Shattered Peace.

Last week was unusually quiet. Yes I was fretting over the funding for my course but eventually we sorted that out. Yet the phone failed to ring, there were only a handful of e mails requesting meetings and I was left rather bewildered. No one really uses the words quiet or peaceful at work. It only takes 1 phone call.

That call came at 10.20 am on Friday. I knew it would come sooner or later. As I responded I knew I was setting in place a chain of events that would inevitably lead to a Mental Health Act assessment. It was a day when I made tough decisions. 7 hours later a young man was safe and fortunately no one was hurt. I hate making those decision but sometimes they are necessary for the good of all. Those are tough days for me.

The weekend nearly complete I am feeling okay about it all. I had my roast pork, the proofs of the cover for "Charon's Ferry" is with me and looking good. Britten is the backdrop to my quiet Sunday. Tomorrow it is once more unto the breach until the next storm breaks. We are up and running.

I will approve the book for publication tomorrow. With luck it should be out in a fortnight or so. Then a celebration I think.

I Heard a Voice.

Autobiography or Memoir?

Way back in 2002 when I started writing "A Pillar of Impotence" I was working in my first post university job at a Further Education College. It was a job that I was over qualified for but it was the only one I could get. All my immediate colleagues were most excited by the prospect of my book. But one day my friend Jill told me that she had mentioned it another colleague who disdainfully dismissed it as "he is too young to write an autobiography". True perhaps but I was never arrogant enough to claim I was writing an autobiography.

In more recent years with the book published and many fine comments I have increasingly come across such books classified as memoirs. Is it that? It certainly recalls events and memories of the past. But the past can still live in the present. On Saturday night I was talking to a friend who is currently reading it. He is hooked but disturbed for I am telling his life. When he started it he looked through the would be eyes of a counsellor to be. Or not to be as he gave up. Now he sees more that it is a book on life gone wrong.

Today I looked up Rick Stein's book "Under a mackerel Sky". That too is described as a memoir. He will certainly sell many more books than me. He is known, he is famous. Can I compare to such a public figure? Not really as I will never be known. But I like the idea of a memoir. My memoirs have not finished yet. If all goes to plan I will have the covers of "Charon's Ferry" this week. Once approved it is a matter of a few weeks. I will drink to that!

I Heard a Voice.

A Pause for Reflection.

Barring the lake and occasional visiting heron next to my office there are few redeeming features to the town in which I work. The real exception though is the original settlement which before the war it was but a village next to a historically significant stately home. That is significant as history tells us that that was where Elizabeth I heard to news of the death of her half sister Mary I and acceded to the throne. I like the old town, is has great feel and some real pubs. Thus it was that after shopping today I spent an hour or so in Horse and Groom drinking Black Sheep ale and reflecting on the last few days. And believe me I needed time to reflect.

The days this week have led me to feel anxiety, rage, despair, and today some mental peace. It has not been easy and the students don't get until this weekend. Rare is the day I make solid plans but those I have made for coming year have been coming apart at the seams. Maybe it my fault, maybe it is a system flaw, maybe it is too complicated. But on this Saturday afternoon I find myself uncertain if I will be able to do my MSc, fearing the onslaught on Monday, and trying to take cheer from the good that did happen on Friday.

Focussing on Friday an extraordinary thing happened and I had sage words from a wise man. Try to think of a good name for a theatre group comprised of people living with mental illness. Can it get any better than "May Contain Nuts"? Yes I met such a theatre company on Friday lunchtime. Not seen them perform but I do hope I can. Sometimes the only way to live with mental illness is to stigmatize oneself. They were great.

Furthermore as they read the notes from the previous meeting 1 asked if it was the same Mark who wrote the book. It was indeed. She raved about it and has also read my blogs for Time to Change. With book sales I always think it is only people humouring me who buy. Yet I had never met this woman and she had come across it. Fame at last?

As for the wise words they came from a man who knows my business inside out. As he put it "you cannot continue to be a one man crisis team forever". He is right and there is a very small chance he can change that. But he not powerful enough. Ultimately a woman I do not know will settle that part of my fate such as it is. But he is right. I have to have change sometime.

The hour in the pub helped and I'm now calm but tired at home making chicken stock and listening to Gilbert and Sullivan. There is lamb, pork, and roast ham on the menu for the next few days. Solace surely will come in my cooking.

I Heard a Voice.

Mid September?

The heat of Seville seems a long time ago now. In fact only 2 weeks have passed since I sweltered in 38 degree heat which seemed to get hotter the later the night went on. Looking out the window early this evening it looks more like November. The rain is pouring down, it is cold, dark, and gloomy. September is often nice in the UK but at the mid point of the month autumn seems to have arrived in all its vigour. Rarely is it this wet now.

With Seville disappearing in my rear view mirror I am back to reality. I didn't go to the university today as I had an induction day for new governors at the Trust. We got an overview of the change that is imminent. It will affect people on both side of the fence. Fence? Yes there is still a gap between them and us. Despite the pressures of changing sides that have been place in past years I still sit firmly on the top of that fence and look both ways. I will forever be a man with a history of mental illness. That cannot change. But I'm now also a provider of services. Others decide if I'm any good at it but I will never change my position as one of us and one of them. My history is just too long.

Now I have seen the vision and motivation behind change we will see what happens. My 3 year post will cover some of the most critical years in recent memory in mental health. At the end I must decide if I want to stand for re-election. Then it is down to the electorate.

We all talk of recovery but that means different things to different people. I got lucky-in the end-by getting sufficiently well to rebuild my life. Can everyone do that? That of course is the great rhetorical question. Narrow models will cause problems and being realistic is essential. Some on the other hand do not want change. Well change is coming like it or not. I cannot stop that. Let us hope it is change for the better.

I Heard a Voice.

A New Face.

I met someone new in the Hedgehog last night. She grew up with my friend Gary and they regard each others as cousins although they are not related. So what you might say? Well she works for Waterstones book shop and has offered to help me with my book sales. What she can or will do I don't know but every little helps.

Today I have felt very tired. Slept properly for the first time since I got back from Spain. It has not been a good holiday for sleep just as happened last year. I shopped and then had a quiet afternoon listening to music and reading. The only thing I have achieved is to put together a Sri Lankan beef curry which is slowly cooking away on the hob. Even ground my own curry powder for it. I'm using the new Indian dried chillies I bought. I have no idea how hot they are so been a little cautious. Let's hope all goes well.

So then on to my final day before the storm. A usual Sunday I think, roast chicken, the Sunday Times, some opera and then an evening of American football. Then it is back to reality. Time always goes so fast when I'm not working. Until next time.

I Heard a Voice.

Not Very Brave!

My trip to market yesterday was a lot fun. And I managed to avoid spending a fortune. Sadly Amber couldn't make it and no word from Beka but Dory and I fought on alone. I returned laden with pigeon, chorizo, sherry vinegar, roasted pimenton, good bacon, Sri Lankan cinnamon and some dried Indian chillies. Yet that was not the most interesting of the discoveries I made. That honour is jointly held by trying Masala Chai for the first time-it was wonderful-and finding the feared ghost chilli. I was not brave enough to buy it but it did look tempting. All in all a great day.

Now it is dull and damp back in Hertfordshire. So it is an afternoon in as I prepare for Monday. What will be in store for me? Nothing too drastic I hope. Last year I ended up having to go the hospital for a student psych assessment on day 1 of induction week! Not a good start. Let us pray for a less hectic beginning given the extras of the MSc and the Trust work. I feel at present I have energy to make it work. Whether that is the case deep in winter when the world is at its darkest and wettest in another idea. I cannot predict the future. But I do feel better than than last year; this time then I was at my lowest ebb for some time. Now I feel good; long may it last.

I Heard a Voice.

Off to Market.

Today all has been quiet. I'm taking it fairly easy before next week. I shopped, ate, pottered, listened to Mozart and continued to plough my way through my governor reading. I have also been stressing after yet another failed attempt to do things on line. If it can go wrong it will with me. Instead of an ungraded browser that I wanted that failed and I ended up downloading a search engine I didn't want which has slowed down my PC even more. I think I will have to phone my friendly IT man at the university. But that can wait.

Tomorrow I'm off to market. Yes my favourite Borough Market trip. I will travel down with the incomparable Dory to meet my new friend Amber and with luck Beka too. What delights await us I don't know. But we are very close to the mushroom season, I need chorizo and good sherry vinegar; the rest will be a bonus. I will be laden ready for the cooler climes of autumn. Yes after what has been out best summer since 2006 autumn has definitely arrived here in the UK.

My mood is holding, around +1 I suppose. Not where I want it but it will do. How much it is challenged in the coming weeks is up for debate. I feel more prepared than last year. I have a little plan which might come to fruition-we shall see.

So here is to market, good produce and a few more days off work.

I Heard a Voice.

Hunting Ghosts.

A shade over 48 hours have passed since I landed back in England. We made it through Spain in 1 piece and got back safely. Dad never did find his lost medication. For me it was break away from it all. Particularly from the nightmares. But guess what? As soon as I got back they returned. Oh for a life without dreaming.

I dreamt very little in Spain but 1 did come that I was expecting. Rare is the day that I dream of the girl I call Rachel in my books. She has been mentioned on here before. I had a very specific reason for going to Granada in particular and that was that it was in that city in 1990 that I met Rachel. It was 4 months before the earthquake that engulfed my life. An earthquake instigated by Rachel. Late on in "Charon's Ferry" I state that I would return to Granada 1 day and now it is gone.

I have spent 23 years hunting my ghosts. I can never really catch them but with each challenge I take the impact of my past diminishes. Many people talk of time healing. I don't think it heals but it does change us. What was important back then is less now. What seemed irrelevant then may be really relevant. Time marches on for all of us and I have now seen the birthplace of my madness.

Without that madness there would be no job, no blog, and no books. Perhaps my life would have been more dull had the path been different. It was the actions of others that propelled me down this route. Eventually I found a way through and my students will say they are grateful for that.

In a week I will be back in the melee. Already the diary is filling up but I will worry about that then. For now I will cook, read, watch, and sleep. This afternoon's attempted masterpiece is Dong Po pork. Think I have messed it up already but there we go, sometimes it does go wrong.

I Heard a Voice.

Prohibido Fumar!

"A tiger? In Africa?" "The Meaning of Life is not my favourite Monty Python film but it does contain that 1 immortal line. We would indeed be shocked to come across a tiger in Africa. Frightened too probably. But coming across the unexpected is part of life. Now on my 7th trip to Spain I have seen it all-smoking is banned! I had heard this but had been told that everyone ignored the ban. Alas not. I cannot smoke anywhere but in the street.

I'm writing from Granada. It is warm and pleasant. We are on the last day of what has been a marvellous holiday. The difference between now and when I first visited is my fear of heights. And by God was I terrified driving through the mountains to get to Ronda and again today at the Alhambra. But it has been worth it; we have had a lot of fun.

The recession has hit them hard here and it is reflected in the prices; most things have at least doubled in price since I last visited in 2006. Almost out of money but we head home tomorrow.

In my next post I will write about the emotional reasons for coming here. That is so important here in Granada. For last time I was here it was but a few months before my illness struck. In fact it had its roots here. But you will have to wait for that blog.

So for now adios-I will blog again from Hertfordshire tomorrow.

I Heard a Voice.