrow. And for tonight skate. I'm quite a fan although I've only ever cooked it once and that was years ago. Do I do traditional brown butter and capers or to Spain with sherry vinegar? I have the afternoon to decide. Let's hope I sleep better tonight and that wondrous illusion that is my good times returns. Well as long as I don't piss anyone off.

I Heard a Voice.

Strawberries in the Sun.

What a beautiful day it has been. Warm, sunny, relaxed and Friday. Friday is always good. I have completed my third week back at work and although a little behind schedule it has been a better week. True I had a moment of fear when I woke and thought back to that I can't get out of bed moment but it passed.

Surviving a quiet day I came home at my allotted time to a bowl of strawberries and a chilled glass of Albarino. Given it is the English summer I should really have bought some Chapel Down Bacchus but I didn't think. But the Albarino is a splendid substitute.

With the evening wearing on and the still bright light a day after the summer solstice I'm listening to Beethoven's Fidelio and sipping a cold beer. The world seems my oyster tonight although I'm not being that adventurous. What I do feel is relaxed and that has been in short supply in 2018. Long may it last.

Returning to my mood diary after a long absence it is pleasing that most of this week has been in plus territory. Only just and nowhere near my glorious mini highs but better than much of the year.

Tomorrow is another day and I'm hoping I wake refreshed, relaxed and energised. Charlie has invited me to Borough Market tomorrow as he is in town. Rather than commit to an early start I have advised that I will decide in the morning. The thought of a late lunch a Brindisa is most enticing but I don't want to sabotage recent progress by overdoing things. Also can't spend too much if I go, certainly overdid my exuberance last time we met.

The rest of the weekend is set fair so enjoy it, chill and savour the wonders of a glorious English summer.

I Heard a Voice.

Hiding in the Shadows.

I'm listening to the most recent King's recording of the Mozart Requiem. Rather lacks passion but then Stephen Cleobury's conducting was never that. At least in comparison to his predecessor. I knew both of course. Ledger died a few months after mum. If you trawl back long enough on here you will find my thoughts on going to his funeral. It's a while since I listened to a lot of King's; become a bit too stuck on opera recently.

There is not much cheer out on a dull, overcast and rather chilly day. I do not want to face the world today and will be content to hide in the shadows. My waking moments were full of fear. The last few days in general have not been easy. So I have in the main hidden from people. I did briefly pop out last night but didn't like the attention that I drew so quickly withdrew.

Next week we up the hours and we up the ante. Am I ready for that? Will I survive my first student contact? Can I match expectation? Things are pretty unsettled there at the moment. Unusually frenetic for June there have been more resignations. Will others follow I wonder? My feelings on returning fluctuate day to day. I think I have achieved something just going in. That seemed a life time away in my darkest moments. I haven't fled for the hills so overwhelmed with fear I was sick. And yes that happened too in the darkest moments.

Part of my fear is do I have the time and energy needed to build the resilience enough for the onslaught in September? For reasons I don't fully understand they have brought forward the start of next academic year. So less of the autumn to appreciate the falling leaves and morning mists in relative serenity. Once the starting gun goes off all hell breaks loose.

For me though I must put that all in perspective. There is time to go, there is support and there is therapy. God I hate that word. My first session went surprisingly well. I'm relieved to be faced with a human and emotion being on the other side of the room rather than a deadpan statue as some therapists seem to cultivate. Why do they do that? They call it boundaries. Oh for some humanity but I think I have found some. Next session Thursday week.

And for the rest of this Sunday afternoon? A small shoulder of pork joint will go in the oven around 3 pm for a fiery blast followed by a slow leisurely cooking at much lower temperature. Perhaps a short walk once it's underway. See you in the week.

I Heard a Voice.

Gun Shy After the Layoff?

For those of you who share my passion for the NFL it goes without saying that the 1985 Chicago Bears team that took Super Bowl XX has to rank amongst the greatest teams in league history. I argue they are the greatest I ever saw. What is forgotten in the hype about the Fridge, Jim McMahon and the legendary late Walter Payton was what happened to the team they vanquished in that epic victory. More specifically Tony Eason the Patriots quarterback who never recovered from the devastating destruction by the famous 46 defense. I don't recall specifically but if I recall he only played another couple of years before being forgotten. He had become what they call gun shy.

Leaving work yesterday the term gun shy seemed apt for me. Yes I have made it through two weeks which even a month ago would have seemed impossible. Something to be proud of. But for the first time the spectre of could I ever have the emotional resilience to my trouble shooting, high end, serious mental illness role ever return? Ako vaguely touched on it last time I ventured into the world of psychiatrists. In truth I have my doubts. But the suggested rather than implied option to drop down to a lower grade and have less stress was not one I wanted to hear. It was implied rather than anything else but alarmed me.

A day later I'm a bit wiped out. All at sea and thinking a lot of what once was and what may be to come. It is another anniversary day, 27 years since this all started on a sunny Saturday morning in Cambridge just before May Week. A single missive, carefully written, yes in those days we did write letters, sent me reeling into oblivion.

Many will laud my survival after all that. The next decade or so was pretty dreadful. Not always my own kindest friend on days when I feel low I can see no merit in that battle. It was just something I did. When faced with mental illness you either fight back or lay down to die. Eventually I fought back. And all these years later on days like today I have to fight back.

So Handel plays, I've done some domestic stuff that was causing me anxiety. And I have swordfish for my dinner. As for those tortured thoughts of depression that enclose me round about like the fat bulls of Basan in the psalms, I must sit them out and learn to fight another day.

I Heard a Voice.

Tearing up the Asphalt.

The intense heat and stifling closeness of recent days has given way to a much fresher feel today. Not seen a lot of the sun. But I'm okay.

This morning was the first time since I went back that I didn't wake before the alarm. Expecting a difficult night I slept better than I feared. The culprit was the council ripping up the road outside my flat and completely relaying the surface. It was quite interesting watching huge machines going on their destructive path expertly guided under the bright lights by men in hi vis suits choreographing a vast undertaking. I knew nothing about it until I saw a sign entering my road yesterday afternoon.

Some seven days have been accrued thus far on my return. People continue to way lay me on my travels and delight in me being back. Does that raise the bar of expectation? I raise it so high myself that I don't really need others to encourage me.

Tomorrow I'm having coffee with the big boss. I have been hoping to do that since last summer but given how stupidly busy she is I haven't tried to set anything up. What I do know is that even in the darkest times there I feel at ease in her company. In an ideal world we would all feel like that all the time but I do not live in an ideal world.

My mood diary remains fairly upbeat thus far. Will that continue? I do hope so. The acid test will be around 2.50 pm tomorrow when my psychology session  finishes. I still have very mixed feelings about going back to therapy but will try to be optimistic.

For now though I have the wonderful Figaro playing and intend to make more progress on Brideshead.

Wish me luck for tomorrow and have a good week, mid point comes tomorrow lunch time!

I Heard a Voice.

Hadyn on Saturday.

Hi out there, I made it through my first week back! Not long ago that would have seemed all but impossible. My post of Wednesday reflected the most challenged I felt all week. There has been a lot of change and  I'm not certain where if anywhere I fit into all that but the end of the week was a little more manageable.

As I expected I have been pretty tired. Sounds silly only doing a few hours a day but it is ever thus when one returns from such a long sojourn away from reality. I'm still apprehensive about the future but a mantra of a day at a time will suffice for the time being.

On this rather humid Saturday afternoon I'm trying to keep going with tedious domesticity, shopping, washing and cleaning. Hadyn is my partner for the afternoon, shortly to return to do the dusting.

The kitchen delights remain a conundrum today. I have a few things in, smoked haddock for lunch followed by English strawberries. I'm trying to decide whether to consummate my pasta sauce I made last night or to pan fry plaice fillets with Jersey Royals and English asparagus. Feeling rather indecisive today. Whatever I do I think it will be okay.

During the week I started up on my mood diary again. For some reason, probably couldn't face how low I was, I neglected it during the long months of my recent downturn. We're hovering around about plus territory I think. It may sound odd but it is never easy to hear the social media chatter on the Queen's Birthday Honours. Inevitably with the Cambridge connections there is always someone I know or know of who gets a gong and reminds me once again that my life did not exactly go to plan. The expectation of Cambridge is way beyond anything I have ever been able to deliver in my life and sometimes reinforces that sense of being inadequate. Similarly when I get alumni magazines.

Yet as I learned in recent months many people I consider to be wildly successful have their battles not too dissimilar to mine. I just assume everyone is doing better than me. Well that ain't necessarily so.

Have good weekend.

I Heard a Voice.

Looking in from Outside.

The urge to walk into town to see Yang and indulge in The Fu Hao was tremendous today. Partly driven by ribs, partly driven by seeing my friend and partly because I felt too tired to cook. But I tarried a while at home then summoned up the energy to cook pork with chilli and basil. It was okay but no more than that.

Often my going out is as a result of a bad day. Why not indulge in ribs and a couple of Tsing Tao beers and escape the box that is my home? However, it is clear that I need to economise and limit my indulgence. In truth today was not a bad day. It is just that it is taking some adjustment and soul searching now I am finally back to work.

Three days in I suppose it is going okay. So many people seem genuinely delighted to see me and tell me they have missed me. I don't often find that easy to hear. Harder though is a sense that I have been pushed aside. Like an outsider looking in. My pessimistic and suspicious anxiety makes me feel uneasy at times.

More people are leaving and I'm not sure what to make of it. If you had read this blog for a while you will be well aware that I forever battle on my unquiet mind whether to leave or stay. Still that formed part of my recent travails. But where to? I have thought of walking away but that's not really a very practical option. But it makes me uneasy that so many have left and no one is asking a question about that. Maybe they are but I'm not party to that conversation.

I'm hanging onto the fact that I knew I would be tired, I knew I would have doubts, and I knew it would take time. Life without certainty can be unsettling.

My psychiatrist thinks I need longer away. Perhaps I had underestimated the depth of darkness to which I succumbed. My previous dealings with so many psychiatrists always felt as if they thought I was lying. I didn't feel believed. So I guess they did believe me this time. He asked legitimately how I would cope when the world is going mad, my caseload is too much and yet another emergency call came in? The answer is I don't think I will. Is that not the essence of being jaded and burned out?

But there is time before that happens. What we have put in place re psychology will I hope focus on getting me to a position where such a devastating relapse does not destroy me again when autumn comes. I must keep focused on what is in front of me not what is weeks ahead.

For opera night I have put on Idomeneo, quite a while since I listened to that. Enjoy the rest of the week, the weekend will appear on the horizon shortly.

I Heard a Voice.

A Year of Tears.

On this day last year my favourite London spot was savagely attacked by deluded zealots driving a van at passersby then stabbing anyone who got in their path. The papers reported that all three attackers were dead within 8 minutes of the first call to the police. Borough Market has long been part of my life. The terrible tragedy of the modern world and a battle of ideologies driven by hate that markets have been a target for as long as we can remember. The Middle East is littered with wrecked markets and the blood of those out buying sustenance. Did we ever believe in my relatively peaceful country a market would also be targeted?

Many tears no doubt have been shed in that year. It took me a long time to go back and when I did the crowds were noticeably smaller. The sad thing is it leads to radicalisation on all sides. It was not long later than a racist right winger drove a van at a crowd leaving a mosque killing one and injuring many. I do not understand the ideology of hate.

In my small part of the world I'm making my way through the last day of my long sojourn in the wilderness. As I feared the moment I woke today I was troubled. That creeping fear of what if I don't sleep enveloped me in darkness and for the first couple of hours I was up made me think I can't do this.

A few hours on I'm calmer. I went for a drive to The Waggoners and bumped into my friends Alyssa and Ted. Just a single pint, an iced water and a chat this time. I do like my country pub trips on days when I'm not working.

Roast chicken is on the menu tonight. I toyed with the idea of inviting friends but don't want to put too much pressure on myself so I will eat alone. As the Test Match is still on no opera for me today. Maybe I'll listen this evening. And then the feared sleep. Wish me well tomorrow.

I Heard a Voice.

Sultry Air, Will the Thunder Come?

The stifling, sultry atmosphere today shows no signs of abating. It is clouding over and the sun is obscured but will the thunder break the heat and downpour wash away the sweat of the day? My flat is relatively cool so doing okay but it was hard going on my afternoon walk.

England's march back towards respectability at Headingly after the debacle at Lord's may well owe a lot to those humid, sticky conditions. The world was mystified why England chose to bat first last weekend. Will Pakistan be similarly criticised for making the same decision then getting blown away by the swinging ball? I'm told there is no scientific reason why a cricket ball should swing in these conditions but it does.

My first waking moment was filled with terror. At 6 am jolting awake made me fear for Monday. I was relieved I had decided to take the rest of this week as leave rather than return today. For I knew at that early hour had I been going in I would not have slept further. My fear is that will happen on Monday morning.

There was a tentative plan to have lunch with Sarah but half term running out and work commitments not complete she cancelled. No worries though, I have been able to relax, enjoy the cricket and soak up the final days of leisure.

It feels too hot to cook so instead I will do a crab and apple salad with mint and mayonnaise dressing and a squeeze of lemon juice. I last did that quite successfully for my grand Easter Sunday lunch. I suspect that a chilled glass of Albarino will go very nicely with it.

At lunch time I also did salad followed by a bowl of English strawberries. I'm told we're in for a bumper crop although problems harvesting it possibly down to Brexit may mean some goes to ruin. Even back in the distant past fruit and vegetable pickers were often from eastern Europe. Now my country seems less palatable to these people without whom our agriculture might be in trouble. I do try to buy British if I can but sometimes it is so much more expensive than produce from elsewhere. How crazy is that?

Whatever you have planned, enjoy the weekend, sleep, relax and dodge the storms if indeed they do materialise.

I Heard a Voice.