Morocco Comes to Hertfordshire.

The venture into the food of North Africa was a resounding success. The Arabs are so good at making simple salads and using the finest spices to flavour simple meats. For someone who has never been to North Africa I feel I should go. Yet maybe that world is fast disappearing with all the turmoil that is going on in the Arab countries. Will the world ever right itself? Hard to tell but then was the world ever really right?

Last night after my food preparation I found myself thinking and not in a good way. I have always believed that we only ever understand our lives when we look back a few years. I think I'm right but I had a horrible thought last night that my life was passing me by. The history is full of failing to seize the moment which I later regret.

Funny thing is I have not had any of those thoughts since I gave up smoking weed 6 years ago. I was never really prolific smoker but it helped when I was at my lowest ebb in 1994 when I was written off as untreatable. Then after a few years I saw myself as a caricature, an obscene joke of a failure. That was the drug talking. But I still wrestle with the concept of perfection and failure and vascillate between complete egotistical self confidence and utter contempt for myself. I didn't like those thoughts last night.

They will pass as the weekend comes. I will make Pimm's when I get home then who knows what. Tomorrow is going to be a good day.

I Heard a Voice.

Insects Dancing On The Water.

Some years ago I read a very good book entitled "The Devil That Danced on the Water". It was a daughter's memoir of the war torn country of Sierra Leone. How did she get published? She is the daughter of a former president.

Today as I sat by the lake at my office my mind went back to that book. I did not see devils but small insects darting over the surface. Despite the cold and gloom summer is coming. I like it by the lake, it is my escape. It was yet another day. The quiet periods bore me but we have to take the rough and the smooth in life.

When I got home I set about cooking and preparing a feast. A colleague has her final day of this academic year tomorrow and they asked me to cater. Moroccan kebabs are searing away on my griddle pan as I type. The Palestinian kebabs flavoured with sumac and lime are cooling. There is a tomato and feta salad awaiting its dressing of olive oil and coriander, a carrot salad with orange and mint to be added, a cauliflower and olive salad in fine spices, and finally a cabbage, walnut and sultana salad. All will be dressed in the morning. So I will be useful tomorrow.

Then another weekend. It will be a very unusual weekend as for the first time I will be going out with people from work socially. Yes it has only taken 6 years! There was one lone exception, a wedding in my first year. Yet given who was coming they couldn't not invite me.

So until I'm back from a Soho marathon on Saturday I bid you all farewell.

I Heard a Voice.

Flaming June Is 3 days Away!

I have been cold all day. Having survived that annual navel gazing and self congratulatory bullshit that is the annual away day I had to be on time this morning. I'm never at my best at 9 am. In fact I rarely come alive until about 11 am. But today was different. I dressed more tidily, set off and got in early. Awaiting was another date with a professional photographer. I'm not an easy person to photograph. And no I didn't commission some shots for my own vanity and ego. I was persuaded to do it for the Vice-Chancellor's Awards. The photographer remembered me. Funny how I go 4 years not noticed that 2 years in a row getting noticed. It is most un-nerving walking down corridors with huge images of myself beaming down on me.

We were finished by 9.30 am. The legacy was being freezing all day. When I got home I had to sit in front of a heater for a few minutes just to unfreeze me feet. It is May. Flaming is coming on Saturday. Why is it so fucking cold? That said I suppose it beats the monsoon of last spring.

I feel nothing today, just a day of nothing. I will bake some chicken thighs and roast some potatoes later. Can't think of anything else to do today. Then I suppose I will watch the TV-another dull day of getting older. I do wish my mood would lift above 0. It has been a while.

I Heard a Voice.

A Visitors Weekend.

All has now gone quiet in blogland after the aberration that was this week. Still healthy numbers though. So what of my life since my last post? It is another week down. It is a bank holiday weekend. And I have had visitors.

My old friend Marie came up from Kent on Friday. She hasn't visited since November, the vaguaries of life and money have ensured that delay. That one I was expecting. What I didn't expect was the return of my wandering Malaysian friend Joey. You may recall she went home in June. I didn't expect to see her again except maybe for a visit. Yet she is backed armed with a new visa, somewhere to stay and as of last night she is back in her old job. Strange thing is she has given up drinking. It is most odd to see her drinking mineral water rather than her favoured red wine.

Joey is now back in London before she takes up her old job. Another visitor is due at 2 pm, Richard my neighbour bringing a crisp and dry white wine. I'm actually cooking a gammon joint-smells wonderful-with which I would normally drink red. But much as Marie likes red wine it does not like her. So white it is.

Tomorrow I will rest then I have an away day at work. I'm dreading that as I suspect it will feel like all day group therapy. If I needed therapy I would go and pay for it myself. In the meantime it is back a quiet Sunday of cricket, ham and maybe some Pimm's later on.

I Heard a Voice.

Weirdness in Blog Land.

10 minutes ago I intended to write a blog called "No Sex Please We are British". Odd I suppose for a blog that has never as far as I can recall mentioned sex. This is an old saying about the British and their alleged prudishness. The French and Italians have laughed at us British for years.

So why would I write a post on that subject? More to the point, why did I change my mind? Well something very odd has happened in the last 24 hours. You may recall I wrote a post yesterday about being ill. Yes I did not feel at all well the last 2 days. The evidence being that I just opened my first beer since Sunday about an hour ago. Well that post has provoked an enormous surge in viewers. When I looked at the stats there had been 579 views in the last 24 hours. Almost all of them form the USA.

On here I can tell where views are coming from and referring sites. I looked into one of those sites and found it was some sort of porn dating site. How very odd given the content of my blog. Just now I investigated further by looking at the url addresses. Nearly all of them them the porn ones and all diverted to an American fat fighting club set up by a so called Doctor.

So I'm afraid all you chums in the USA, there are no porn, no fat fighting tips, and nothing really that you are looking for. Having said that given that such a large % of the population of the USA are on psychiatric medication maybe this is the site for you.

Talking of which DSM V came out today. Now almost all human behaviours, feelings, and characteristics will be classed as mental disorders. Bollocks but I bet the drug companies make a lot of money out of it!

Until next time.

I Heard a Voice.

Not Hungry Today

Looking out the window I see a dull unassuming day here in Hertfordshire. No it isn't my office window which is main has the blinds half closed. The view I have is of the carpark out the back of my flat. It feels cold although I have no idea what it is like really to go outside; not been there. I'm not sure if it cold or the shivers of the mystery ailment that has felled me for the last couple of days.

Yesterday was a day of churning stomach and feeling nauseous. It was accompanied by minor aches and shivers. Feeling pretty shitty I left work in the late morning and went to bed. Not much sleep so I gave up and just stared at the TV. I barely ate yesterday. It was followed by a restless night and many bad dreams. The one that woke me this morning was of sewers of blood-not good.

When I did wake up my stomach was more settled but I had no hunger. It is now lunch time and I have no desire to eat. Instead though the aching and shivering has increased and is now accompanied by a sore throat and lots of gutteral coughing. What is going on? I really hope passes soon. I've already given up on day time TV and turned instead to my beloved Mozart. Idomeneo is on the menu today. I've also made a start on Jerome K Jerome's "Three Men in a Boat". It is very good but in a strange way it has made me realise quite how much the spoken English has changed even in my life time. Words we heard as children are the same the ones Jerome wrote in the late 19th century. Most of those words have gone now. Perhaps it was more gentle time in the days of my childhood.

Mentally I feel uneasily empty. This is in sharp contrast to my thoughts 24 hours ago; my mind was on fire. But no more.

If I can muster up the energy this afternoon I will fill in the nomination papers to become a governor of HPFT my local mental health Trust. I wonder if I have chance? I hope whatever happens I have the skills they need. I'm certain of my experience but is that enough? Time will tell.

I Heard a Voice.

Unexpected Mozart.

This morning I awoke at 10.30 after yet another dream. The evidence in my ash tray suggests it was a bad night for dreams-each time I awake I smoke. One I rememeber being bad but have no idea of the content. But it was the last one that mattered. For it was then, for the first time in a long time that Rachel came to me in a dream. Yet it was not the face of her as a young woman as indeed she was the last time I saw her. Instead it was the imagined image of an older woman. I recall very vaguely from my days teaching myself A level Philosophy that no one in the history of the world has ever created a new image. All mythical beasts from ancient mythology are hybrids of beasts that were known. Yet I created and indentified an image I have never seen. Who knows what she looks like now? I don't really care as I doubt I will ever see her again.

So why did I have such a dream? It also included King's for it was in that mighty building that I know so well that I saw her in that dream. Well when I went for drinks with the ex choir people it was in the very same pub where I last saw the young Rachel. It was in the early summer of 1995 when she would have been coming up for 23. It was dream I would rather not have had. But at least it was in my sleep. I hope I have banished forever the imagery of my psychosis. She didn't come often apart from with her voice but when she did come it was bad.

As such it was a diffcult start to another Sunday. Yet I'm buoyed by England's mighty demolition of New Zealand at Lord's. Shame in a manner of speaking as it was such an evenly fought test. But nice guys aren't winners in sport-you go out to crush and that was what happened.

Now I face an unexpected free afternoon. Thus in complete contradiction to my post yesterday there will be Mozart this afternoon. I fancied some fun so the "Magic Flute" fills the airwaves. Later I turn my attention to my chicken. I think I will stuff it with lemon and thyme. I have friend coming with wine-hope he chooses something good. All too soon I will retire again to bed. Then tomorrow, I'm not looking forward to that one.

I Heard a Voice.

Voice of a Somebody.

Some time ago, I'm not sure when, a young woman called Katharine posted a blog on the Time to Change website about living with depression. Whilst I have been unable to locate the original I have no doubt it was just as moving and inspirational as all the other Time to Change blogs. I have blogged for them a couple of times and like everyone else I was anonymised with just my first name. So why do I comment on Katharine's blog? Well this week on national TV a very moving interview with Katharine talking about depression was aired and provoked lavish praise. So why did Katharine achieve more than the rest of us ever could? Well she is a somebody. She is the daughter of the Archbishop of Canterbury. And that alone will have greater impact than the combined efforts of all the other guest bloggers.

On Wednesday Katharine Welby, complete with her full name, posted a 2nd blog:

http://www.time-to-change.org.uk/blog/katherine-welby-my-experiences-of-talking-about-depression

I found it moving and brave and gives an essence of the extra pressure she now faces in the public eye that the unknowns like me do not. Good luck to her. I guess we all crave publicity but in the unlikely event I ever get any for my books I fear that scrutiny.

Talking of scrutiny, my last post provoked an immediate and unusually large response. Althuogh as usual no comments were made it was the highest daily number of hits I have ever had and also it was the most read post of all time. Funny what happens when I am controversial. I did go to my drinks party, in the main they are in the dark about the storm that one day will inevitably engulf that choir for those times.

After a long tiring week I have been resting, watching cricket, and cooking. I did a most splendid Thai belly pork curry that sadly was completely ruined by oversalting the rice. Why do I make such stupid errors? Tomorrow it is chicken. No Mozart, just day 4 of the test from Lord's, what a match it has been so far!

I Heard a Voice.

Pandora's Box.

When I was small child I had a beautiful book about Greek Myths. It had wonderful illustrations and I liked to have the stories read to me at night-I could not read until I was 8. My paternal grandmother heartily disapproved of it-little boys should only hear nice stories. Yet after my teddybear that book was my most prized possession. I'm sure it is still at dad's house somewhere. One of the sotries was of "Pandora's Box". I forget the details but the essence was never open the box as you don't know what will be released. Pandora ignored the gods, opened it and all the evils of the world were released.

Last week as I squinted at Facebook on the small screen of my mobile there was a message about a musician called Marcel Gazelle. I had never heard of him; indeed he died the year I was born. But the story in the Indpendent that featured was of a darker side to him, his teaching and his pupils. Is the world finally catching up with the dark world of world class music back in the 60s, 70,s and 80's? I could not find the original story when I googled last night but I did find a follow up which is on the link below:

http://www.independent.co.uk/news/uk/crime/fresh-abuse-claims-hit-top-music-school-8612402.html

The names of the schools are all too familiar. If you look on the link you will find another link to an online petition from a former pupil at Chetham's- they were in news recently too for the same reason. The part I objected to was the suggestion that there are only 5 elite music school in the UK. What of the choir schools? I know what went on in at least 3 of them my own included (although that was more about violence).

Who knows where this will go but I sense Pandora's Box is opening. Will the net be cast that wide? I certainly have no intention of calling anyone but I did think of signing the petition. There will be more men dead and alive whose names will come to light, I just don't know who they are.

I do not regret my past. It is certainly true that past contributed enormously to my breakdown and my psychosis. But I will forever be part of highly elite group that did something that few others ever got the opportunity to do. Tomorrow I have an invitation to London for drinks with some of them. I'll let you know if I go in my next post.

I Heard a Voice.

Where Has This Decade Gone!

The best part of a decade has gone by since I last went to the cinema. Well I think it is a decade. I'm pretty certain that the last film I saw was "Return of the King" which I think came out in 2003. You can deduce from that that I'm not an ardent film viewer. I have a small select collection of DVDs numbering around 30. A couple of weeks ago I added to said collection with a copies of "The Hobbit" and "Silver Linings Playbook". Last night I watched the latter.

In the main I find Hollywood films tedious but was  drawn to it because of the bipolar character. And I was not disappointed. I know nothing of dancing-in fact I detest it-nor of romance but I do know about crazies. And by God did they get that right. They spoke our language, the one we share with each other and no one else. Those mad conversations about hospital and medication that we sometimes use to alarm others or to just hide our shame. Actually I'm no longer ashamed of my madness but there are those out there who will never get it.

Yet the film alarmed me somewhat in bringing together crazies in relationships. I've blogged about that before. Crazies are great but I would not want to get involved with one again. More to the point would anyone risk getting involved with me and all the selfish madness that entails? Probably not so I remain a paragon of singledom. I'm always struck by the irony of how much relationship advice I give at work but remain unencumbered by such things away from there. What would I know?

Away from the crazies it is another quiet Sunday afternoon. I have some belly pork slow roasting on the bed of carrots and celery with rosemary and thyme. I have had my fix of Puccini, "Turandot" today. And now I have moved onto Handel's "Saul". I was there for this recording but did not sing. The boredom of recording sessions is not something I miss.

So until next week I bid you all a happy Sunday whatever you are doing.

Coming in From the Cold.

Considering it is May it is really rather cold and dull out there. Long gone is the glorious sunshine of yesterday which prompted me to make Pimm's when I got back. What is going on? Well at least it isn't pouring down. I have just returned from my usual trip to town on Saturday. This morning I went much earlier than normal. Got my hair cut without having to wait for ages. I lunched with Yan at the Fu Hao-the hot and sour soup was perfect to fight off the cold. The Tsing Tao went down well too. I wandered about then did some shopping. My plan was to roast a duck but they didn't have any. So it is back to my old staple of slow roast belly pork for tomorrow. I'm actually cutting back on fatty cuts but I'm sure one every now and again rather than every week will help.

Back at my flat I have Puccini on and I'm wondering what to do next; perhaps some reading. Reflecting on this week-yes another week closer to Christmas-I was told or heard 2 really odd things. Apparently I don't know anything about mental health that doesn't pertain to students. I'm also too logical. What planet do these people live on? If they have read "A Pillar of Impotence" they clearly didn't get it. Some say it is the most moving book they have ever read. By God does it provoke emotion-tissues seem to need to be nearby. I leave you dear reader with a question, why do counsellors seem to think they have a monopoly on emotion? Yes those people who are not allowed to display emotion or make anything real! My skill such as it is is to make life real. Not spout Freudian bollocks on the rare occasions I speak. I speak rather lot when I work. And pretty much the rest of the time.

So I will try to forget about last week and focus on resting and culture. Maybe I'll be back tomorrow, maybe not.

I Heard a Voice.

A Year On.

We never really got the promised rain today. A year ago the UK was deluged by weeks of rain thus ending the shortest drought in history. Was I expecting a return to that? Not sure but all we got was a fine misty rain as I drove in this morning. They say tomorrow the glorious days will end with a return to autumn. We shall see.

Just as I thought it was slowing down the last 2 days have been carnage and confusion. I've never known it like this in May. The phone did not stop ringing, I had to clear up the debris of last night's crisis-I didn't get home until 7.30-, and I had too many people asking me to dig them out of the shit after they had done no work. I have no idea why some people come to me. They really ought to see others. But it seems I have something of reputation for good advice so they keep coming. What really interests me is mentally ill people yet they still come. I have seen more this year than ever before. The big question is have I been successful?

A nice thing did happen yesterday. 2 letters arrived from the Vice-Chancellor's Office. Believe it or not he knows who I am despite my insignificance. I was expecting 1 as I knew that have once again been nominated for the award I failed to win last year. I thought the 2nd must be clerical error but it was not. I have also been nominated by staff for another award. How odd is that? I expect they will take last year into account so I'm not even expecting to be shortlisted. Yet I fail to fathom the vaguaries of the great and good. I will keep you all posted.

Having dined on leftover curry I settled down with Handel and made a Shpeherd's Pie. This is one with a difference as it has an Indian twist. The leftover Moghul lamb got blitzed and made into said pie. Mum would be proud of my thrift. It will cool tonight then into a hot oven tomorrow but it still won't be as good as hers. I don't like cooking in agas but having done it at dad's they are excellent for Shepherd's Pie.

2 days to go then a rest; I feel I need it despite the short week. Then we hurtle ever onward towards turning 44 in August. Where did all that time go?

I Heard a Voice.

The English, the English, the English are Best!

Way back before the war when the Raj was still in its pomp 2 public school boys, Flanders and Swann at Westminster School wrote a Great Patriotic song. It started with the line "the English, the English, the English are best, I wouldn't give tuppence for all of the rest". Oh how the world has changed. The empire is no more. A Commonwealth of sorts exists and the age old right of self determination exists in at least some parts of the world.

But there are surviving features of the great England that was. I spoke yesterday of country churches. Today it is those wonderful country pubs dotted around those villages that are swamped on a Bank Holiday Monday. Left over from the Raj there is Darjeeling tea and curry. We have a love affair with curry.

Today I indulged in all 3 of those past times. Couple of pints in a country pub, Darjeeling tea back at my flat and Moghul style lamb is slow roasting in my oven. I've never cooked it before. It is marinaded in yoghurt, onions, ginger, garlis, chilli, cumin, coriander and turmaric. It smells divine and I can't wait. I'm never sure what to drink with curry but today it is wine. My friend Richard will bring some later.

So here's to holidays. Normally I'm bored but not this time. May we delay tomorrow for a few short hours. Until then.

I Heard a Voice.

A Deviation From the Norm.

If you are a regular reader of my blog you will know well what I do on Sundays. Actually all my regulars seem to have disappeared the last couple of weeks. It looked earlier last month as if I would break my veiwing record for the 2nd month in a row but a sharp fall off stopped that from happening. The norm for my Sundays is Mozart and roasting some fine meat in the true English style. Well today neither happened. I went out for lunch-I can't remember the last time I did that whilst at home in Hertfordshire-and there has not been a shred of Mozart.

In its stead there has been a great deal of religious music as befits the Sundays my dad and sister undertake. I do not go to church except for funerals, weddings, and rare singing appearances. I do quite like looking round them-church spotting as we used to refer to my old school friend Professor Steve's past time-particularly the medieval ones that litter the quaint English village countryside.

My tastes instead turned firstly to Mendelssohn, then Haydn's Creation and finally now to the Tudor music of Orlando Gibbons. Gibbons like me was a King's chorister. It was pretty brutal and ruthless back in the late 70s and early 80s so I hate to think what it was like in his day. He of course is remembered 500 years later. Whilst King's will remain I will not in 500 years. The fate of almost all of us.

Anyway, the music has been sublime. When I left school and went on trips after I was forced for a couple of years to sing alto; I was a terrible alto. My friend Tina is a rather accomplised alto. She tells me singing alto in the Creation is very boring. In sharp contrast Gibbons is an altos dream. Good luck to them and may there be a revival.

There is still time left on this holiday weekend. I have been somewhat domesticated and really sorted my flat out. In my slightly overzealous if lacking attention to detail way I almost managed to throw away my car insurance and MOT certificates. That would have been a nightmare come November. But I saved them.

One more day to go, an afternoon of a country pub, an evening of Moghul style roast lamb then I hope a better night's sleep than the last 2-yes the dreams have returned. Then and only then do I go back to the world of the mad. That is always assuming I have no relapse in between. I'm not expecting that and in the main feel reasonably okay. I'll drink to that!!!

I Heard a Voice.

Beethoven on Holiday.

Is there anything more glorious than Beethoven's Kreutzer sonata blasting out from the car stereo on a warm Friday afternoon? It was a most triumphant day and I felt good. Uplifted by the dancing violin and the extraordinary accompaniment I prepared for a holiday weekend. Then something odd happened. A mood nosedive and an overwhelming sense of loneliness last night. I was tired too. The last week or so I have felt more refreshed than at any time since Chritsmas. Fortunately it was an abberation.

Yes it is a bank holiday weekend. I have worked hard today, washing, hoovering, sweeping, and mopping the kitchen and bathroom floors. Just the bathroom to do tomorrow plus the dreaded desk clearing then I'm free until Tuesday. I will devote the days to cooking. That said I'm going out for roast beef tomorrow at the Hedgehog. The Hedgehog, the pub they all said don't go into when I moved to Hertfordhire in 2007. They were all wrong, now it is my second home. They don't do food often but Josephine is a wonderful cook so it should be fun. Actually she is fearful of cooking for me, she always thinks she cannot match mine. Well in reality she is better than me.

Before then I will do something with prawns-Thai or Vietnamese I think. Then on Monday I will do an Indian shoulder of lamb slow roasted for several hours. I had curry yesterday too-a fine chicken affort although it lacked colour as they had run out of coriander at the shop.

Perhaps on Monday I will go out into the country for a beer. Then it is back to reality. I wonder what next week will bring. Bye for now.

I Heard a Voice.