Well, I made it via a very precarious rail journey down to Kent. Had to change plans and come down on Monday to beat further appalling weather and left my car at home. But hey ho I'm here now.
I've lived off and on in Kent since I was 10 years old. The family moved down here in 1979 and my mum and dad still live in the same house. Not much changes, my mum swims in the sea in all weathers-she was in today despite the snow and ice; and they say I'm mad? People come and go but they always seem to be drawn back to the sea.
Kent has some very mixed emotions for me; it was here that I spent most of the darkest times when my madness was completely out of control. One of thing that emerged out of the darkness was a strange psychotic affinity for certain places, sounds, people and objects. My madness was characterised by symbolism.
So I found myself this morning walking a well trodden route through the melting snow to my old secret place by the water. In those days it was hidden from land and water but is now quite open and well used. That is a shame but progress brings some change. It was there that I talked incessantly to her voice-it was only after 1994 that the man's voice arrived-listened the mental jukebox, and slumped into the morass that was my insanity. It was a lonely silent place amongst the reeds, lillies and bullrushes (is that how you spell it?). One sunny summers day I spent a day with an adder not more than 4' away; it ignored me and carried on sunning itself.
Then one day I could no longer go there; too much pain. But now the pain has passed and I'm once again free to go where I like. But there is still that quiet, dark memory that one day my madness will strike again; it's a fear most of us live with.
Should be on here again before Christmas.
I Heard a Voice.
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