Et Resurrexit!

Today Christians celebrate the most important festival of their calender. A day of celebration, fine music, and good food. In years gone by I spent many an Easter Day singing in the great cathedrals of Europe-Lancing always toured at Easter. That all seems so long ago. On Friday I mentioned Lotti's "Crucifixus" the moment in the creed that Jesus was crucified, dead and buried. One of the early chapters of "A Pillar of Impotence" marks that moment with the chapter title "Passus et sepultus est."

The next part of the creed comes today. "Et resurrexit tertia dies", and rose again on the 3rd day. In the great masses of Christian music that is the moment the music shifts from minor keys to major keys. Such settings are divine whether one has faith or not. The end of my first story was so unexpected and triumphant that I used those words "Et resurrexit" to mark the final chapter in my book. Arrogant perhaps but a fitting title after all those years in the underworld of mental illness.

Dad and Miriam went to church today; I did not. Not heard much music sadly but we had a magnificent Easter lunch of roast duck which Miriam cooked and we devoured. Now in the hazy brightness of a late afternoon in spring, the sun is out but it remains bitterly cold. For me time starts speeding up from Easter. "Yet a little while and I will be clean gone"-and so soon in a fleeting blink of an eye September will arrive and it is back to the cycle of my life. Am I wishing my life away? Maybe, but I have future now which for many years I didn't. I just don't know what that future holds.

I Heard a Voice.

The East Wind Blows.

Have any of you lived by the sea? If you have, are you always drawn back to it? I am. Back in Kent it has been a mix of chaos and beauty. This morning the snow came down surprisingly heavily given that it is the Easter weekend. This afternoon we have a had bright sunshine which made me scurry for my shades. It is after all Kent in late March. But what has accompanied the last few days is a bitter icy easterly wind. And when the wind blows from the east it is cold, oh so cold here. It has kept me away from my beloved sea. I hope I will make it there before I go home.

Today was a mix of planned and unplanned. I met the bipolar Lynne. Great to see her after some time apart. Yet also in the pub were some old friends, nanny Sue and grand-daughter Lola. I think the latter must be about 8 by now. And she is a most precocious child. She announced proudly that she had read my book. Not really a story for 8 year olds. Then she announced she wanted to take my book to school for the teacher to read it to her class. Definitely not a good idea. Actually she is the second child who has asked to take my book to school. I don't think it would go down well-might freak them out somewhat. Maybe when they are older.

Tonight we are off to the Hong Kong House whilst dad goes to church-he does the full complement of services at Easter. We are then meeting friends I've not seen for a while. Sadly Lola's uncle James will not be joining us as planned; he won't be leaving Surrey until tomorrow.

Time has flown by since I came down. Only 3 days to go now. Then it is back northward for a stint at home. Let's hope I'm refreshed in a week when I have to return to the university.

I Heard a Voice.

The Missing Music.

Good Friday was always fun back in the King's days. In part that was because once we had finished singing in the morning we were free for the rest of the day. Better still though was the music. Allegri's "Miserere" and Lotti's "Crucifixus" simply stunned the congregation in that mighty building. It wasn't until years later that I realised that the Lotti was but a part of larger "Credo". I have fine recording of it at home.

Since then I have carried on the tradition of listening to both pieces of music on Good Friday. Sadly not this year though-I left the CDs at home. Must rectify that failure when I get home on Tuesday.

We made it the crematorium yesterday. Sadly, although the sun continued the strong wind prevented us spreading the ashes in the sea. I guess we will do that another time. The day passed without incident and I had a splendid evening in the pub with Miriam.

Today I went out for lunch and had my hair cut. I'm getting used to my new glasses-the lens area is much smaller that on my old pair so I'm getting used to the odd sensation of moving my head rather than my eyes to see. For those who don't know me I normally wear contact lenses but it is good to take a break sometimes.

Later I will be improvising a Sri Lankan prawn curry. I made a paste earlier that smells fragrant and fiery-hope I don't blow everyone away. Tomorrow I meet with another old friend Lynne. And yes you have guessed it she has bipolar too. Us crazies must stick together.

Meetings aside I am enjoying the rest. No stress to think of which is a marked change from the last few weeks. Perhaps I will get back to my normal self if I can still find it. The last few months have made me question once again who I am and what I'm doing. Most importantly I have got through the critical February-March axis without crashing. But as the Duke of Wellington once said "it was a close run thing". Here is to staying well!

I Heard a Voice.

Sun is in the Sky!

As March heads towards history and April beckons the sun has finally broken through the gloom of recent weeks. Tomorrow is Good Friday-I will be forced to eat fish-and on Sunday it is the Boat Race. All hail the coming of the Pimm's season!

Time has flown. It was a year ago today that mum died. I am down in Kent with my dad and Miriam is here. They are off shopping and I'm trying to work out how to warm my feet up; the sun may be out but it remains cold and windy. Theoretically we will spread my mum's remaining ashes in the sea later but that depends on the continued sunshine and calm.

I am relieved to be away from work. What a term. Who knows where I will be this time next year. What I do know is that by then "Charon's Ferry" will be a reality in concrete form. People ask if I will write another book. Maybe but not yet.

My return to Hertfordshire is scheduled for next Tuesday. The following day I will go to St Albans and visit a Greek restaurant. Then on the Thursday I will head for Borough Market with the wonderful Dory; she will see the sites of "A Pillar of Impotence". Finally to rest. Well not strictly true as I will be proofing the book. There may be another post today but for now goodbye.

I Heard a Voice.

A Walk on the Dark Side.

"In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth." So begins Haydn's masterpiece "The Creation". But he did not just create that, he created the deep as well. "And darkness was upon the face of the deep". Well for the past 4 days I have visited the deep in the company of the incomparable Mintu.

When I came home from yet another overwhelming week at work on Friday I was not sure I had the energy to spend 4 days with my friend of 33 years. I knew glimpses of his life from his e mails and what Heather had told me. I knew I would be remembering walking on the dark side and that we are very different people. Yet today I emerged invigorated.

That is it, we both walked in darkness for so long on other sides of the globe. Me through madness and Mintu through addiction. We had a lot in common. I don't know whether it was God who changed out lives. I know my dad would believe that. Mum too if she were still with us. Both of us had spiritual experiences of a Buddhist flavour. In my folly I have turned my back on that but he has not.

What really matters though is that we both got out, alive, different and well. I fear a return of my madness but I sense Mintu does not fear a return to his addiction. I hope we meet again before another 30 years elapses. I do think though that those 4 days of inspirations, talking in the way that only crazies can has helped me move away from the abyss on whose edge I have teetered for the last few desolate months.

Today I received 2 pieces of good news. Beka has completed the cover of "Charon's Ferry" and the publisher has given me an estimated timetable of 2 months until publication of the paperback. I will start a final proof when I return from dad's next week. Before then though we will experience the first anniversary of mum's death. God it has gone fast. So think of us on Thursday as we mourn our dead. It is but 1 day in a long journey. We all experience loss in our journey. Mintu and I should surely have been lost a long time ago. But we survived. Until next time.

I Heard a Voice.

An Omelette and 2 Paracetamol.

Many a lunchtime in my life is spent perusing the book shops. Actually after the recession few still survive but my passion remains. As you can imagine I have huge collection of cookery books. Each time I visit a shop I see and want more. But there are too few funds. One I do intend to buy though is Elizabeth David's "An Omelette and a Glass of Wine".

Today I had an omelette resplendent with bacon, coriander and gruyere cheese. Way too early for wine particularly after last night. I rarely drink cider but when cooking with it I don't like to waste it. With a chicken in cider casserole on the go I combined the cider with lager for the forbidden snakebite. This morning I recalled why I gave that up years ago. God my head! So it was paracetamol rather than wine that went with y omelette.

This afternoon with headache gone I did some cleaning in preparation for the visit of the man from beyond the sea. The snow did come down in the early hours but the roads are fine so will pick him up later this afternoon. For now though I am listening to Puccini and returning to my great look of books. Just started Jeanette Winterson, an author I have not read before.

I Heard a Voice.

PS Beka has nearly completed the cover for "Charon's Ferry"-it looks great!

A Man From Beyond the Sea.

Way back in 1980 as a 10 year old I toured Australia for the first time. I turned 11 staying in Melbourne with a woman called Heather and her son Dean. Dean's birthday was in the same week and we had a joint birthday party although he is a year older than me. In 1983 I toured again and saw Dean and Heather for a 2nd time-he was a changed man. In 1994 when I was in hospital Heather took me out for lunch and told me a little of Dean's troubles.

Tomorrow Dean or Mintu as he is now known and I will met again. He comes via cancer, addiction, mental illness, New Zealand and Germany and I come via breakdown, suicide, weed, psychosis and final redemption. It could be a long few days as we catch up. Heather died 2 years ago, my mum died almost exactly a year; I guess we have much to talk about.

I am shattered after another carnage filled week at work. Sooner or later it will overwhelm me. I was speaking to my friend Mala today. She is overwhelmed too but at least as she put it she has order in her life-her diary is set out. Mine is not, when the shit hits the fan I go shovelling shit.

Thanks God I only have 3 more working days until the break. Then is off to see dad again. That is of course if the weather lets me. Nothing here yet but we are expecting a white out tomorrow. Whatever happens I hope it does not stop me seeing the man from beyond the sea.

I Heard a Voice.

Another Long Day.

Well it is all still going on my end. Had a trip to A&E today followed by a meeting. It is very helpful getting to know people beyond my immediate environment. Change is in the air but some choose to ignore that. Sadly the change won't happen for another 14 months, hopefully I will have left by then. If I stay I don't know what is in store for me-that is for more important people to decide.

I think I have stepped back from the rage of the weekend. It is rage that drives relapse. As I took the train to Kent on Friday I had it on my mind to visit my Doctor and get signed off as a precaution. Maybe I'll still do that. I do need to see him but time won't allow at the moment. That is for the future.

As of now I am home, have the washing on-yes domestic tedium continues apace-and there is a Vietnamese beef curry on the hob. It smells very good and has been successful on previous attempts. We are not doing the quiz tonight so it is back to the TV and an ale of 2. Until next time, bye.

I Heard a Voice.

The Wind and the Rain.

Looking out the window of my dad's house I'm glad I did not venture out this afternoon-it is filthy out there. Rain is pouring down and the wind is sweeping and lashing that rain onwards. It is a bit like my mood yesterday.

I came home yet again late after yet another crisis that never happened. If I could have I would have walked out. Then as I waited for my train there was yet another out of hours call. Well enough is enough, I don't don't get paid enough to do this shit. Something has to change but I'm not sure what to do about it. I have been concocting potential e mails all the way down here but not come up with anything suitable. Nor do I yet know to whom I should direct my e mail-to the top perhaps.

My mind is still afire but not where it was yesterday. I'm slow roasting belly pork in dad's aga-not much of a fan of them-and there is the marvelous smell of pork, garlic and fennel seeds permeating the house. Dad, Miriam and Nigel have gone to the crematorium with a plant for mum. As we approach the anniversary of her death I too will have to make that journey. She still invades my dreams, some are good most are bad. God I hate dreaming.

Tonight I will go to the Butt of Sherry for several pints of Directors. Tomorrow with my cousin Cedric also here we will celebrate dad's birthday in a country pub. After that it will be a slow journey home, the trains are interrupted both from here to London and from London to home-they never get it right when I want to travel.

I Heard a Voice.

PS Let's hope for an England Grandslam later!!!

Laugh Out Loud.

There were many things in life my mum didn't like or didn't approve of. She hated swearing-I swear a lot. She didn't approve of drinking-I drink far too much. And in the main she detested comedians. Well much of my life I was with her on that last one. Most stand ups I simply do not find very funny. Those that are funny in the main swear a lot and that gets tedious after a while.

Much to my surprise, last night I sat and watched "Live at the Apollo"-and by God did I laugh. I'm not sure why I stuck with it but a combination of Omid Djalili, Reginald D Hunter, and Julian Clary had me laughing out loud-that is very rare! Unlike most people I never use that appalling acronym lol on my texts-perhaps David Cameron should have followed my lead a few months ago.

Talking of the PM I was thoroughly unamused when he told the media there will be no cuts to the NHS. Well at the last count my local Mental Health Trust, HPFT was facing a 20% cut in budget. Someone must be lying. They have been laying off staff for months and have had a pay freeze for a couple of years. These are indeed dark times for us.

Back in my life it remains overwhelming-I simply can't keep up. But I am okay. There is a Burmese chicken curry slowly cooking on the hob, I had pancakes earlier, and soon Rick Stein will be on. Off to see dad on Friday weather permitting. It does look bad in Kent but hopefully a big thaw will aid my plan.

I Heard a Voice.

So Much for Spring.

It is now 11.40 UK time in my quiet part of Hertfordshire. Another Sunday, another break from the chaos of my life. The Messiah plays in the background. There is a joint of beef in the fridge and a bottle of Chianti warming on the top. And I find myself on here contradicting my last post. It is bitterly cold out and there are flakes of snow in air. So different to Tuesday when I was last on here.

A year ago I was in the dark despair of my relapse. Although I have feared another one this year it has not happened. In truth I have no idea where my mood is today. I'm just too tired. After the end of last week I'm surprised I'm still standing. Believe me the mental dam at the university well and truly broke over me in the latter part of the week. But I survived. What cannot be done is to sustain such a level of effort that was required on Thursday and Friday. And it is shaping up to be a long Monday too.

So today I say fuck that, it can wait until tomorrow. I will sit back and enjoy the Handel, read the paper then watch the rugby this afternoon. Tomorrow does not come until tomorrow.

I Heard a Voice.

A Bright Sunshiny Day.

It has been a beautiful day round these parts. My bipolar people of awakening from their winter slumbers, the end of term is in sight, the sun is out and day I say it spring has arrived? Brave words I guess. After my bad week last week it seems my mood too is gently edging upwards.

Tuesdays are often difficult for me; last week was dreadful. Today was better. For today I had one of my most powerful allies visiting. With her came the vision for mental health in Hertfordshire in the future. Some parts sounded really exciting, others were terrifying. But what is clear as I point out at the end of "Charon's Ferry" is that being a professional nutter is no longer an option. Actually I fear many of my compatriots will not be happy with what I have to say about benefits and work. But as Miriam pointed out someone had to say it.

Coming away from the new vision though I still ask myself the questions, what is different? We embrace recovery, that is not new. We are asked to do more with less, no different. There will be a hierarchy of need. I have been saying this for years although it does appear PD may move up the pecking order. Get everyone in and out as fast as possible. They have been doing that ever since I entered the mental health system on a hot steamy day in July 1991. They failed then, will they fail now? Have we really overcome discrimination in the work place? Well I would say I am an exception not a rule. But the biggest question remains the same, who makes the judgement of severity??? That is where they got it catastrophically wrong in my case-it could have been resolved 5 years earlier. That story is all in "A Pillar of Impotence". My jury is still out on the future.

Of course I can't talk madness all the time. I'm home, had my fill of belly pork, I enjoyed my trip to Cambridge and I did some good today. Now that is always the bottom line, did I do some good. So I return to a quiet night of beer and TV-Rick Stein is on at 9 pm.

I Heard a Voice.

PS I now have 3 5* reviews for Charon's Ferry":

http://www.amazon.co.uk/product-reviews/B00AR2V0GO/ref=dp_top_cm_cr_acr_txt?ie=UTF8&showViewpoints=1