The Sunshine of Autumn.

On a sunny Sunday afternoon in September I bid you a fond hello. Thank you for sticking with me after the tumultuous months that have characterised 2026 for me. No the devil didn't speak. And as per my last post I have been delivered from evil. Truly this year I've seen inside the gates of hell.

Mentally and physically it has taken its toll. I'm back with a care co-cordinator for the first time since last millenia and I now weigh less than 10 stone. Still I keep going and fighting on.

This quiet Sunday I'm listening to Puccini and cooking roast gammon. To be served with roast potatoes, cauliflower, carrots and tenderstem broccoli, gravy and fiery English mustard. Heaven on a Sunday. No wine today, fancy a pint in a country pub instead.

A key part of recent challenges has been the overwhelming isolation of the last few weeks. Excepting staff in shops who know me I've gone days at a time seeing no one. Of course that happened during covid but hard all the same.

Tonorrow I return to my office. I'm not really too anxious about this but do anticipate some adjustment being needed over a few weeks.

I did get away in the week to Folkestone. Always good to get away. Pretty good journey home yesterday. There was a major fire just over the road from where I was staying which has made national headlines. The following morning from the cab conveying me to the station I saw more fire engines in one place than I've ever witnessed before.

Sadly the world appears to be burning too. The result of powerful, angry men who serve but themselves. We live in dangerous times.

I Heard a Voice.

And Deliver Us From Evil.

A grey but mild September day I've yet to venture beyond my front door. Haydn plays, my book is page turning and a single rib of beef is coming up to room temperature in the kitchen.

If you are reading apologies for the sparse and somewhat cryptic messages I posted. I have been enveloped in darkness since late July. A darkness that was brutally evil. I have re-evaluated my concept and understanding of evil. Much more common than I once believed.

No the devil did not speak. Well at least not directly to me. She hasn't done that since June and her messages remain unopened. No lurking out there in the fires of hell, the fog of contempt and the sewers of human depravity a darkness known longer but not detected sprang to life. And it was evil.

That I'm human and make a lot of mistakes is well known. God I beat myself up enough. But to wantonly prey on the vulnerability years later defies words.

On Thursday a single text delivered me from evil. Left is relief, anger and sadness. My vulnerability has now switched from the depths of hell to the dangerous, glorious heights and dazzling heaven that is mania. I'm fighting hard to contain that, Risperidone at the ready.

But I'm free. And on this Sunday I look forward to roast beef, to Chianti, to reading, and to opera.

I Heard a Voice 

A Book and a Beer.

What to say about the last fews weeks? It's been really tough and I've had to take a step back from many normal aspects of my life. Shut off from work I've been extremely isolated. This is compounded by my local pub having shut. So only sporadic contact with friends.

That said people have gone to great lengths to support me. Most recently Jayne came down from Cambridge yesterday and we spent a lovely afternoon together lunching at The Waggoners then quaffing chilled white Toscana back at my flat.

The flat is where I am now listening to Lucio Silla, cooking roast rolled breast of turkey and reading my book, The Land Where Lemons Grow. It's beautiful book. That I've made such progress with it is because I've taken myself off on the bus, book in hand, to some of the pubs in Welwyn a couple of times a week.

Wonderfully peaceful, a pint of ale and my book. This course of action has helped me get by on dark days.

This week is pretty empty. A work contact on Wednesday on the phone. Then my new care co-ordinator in the afternoon. A strong measure of how much I've been struggling is that I now have such a person for the first time since the later 1990s. Fear stalks the halls of the powerful. That they are worried is clear. I'm known by so many in my part of the world, a very high profile statistic.

For now I leave you. My friend Gary is coming for lunch. Tomorrow will be tomorrow.

I Heard a Voice.

I Saw the Rain.

After months of intense heat and humidity, parched earth and yellow grass the rains finally came on Thursday. At last a break from it all.

Rain aside Thursday did not go to plan. Sat in a 15th century pub in St Albans with my book I got an unexpected call from Harry my therapist. Therapists never call especially from mobile numbers. Not sure what I said to him on Wednesday but it spooked enough to get other eyes on me.

So I boarded a bus and pitched up at the mental health team and spent an hour with a nurse. A very senior nurse. Important people are worried. I was impressed with her. Human and giving just like me.

I'm not where I was on Thursday but I had a Saturday in near total isolation which was hard. Too early to tell how I feel today but I have Handel opera, my book and half a chicken to roast for my lunch.

After lunch I'm going round to see friends. With The Hedgehog now closed at least for the moment I have few places to go.

Going forward it is just day to day. But I will ride out the storm.

I Heard a Voice

Surprise Contacts.

Been a while since I was on here. Nothing to say and taking a step back from a few things in my life. It's a mild, sunny Sunday morning here. A step change from the intense heat and humidity that has characterised our summer for weeks on end.

I'm home listening to The Magic Flute. I read a chapter in my book and I need to think about preparing lunch. My friend Jasmine is joining me for roast lamb. Later than planned as she was late back with her poorly son.

Trying to step back has not been easy. Yesterday my plan to just chat to friends over a pint but ended up being much longer than planned due to various unexpected visitors to the pub.

Last night likewise. Seeing my friend Emma whose late mum lived downstairs from me was unexprcted. Still struggling to make sense of her mum's death I was tied up in an intense conversation so I was much later home than I'd hoped.

Today I hope to be more restrained. Need to stay alert for a meeting I'm having tomorrow. Enjoy your Sunday all.

I Heard a Voice.

Sunday of Opera, Reading and Roast Lamb.

It has just gone midday on a quiet Sunday. Handel's Julius Caesar is playing. A half shoulder of lamb is slow roasting in the oven. And I've read another two chapters of my book.

Not been here for a while. I have been exploring other areas of social media. My posts on TikTok about mental health, communication, barriers, challenges are attracting some interest.

In my working life things are going well. Busy last week. I'm off to the Royal College of Psychiatrists on 16th...hang out with the self appointed important people. At some point this week I'm talking to important people about getting candidates onto Clinical Psychology Doctoral programmes. Number 1 priority is being strong enough to stand up to consultant psychiatrists.

Therapy continues each Wednesday afternoon in same brutalising, intense, humbling and shocking way. I knew it would be hard though. One day at a time.

I'll heading to the coast after my trip to London. See my dad, my friends and to walk along the beach.

England play tonight in the World Cup but as kickoff is not until 1 am I won't watch as I have to work tomorrow.

Enjoy your Sunday.

I Heard a Voice.

Heat and Echoes of the Past.

I was musing with Sarah in the week on what friendship actually means. People say "you can count the number of true friends on the fingers of one hand". Just over a week ago I lost a friend of 15 years because she misinterpreted something I did. The wisdom of Sarah rightly pointed out "if she was a true friend she would have challenged you on it during a conversation not just told you to fuck off".

I struggle with self esteem and sense of self. Try as I might to use my knowledge of language to do good sometimes I get it wrong. My therapy sessions have a heavy dose of loss, endings and the actions of others.

The week that the devil addressed me directly three times has been very difficult. But hour by hour, day by day I got through. I have not opened the latest missives from her but the fact they were sent is really unsettling.

Back on a quiet but stifling hot Sunday morning I'm listening to Puccini, reading and roasting a chicken. A friend popped round to fix a small plumbing issue in my bathroom. Having spent most of yesterday seeing no one it was good to have a visitor.

Going back to friendship some years ago I was privileged to share a panel with the then CEO of MIND Paul Farmer at a mental health conference. His comment was interesting, "the problem with Facebook is it has redefined what a 'friend' is". Friendship is not a numbers game. What matters is authenticity. I know many many people but how many are there for me when I'm struggling? 48 hours of silence usually raises the alarm with my true friends. I must stop trying to be there for anyone especially if it is to my detriment. Devil go.

I Heard a Voice.