Icy Streets.

An icy sheen of frost has descended for the last 3 days. It is treacherous out there and bitterly cold. That said the sun is shining, I still have a few days off and much to my surprise my flat remains warm. Still no luck on the replacement part for the boiler, having got an answer phone 9 times I tried a different number and finally got to speak to a real person. Sadly all she could do was promise to send an e mail to the parts department. So the wait goes on.

It is New Year's Eve. A time to celebrate and mourn. A year ago today my friend Jeff lost his battle with cancer. Facebook is covered in references to him and he will remain in all our thoughts as we party in The Hedgehog tonight.

Mourning aside I am feeling more relaxed. My 1000 word reflective piece is written. Whether it is any good or not is another matter. I really had no idea what was expected of me. A friendly academic has offered to look at it but that fills me with dread. Do I send it to her or not? I feel just like chancing my arm and hoping for the best. There is still more than 2 weeks before hand in day. Time I suppose to adjust if necessary. I just don't want to do it.

So it leaves me wishing you all a very Happy New Year. My final post of 2014. See you all in 2015.

Back Home, No Answer and Rendang.

Well the snow held off and I made it back to Hertfordshire after a slightly truncated journey on 3 motorways punctuated by various hold ups. Having done what I thought was the hard part I spent the much of the rest of the day trying to get the boiler working long enough to heat the flat. It works although somewhat precariously limping onwards.

So as you can imagine it was good to find a letter from the heating company to say my replacement part was available. What I didn't expect today was that not 1 of my 6 calls actually made it through to a person on the other end. Goodness knows when it will now get fixed. I have another week off and very much hope it is not in the cold.

Putting off my academic work until tomorrow I thought I would check out the sales. Nothing of interest although that is clearly good for my bank balance after Christmas. Bit dull though.

To make up for a day distinctly lacking in success I pounded a Rendang curry paste and have it all cooking away with some good beef as I write. There are 7 Thai chillies in it so hoping for some heat.

Tomorrow is tomorrow, have to do battle with learning theories. But once that 1000 words is done I can rest for a few months. Not thinking about my next project just yet. More in the week.

I Heard a Voice.

Bitter Cold.

Dark threatening clouds are now masking the pale winter sun that had lit up this bitterly cold day. In my part of Kent we missed the snow thank goodness. But it is bitterly cold and an icy wind blows.

So Christmas is done and dusted. We had a magical day despite a couple of catering hiccups. The ham was a triumph, Mike's roast potatoes were a dream and the wine kept flowing. Strangely enough I felt utterly sober by the end of the night. Then again after the mighty Boxing Day run. Very odd.

Tomorrow I drive home hoping not to have to contend with snow. It looks doable at the moment. Very much hoping the heating is still working when I get back-awaiting a replacement part at the moment. A day of rest before the final MSc furlong on Tuesday. Should only take 2-3 hours to run off the required 1000 words. After that relaxing week before having to settle into my new office and back to the mayhem. See you soon.

I Heard a Voice.

PS The belly pork in the oven smells extremely good-nice slow cook seasoned with thyme.

Christmas Greetings.

Happy Christmas everyone. Quick sneak on here before we go to Beka's-we may be some time. Have a wonderful day all you out there in blogland and I will return in a couple of days.

I Heard a Voice.

Hope is Born.

Seasons greetings on Christmas Eve. Yes we are nearly there. As I write there have been precisely 22,000 hits on my blog since I started in the autumn of 2010. Where everyone has gone I have no idea, hits are really down this month. But never mind.

You find me pretty much prepared for the big day. Presents all wrapped and delivered, ham is poached in cider and going up to Beka's this afternoon. Dad is just about keeping up although he does find it all quite stressful. I have bought some nice wine and some cheese-the French are bringing the cheese so likely to be a little too strong and soft for me. So Cornish Yarg will suffice for me.

If anyone out there is actually reading you will note it has been a while since I was on here. No excuse, just didn't feel like it. I drove down on Sunday after going to the most amazing musical event the previous evening. Hope Russell Winter is only 15 years old yet has an extraordinary voice with power, control and delicacy. What a performance. A star was truly born that day. Her mum may well become my new manager. Hope is all over Youtube and her EP is downloadable from all the usual outlets-bit technically demanding for me so I have a CD.

And so to the end. I don't think I will be back on until the very early hours of Boxing Day morning. Merry Christmas to you all and have a wonderful and peaceful New Year.

I Heard a Voice.

Waving Goodbye to the Heron.

Pale winter sunlight is glistening on the surface of the lake. Little stirs on this day. This day is the day I say goodbye to that place of tranquility. Fearing I would not see the heron before I left I went for a wander earlier. And there he was, grey heron accompanied by silver swan. A fond farewell.

My office is packed and bare. I'm tying up loose ends and trying to work out what to do with the large picture of me that came in my direction following the award that wasn't in 2012. That seems a long time ago now. Recovering from another relapse I muse on how fragile my mental health can be at times. And I'm the one who got out. Each day I must be on my guard.

At 2.30 pm I will go home. Tonight we have a retirement dinner in London. When I get back it will be to something new. Will it get easier? I doubt it. Will I look for other jobs? Probably. But for now a holiday beckons. My MSc assignment is complete along with my references. Just the 1000 word reflective piece to go when I return from Kent. Then I will have done it.

I may be in Kent next time I'm on here; off to dad's on Sunday. Take care out there in the pale winter sun. See you all soon.

I Heard a Voice.

The Day Mum Waited For.

Mum would have been delighted. It has been auspicious day. No I'm not back to full health. I haven't had any change in my life. But something mum and I both wanted to happen occurred today. The Church of England finally announced the first female bishop.

I walked away from religion years ago. Mum never did. And she was adamant about the role women could and should play in the church. That was one of the themes of my eulogy 2 1/2 years ago. Sadly mum never got to see her dream. My only sadness-and it is a very small sadness-is that it was not my old Cambridge friend Lucy Winkett who was elected first. Her time will come.

In my little world I continue to battle fatigue but I'm ploughing on. I finished my MSc assignment this afternoon. Needs checking and have to update the bibliography. When I get back from dad's I will write the required 1000 word reflective piece. Then it is done. Hand in date is mid January.

After that who knows? Another book perhaps? Maybe, but first a rest. See you soon.

I Heard a Voice.

Not Much Went Well.

My return to work did not exactly go according to plan. It is all very well saying do a phased return but if meetings are spread that can't be done. We have electronic systems none of which wanted to work today. By my reckoning I have 3 days of paperwork to catch up on even if I can remember back that far but I only have 4 half days left before Christmas. Stated simply it cannot be done. I achieved nothing today except trying to claim a lot of expenses. Who knows if it will work.

Back at home I found the heating and hot water system had collapsed. It is working again but only precariously. I'll have to call them out yet again. I'm too tired to think or do anything so no chance of completing my assignment.

So it all looks a bit bleak. Will it get better? Probably. Do I need sleep? Definitely. But when will it come. I cannot stay away for ever.

Oh for a mini mania, God that would be good. For now, sleep just sleep. I hope I have better news next time I'm on here.

I Heard a Voice

And Still I Sleep.

It would appear that I'm coming to the end of my enforced absence. If all goes to plan I will be back at the University on Monday for a final week before Christmas. My anxiety appears to have dissipated. My concentration is coming back slowly and my mood is okay. Just okay, no more than that. That has been a strange aspect of my recent malaise, I have not been depressed. Yet still I sleep, and sleep, and sleep. I haven't got up before 11.15 am in a few weeks. For a couple of days the nightmares returned. And after that I felt edgy. But it did not send me headlong downwards. Somehow between now and Monday the fatigue has to go.

Away from it all I have finally managed to make some progress on my MSc assignment. Very hard to write when one's mind is empty. I awarded myself a day off today to watch the Varsity Match from Twickenham. Not had a chance to watch for several years. It was a disaster, a record defeat against Oxford. 5 consecutive defeats in the oldest club match in history or so I'm led to believe. Those not at or of Oxford and Cambridge cannot really understand how important it is to beat the other. I never managed it in my 3 Varsity Bowls. And Oxbridge looks after its own. All these years later Cambridge still looks out for me.

A shepherd's pie is on the menu tonight. I will soon start winding down my kitchen activities for a week Sunday I will be with dad in Kent. I'm mobile again now so have the freedom to drive which I lacked for a week. I need to get writing tomorrow to make more progress but it it goes well maybe I'll get a little venture out into the country too.

I Heard a Voice.

A Pause for Reflection.

A Christmas card arrived today from the eminent Classical scholar Christopher Kelly in Chicago. He was my ancient history tutor at Cambridge and he wildly overestimated my intellect and ability. He used to tell a story that I was the only tutee he taught ever who failed make predicted grades-I failed by 2 bands in Part 1. He flattered me really. The reason I mention him today is that this time last year his card included a delightful remark that my book had like all good books make him think. And that was precisely what I was doing last night.

Finally having my new DVD player up and running I have taken 2 evenings to watch films. I didn't warm to Grand Budapest Hotel that a friend had recommended. That was Saturday's offering. Last night I was far more entertained by The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel. And God did that make me think.

The lesson is really that none of us are too old to change our lives and do pursue our dreams. The very wise Caroline Latham of Buddhist Healing fame once told me that "it is okay to mourn for yourself". Everyone goes through personal traumas and tragedies. It is the essence of being human. Yet society doesn't want us to talk about that and mourn our emotional loses. The advice was repeated in the film.

It also showed that we have to take a gamble to change. Being risk averse keeps us stuck. I spent so much of my life reflecting on what I didn't do or others didn't do that I lost almost a decade to mental illness. I now do what I do because of and despite mental illness.

In the end each of the characters got what they searched for. Even the character Graham who seeks to find love of his life before he dies.

Life should make us think more. Not on what we might have done as we are not judged on that. But more on what we might do to shape and mold our lives and those of others for the better. I am and will always be flawed; as all in the film were. Yet to live life flaws must not impede progress. How we define that progress can be hard. Do any of us understand our lives in the present? Only by looking back can I know who I was. I do not know myself until the fog of self delusion, fraud and flaw have cleared with the passing years.

I Heard a Voice.

A Mixed Sunday.

It has been an odd day, blazing sunshine one minute, hammering rain the next. Having spent almost all of today indoors it hasn't really affected me although it has put me off going on a Sunday afternoon walk.

My intention to attempt a little more study today have been put on hold since I learned West Ham were playing live on TV. So to accompany the Sunday Times I have been gently watching them take a 2-1 lead. If they hang on they will go third in the table-unheard of heights for December.

Time marches on however and I really do need to get going on my studies. A review of notes and plan needs to be complete by tomorrow afternoon. Then I can start writing. I'm still struggling for concentration and fatigue haunts me but the anxiety remains manageable.

My shoulder of lamb is slowly roasting away in the oven and I'm just par boiling the potatoes. I do love the smell of rosemary on a Sunday afternoon heralding the joys of lamb with mint sauce.

There looks like a lull in the vile weather so maybe I will get out. I'll decide at the final whistle. If anyone is still out there reading-numbers way down-many thanks for humouring me. Have a great Sunday.

I Heard a Voice.

Contradictory Information

A few day have passed since I was last on here. My anxiety appears to be abating-a few things have fallen into place which helped. The exhaustion remains stubbornly in place. Why it is not shifting I'm not sure. My medication has been increased for over 2 weeks now. Sleep is coming but no limit to the fatigue. I have another week to try to sort that.

Now that my mind is less fraught I have summoned up enough concentration to actually do something. Yesterday I applied for that job. But there was a contradiction. The Guardian website suggested that the closing date is next Thursday. Yet LinkedIn stated applications had close on 21th November. All very strange and a little annoying. I applied on line anyway via The Guardian. Let's hope for the best.

Today I managed to an hour of study. The is a first in 3 weeks. My PESTLE is now done. Next stop is to review all my notes, look at the plan and then start writing. If my concentration becomes more effective I hope to make some progress this week while at home.

Post study a friend came round to set up my new DVD player. I'm a complete moron when it comes to anything practical so I rely on friends. They usually get a nice dinner in return. In another bizarre twist of contradiction the item is sold without the connecting wire. What on earth is the point of that? So off we went and had to spend another £25 on said wire-a pain. What it does mean though is that tonight I can watch a film for the first time in a few months. A nice change.

And so to food. Without a car I had to make do locally. Tonight a pork steak and tomorrow slow roast shoulder of lamb. Another gentle day I hope.

I Heard a Voice.

Stop That Train I'm Leaving.

After several weeks of chaos, exhaustion, stress and anxiety I was finally ordered to stop by my Doctor. Not having to face the morning has helped already although there is still too much in the way of study and job applications to consider. But not yet.

Tomorrow Dory is taking me out for lunch. I will get up late. Maybe post a blog and generally try to switch off from the world. The Merry Go Round has officially stopped for me until 15th December. Guess it might give me time to think about Christmas.

I Heard a Voice

Advent Gloom.

Winter has certainly come. Cold and gloomy I have no plans to venture far today. Another day away from work, anxiety has really come back today. I also remain dead tired. The plan is to call after midnight to book an appointment to see my GP tomorrow. Barmy isn't it? But that is the way my surgery works. I will get to see someone who knows me though and that is important when MH is the concern.

As I shiver in the cold I listened belatedly to music for Advent. I should have listened on Sunday but forgot. I'm not remembering much at the moment. Head is still all over the place. I really should try to do some study but no chance of that, I can't even read today.

I'm told they're really going through it at the university too. Tough times all round. I certainly can't face that just yet. Each day I have to lay plans to cancel more and more. I don't like letting people down but when I'm ill there is little chance of achieving much.

What would I give for a shift upwards in mood? In truth I don't feel that depressed just extremely anxious and exhausted. But I cannot turn over and die. I must fight on and given time I will recover. I always do.

Hopefully next time on here I will be feeling somewhat better.

A Fond Hello.

Some of you may recall that almost a year ago I was delighted to hear from my old friend Ros. We met in the summer and had a fantastic day rolling back the years.

Fast forward to today and I'm still struggling with my recent downturn in my mental health. I managed to get away to Cambridge for a few days. It was good although I remain dead tired. My mind is stirring again but not in a position just yet to face my normal Monday morning world.

Intent of updating my colleagues I found my inbox clogged with more than 60 e mails. I didn't open much. What I did open was a delightful surprise. For there was another voice from my past.

I left Bernie Rosen's world of arrogance 20 years ago. Today a voice from those days came back in the form of an e mail. Huge shout out hello to Vanessa, so pleased you too found your way in life. It is wonderful to hear such a voice and to know that not all was bad with those long ago. Recovery clearly exists in my life and hers. Bernie got it very wrong with me. Some no doubt he helped but not me. Yet I did find my way. And despite the last couple of weeks I will bounce back and continue on that journey.

Tomorrow brings December. Time ticking by. Things to be done but as yet I can't face doing much. I will stay home tomorrow and take each day as it comes. I will call again for a Doctor appointment but won't be holding my breath. Take care all of you out there.

I Heard a Voice.

A Flicker of Emotion.

Having spent the best part of 3 days alone in my flat I briefly ventured out last night. For just a few minutes talking to my friend Di about what a great Christmas we had last year I felt a flicker of emotion. It was good emotion. Sadly it did not last. This morning it was back to that empty deserted feeling of nothing. Yet that glimpse should be a sign of improvement.

I had no luck getting a Doctor appointment-nothing available to pre-book until Tuesday. The arrangements to get to see GPs set up by the previous government really are shambles for Doctors and patients alike. I do not consider myself an emergency. I may have fallen but I have not slipped inside the gates of hell. But it would be quite nice to get to see someone. I will try again later and see what I can get.

I ventured forth today as well for a little lunch and to shop. Worn out now so just listening to The Marriage of Figaro. Think I might have made a mistake glancing at e mails-the world certainly doesn't stop because I'm ill. It is a day they want me to provide a miracle. Well someone else will have to do that-I'm too tired for miracles.

And so on Thanksgiving Day I give warm support to the many people in the USA who read my blog. I will watch the football later and in the depleted state think of you all. Enjoy the turkey.

I Heard a Voice.

PS Amazingly yesterday's offering was post 500, so many in 4 years.

A View From Nowhere.

During the academic year 1998/99 I taught myself A Level Philosophy. A task I set myself as a pre cursor to my return to Cambridge it was very hard going indeed and I didn't do very well. Remember that that was in the days prior to Risperidone so I was more prone to relapses back then. A set text I had to read was Thomas Nagel's A View From Nowhere. An exceedingly hard book to understand I made a tactical decision not to answer a question on Nagel in the exam.

As I struggled to wake up this morning in my heavily medicated state that phrase seemed so apt. It was so late I didn't make it to work. I'm not in a fit state anyway. The Risperdione has emptied my mind. I have no thought or feeling. Just a lost emptiness. A view from nowhere. Where am I? I have lost a semblance of a compass.

Desolate as that feels I recall from last time that that is part of the recovery process. When I first took Rsiperidone all those years ago it sent me on the most splendid high for months. Now it slows me down, dampens that feeling of being overwhelmed by a tidal wave of chaos, and allows me to get back on an even keel.

I will take that time and will aim to see my Doctor tomorrow. Maybe he signs me off maybe he doesn't. I have arrested the precipitous fall and am hanging on. Let us hope I start climbing soon.

In the meantime despite not being at work I'm making work calls and e mails. The world doesn't stop as I'm ill and having unique job there is no one else to pick it up. The best I can do is brief those I can rely on and ask them to hold the fort until I'm back.

Now an afternoon of The Magic Flute will be my guide. I'm too tired to even read my book.

I Heard a Voice.

Feeling as Mum Did.

It is hard to believe that 2 and a 1/2 years have passed since mum's funeral. I have looked back on the blog many times to that period of our lives. I repeated myself often and talked incessantly on my fear of delivering the eulogy. Apart from some of the older brethren struggling to hear it was a spine tingling performance, maybe amongst the best public talks I have ever given.

As I sit in my flat fighting off overwhelming anxiety I am constantly reminded of mum's desperate battle against crippling anxiety. Life has all become too much for me in recent weeks. When I awoke to try to get up for work about 7.30 this morning I quite literally could not get out of bed. Some 45 minutes later I struggled to the phone and see the blurred diary I called in sick.

A few things have fallen into place today that I hope will stave off this terrible feeling. Yet I remain desperately tired. Beka thinks I should go and see my Doctor but I know he will sign me off. I don't want that.

So as I crawl through each hour my guide is the Messiah. That features in my eulogy too. Apart from that I have achieved nothing all day. My friends give the best advice but still it comes at me in waves. I know it will right itself sooner or later but right now I feel it will never pass.

I Heard a voice.

Seas of Mud and Lakes of Water.

Hello from a very wet Hertfordshire. It has been hammering it down all the day, the grass has turned to mud and there are great lakes of water all over the place. Rather put paid to my plan for a walk in the country via a quick pint in the Cowper Arms. So it has been a day of reading and listening to Handel.

Another week beckons. Christmas is drawing near and I've made no preparations at all. It's not even certain when I will be going down to Kent to see dad. The powers that be seem to require us to open on 22nd, 23rd and 24th-ludicrous. I think I don't have to do that but maybe will have to another year.

I haven't even looked at the diary barring meeting my supervisor tomorrow morning. I'm off on Friday to catch up with an old school friend in Cambridge and thinking of staying the weekend for the Varsity Bowl at Grange Road on the Sunday. Hoping to catch up with Jayne too.

Yet on this Sunday afternoon I'm just living in the moment. A gammon joint is roasting filling my flat with the wonderful aroma of cloves. Let tomorrow be tomorrow, I'm living in today, the here and now. See you all soon.

I Heard a Voice.

Stepping Back From the Brink.

As I wrote my last post on here on Thursday evening it felt as if I was teetering on the edge of a cliff. Yes it was that bad. Thank God for Risperidone and a couple of days away from my office. As I write now I'm tired but no longer overwhelmed by anxiety. I do not feel myself but much safer than then.

Being away gave me time to think. Birmingham was fun although we had far less time for our workshop than we were told so most of my part was culled. The conference theme of peer support was I suspect challenging listening for those from statutory services. The local people from HPUFT were there but silent. The groundswell was that peer support belongs to us not the professionals. The risk of professionalising it is that it loses its essence. Maybe but if people want careers after madness it does provide an opportunity. I talk extensively about them and us and changing sides in Charon's Ferry.

There is no easy solution but I suspect that in the unlikely event I apply for and get the job I'm mulling over I will have to find a solution. I had a conversation with a friend about that job. His response was more or less I assume you have applied and if not why not? I remain undecided though.

On another front I finally managed to meet with my tutor. She told me to stop researching and start writing. I now know I have the information I need and a structure I can use. So hopefully I am back on track.

Off now to cook lamb chops with some mint jelly. Might have a nice glass of Chianti with it. Then roast gammon tomorrow. Now all I need is more sleep.

I Heard a Voice.

Close to the Danger Zone.

Very little remains in my mind of yesterday or the day before. I was in zombie. The crazy pace, expectation and series of everything that could go wrong did go wrong left me in a terrible place. Exhausted, overwhelmed with anxiety and seeing no other way out with some reluctance I increased my risperidone and trimipramine last night. I intend to keep it on higher levels for a while.

After 9 hours sleep, a day away from my office and the prospect of a trip to Birmingham tomorrow I remain tired but no exhausted, anxious but not overwhelmed, and hanging in there a little better than of late.

Learn my limits. I must keep telling myself that. Yet still I try to fight on. What happens when I'm not at the coal face of madness at the University? Good question. As I write I'm trying to stave off taking some time out via my Doctor. To stay functioning I need to look at what is expected, what can be put off and what can I do that is feasible. I don't know the answers to that but if I don't the choice may be taken out of my hands. I know if I see the Doctor he will tell me to slow down. Better avoid him?

Today was not without merit. I have done more on my studies than I realised. My tutor said stop working and start constructing it. I have all the materials and finally a direction on structure. I also had some encouraging advice from a friend and colleague about a job I have been weighing up. Views have been mixed and I have reservations. The worst that could happen is they don't short-list  me. Harder though is the sheer terror in the unlikely event they give me the job. A fine challenge but what anxiety could it bring? Nothing changes without taking risks. Should I do it?

I Heard a Voice.

Not Much Study Today.

It's Saturday evening. A chicken is roasting in the oven. Mozart opera gladdens the heart. England lost at rugby again. And I did almost no study at all today. Not quite as I envisioned it this morning. Saturday good, Mozart good, chicken good, no study no good. Considering the lack of lectures-there have been none-lack of resources and the sense that I'm floundering around in the dark is not as bad as I feared it might be. I am getting things read and done but I have no idea if they are the right things. So the anxiety will prolong for some time.

But I live in the here and now. Good things are in front of me. I have found a job I think I might apply for. Christmas is getting ever nearer and another epic lunch at Beka's is on the horizon. So not all is bad.

It was a tough week but I'm feeling more with it, less stressed and a little less tired. If I can afford the time tomorrow I may venture to the Eight Bells in Old Hatfield for lunch before watching the Hurricanes play at the University. Promised Allan the chaplain I would try to come and support. Next week looks a little different. Will not be in my office beyond Wednesday lunch time. A hospital visit will occur then, governor's meetings all day Thursday then off to Birmingham for the Mind Conference on Friday. More time away from the books but variety does help calm the mind. More soon.

I Heard a Voice.

Played Often, Rarely Performed.

Given my great passion for Mozart it may surprise you dear reader that in my years of music I have only performed Mozart on 3 occasions. We sang the Vespers on tour in Belgium in 1981. Sadly we never did record it. In the years of my retirement-which are in the main ongoing-I sang the Requiem very badly. The performance was not that bad but I was bad.

Yet the performance I recall most is of playing 2nd violin in the Clarinet Quintet in what I think must have been 1986. I'm pretty certain it was my O Level year-yes I am that old. Perhaps not coincidentally I studied the piece for O Level music. My violin playing days were marred by laziness, a lack of practice, no confidence and teachers who spent so much time dwelling on my many technical faults that I forgot that music is about playing music not bashing out notes with no emotion.

We all recall great teachers from school or university. I had a lot of bad music teachers and a great one. Neil Cox who ran the choir at Lancing occasionally delved into other realms of music too. It was him who asked me to play in the Quintet along with an upper 6th cellist and 3 professionals. And it was Neil that bollocked me when I didn't do enough work and ended up wasting the time of others. So I went away and worked hard. In the end the performance was a triumph and I recall it as very much the only public performance of me playing the violin that I enjoyed. 2 years later on the eve of my long delayed grade 8 exam he told me "forget about the notes, for fuck's sake play music". I headed the advice and breezed the exam with a mark I could never have dreamed of.

This week Mozart has featured on Composer of the Week on Radio 3. The final part of the final programme played the sublime Quintet in its entirety. It was a joy.

I have not had the easiest of weeks but had a good chat with my ever supportive friend and colleague Kym, finally got to eat my Spanish beef stew, I have a beer open and Mozart plays. That is the way to end a tough week.

I Heard a Voice.

What If?

My 24 year history of mental illness has been regularly marred by tragedy. I still remember the call to tell me of the first suicide of a friend. She had manic depression-we still called it that in the mid 1990s. We had been in hospital together. A nurse we had always got on well. All the time I knew her she seemed neither manic nor depressed. Just unhappy. I'm told the day she hanged herself she turned up to the ward, said she was bit down, went home and killed herself. By that stage I had been cast into the outer darkness of the untreatable. But Bernie's little band whose world the great genius would save were not allowed to talk about it. They were angry. We were always angry in those days.

As the years passed by I would lose 9 friends to suicide, a cousin, an acquaintance and a student. Many others died too young. In fact the dedication in A Pillar of Impotence is to my friends who died too young. Each death cuts deep and hard. But we must move on.

If it is someone I knew as a practitioner I am forever left with the what if question. I have lost 4 people I worked with. And with each I have asked the same question. If I dwell on it it is certain my madness will return. Most of the time I don't.

Today a memory was stirred that once again has made me think what if?  It hurts like hell. I'm at home trying to stay warm, listening to music and trying to switch off. I know I could have done little more but still my loneliness eats me. A great debate has been raging recently in my world about who is responsible for what. I'm not important enough to answer that but an answer will come. The question is can I and we handle that answer. And that is what drives the anxiety. What if? It probably won't happen but it is not easy. Tomorrow I must go back to the fight and put it aside. If not I am lost.

I Heard a Voice.

The Spirituality of Childhood.

Each Monday for the last 6 weeks I have stayed in to watch ITV's drama series Grantchester. I have 2 very personal reasons why I have this devotion to a programme that is not quite the Cambridge equivalent of Inspector Morse that I expected. Firstly it was commissioned by a great friend of mine Tory Fea. Tory currently holds the number 3 position in ITV drama held back only by her desire for a young family in recent years. Tory is one of those very few people who is brilliant at everything but is actually really nice. Few people get to the top by being nice. She did.

The other reason is Grantchester played a huge part in my childhood. Many Wednesday afternoons and Sunday mornings were spent in that beautiful village with its ancient church and war memorial that includes the war poet Rupert Brooke as a man of the village. Noel Brewster who was vicar at the church during the 1970s and 1980s was a great friend. Often he took us for days out, I went to the church and generally treated us kindly when others perhaps did not. There spirituality meant something to me. Not elsewhere.

During my illness I rather neglected my friendship after Noel had retired. He wrote to me but I was too ashamed of my madness to write back. He died in the late 1990s-I don't recall the year-and I attended his funeral. His memorial reads simply Noel Brewster Priest.

What Noel would have made of the crime busting vicar in the drama I'm not sure. People of his generation might not be comfortably with the searing sexuality, angst, and flaws of the character. It's intense stuff. The 1950s seem a strange world to us today. But human emotion has been human emotion throughout history.

I look forward to series 2. For now I recall the marvellous images of that place that is sacred to me conjured up for me in Tory's drama. Mixed days but great in many respects.

I Heard a Voice.

Procrastinating Saturday.

My intention this afternoon was to do some study. I downloaded and printed off 3 more academic papers to support my project yesterday. An afternoon of opera and academia never occurred though-the All Black are back in town. Shameless procrastination but they only come once a year so that is my afternoon well and truly changed.

In another change my tentative ventures into the realm of fish will continue tonight. I will sear a tuna steak-line caught of course-marinaded in garlic, cinnamon, pomegranate molasses and coriander. Nice and rare if I get it right-mum would not approve. I do need to eat more fish and cut out the fat in my post smoking world, am getting fatter by the day.

These diversions are needed after a long and at times arduous week. I'm still standing and doing well but managing 3 crises at once is really stretching resources. Sooner or later we are in danger of losing someone. Yet crises do dissipate in time. I just have to work hard to bring that about.

Tomorrow is Remembrance Sunday. I have my poppy although it looks a bit battered. And in my quiet way I will remember those who gave their lives for my freedom and that of others. It is a privilege to experience the freedom on my country, sadly others may not have that in other countries. Will post again soon.

I Heard a Voice.

Silver Frost and Pale Sunshine.

A sharp silvery frost lit by a pale autumn sun greeted me early this morning by the lake. It's surface is covered in the detritus of the fall and nothing moved at all. A classic autumn morning. The cold has come, the leaves are falling, and the season marches on. By late morning that sun had melted it into a glistening dew. So started a day of much and change. It is coming whether we like it or not.

I'm still doing well with All Souls and All Saints days disappearing into the past. Life feels good if busy so on we go. I am buoyed by a rather splendid book I bought in a charity shop when I visited dad. Matthew Fort the food writer, broadcaster and journalist toured round Sicily on a Vespa some years ago. A scene featured in Rick Stein's Mediterranean Odyssey in which Fort enthused about simple fresh ingredients. The book of that adventure Sweet Honey, Bitter Lemons. It is a delightful book that will remind me of warmer times in the weeks to come. I guess that means putting off other books but so be it.

The rest of the week looks okayish so far. Just waiting for calls now to send me off on another made dash. Long may it stay silent. Until soon I will leave you.

I Heard a Voice.

Portly Recovery.

On Saturday I bumped into someone I knew from back in the hospital days. I would say friend, compatriot, survivor but he was exceptionally obnoxious, aggressive and unpleasant at the height of his illness. He had few friends just people who tolerated him in limited doses. My background was different to his and my many others companions on the road of madness yet we were held together by that madness. Souls thrown together by circumstance, illness and stigma. That was a bond few could break.

Seeing him there entering my friend Mandy the butcher's shop almost exactly 23 years since I first met him showed 2 divergent path. He has lost so much weight. He has stopped drinking and using drugs. He no longer shouts at people but is polite. He takes medication. And he said he now has friends who care for him.

I have put on weight-he called me portly. I no longer live there and as the years pass have less and less contact with those from back then. I take medication. I have a career, a place to live, some influence and an independence I never dreamed I would gain. And I have friends.

So who did the best of us? In truth neither. Each recovery is as valid as the other. Recovery is not a model it is a philosophy. In the wrong hands it is very dangerous. The man I saw on Saturday is no lesser or more person than me. He may never work but he has come so far from whence he once was. Those with power should acknowledge that not just blanketly tar us all as worthy or unworthy. We have each moved on and for the better.

I feel heartened by this encounter. Back in my life now I'm reflecting on a weekend away, seeing dad, my friend's birthday, and a day's study. Yes I got round to that today as we had a tutorial. I appear on the right lines with my enquiries. Long may that continue. So with baroque music accompanying my reflections I pose you the reader the question, do we take enough out of those chance encounters and marvel at how far we have come?

I Heard a Voice.

Halloween Heatwave.

Hard though it may be to believe but here in the UK we are having a Halloween heatwave. 21 degrees at the end of October! I ditched my coat today and switched to my summer blazer-still sweltering. Now down in Kent visiting dad and to go to a party I struggled to get dry after a bath as it is so humid.

What a strange day. It ends a reasonably good week where some progress was made both on work and study fronts but there is still a hell of a long way to go.

I'm doing well. Mood is good, I don't feel too stressed and that fear of being overwhelmed has not been spotted on the horizon yet. So to a weekend in Kent. Dinner at The Butt of Sherry, lunch tomorrow at The Nutmeg,  a little shopping then my friend's birthday party. Mexican is on the menu then, not my normal fare but a good change. See you all in November.

I Heard a Voice.

Startling Nature.

I inadvertently startled our resident heron yesterday. I didn't realise he was by the trees as I ventured for a seat for 5 minutes away from the mayhem on a beautiful sunny morning. Off he flew marvellous in his grace, high and clear of that lake. Soon I will say goodbye to the lake as we are moving back to campus in December. As I predicted time is flying, almost November. The NFL is around its half way point. The holiday is looming but there are steps to go before then.

Back in the office I'm desperately playing catch up after the dramas of the last 2 weeks. My diary is getting packed out by the end of Monday for the week. I'm getting anxious about my MSc. Yes I'm reading and correlating sources at home but I need a couple of hours in my office to select data to use for my piece. That can only be done there. But when? In truth I need to do it this week. I'm away visiting dad at the weekend and with a group tutorial planned for next Monday I need something to go there with. I guess I'm praying for a cancellation or 2.

Yet I'm still standing, still coping, still creaking but not overwhelmed. I'm going out tonight for a curry with my friend Hannah. I supported her through her PGCE a couple of years ago. I always like working with education students as I went down that path myself. I wonder where I would be now had I just got the break I needed with a job back in those days. Fate decreed I would never teach. I tried and failed. That was a life time away. What I do now is of more value although financially less rewarded. Many students have noted in passing how glad they are I did not get a chance in teaching. Had chance been different they would never have met me. I cannot help everyone but some value me for my highly than I deserve.

I Heard a Voice.

Cultural Pursuits on a Saturday Afternoon.

After all the drama of the last week or so I made it through to another weekend. After rising very late I decided I really needed to get on with some study. So to the accompaniment of Haydn's The Creation I set about re reading some work and checking for other sources I can use in the dreaded referencing section. It was actually quite a productive afternoon reminding me of what I had forgotten. I fear she will move the goalposts when we meet again in 3 weeks but I need to get progressing. There is a group tutorial a week Monday. Given that there are only 2 of us doing this module this semester it could be a cosy affair.

Studies completed I ventured into my other great cultural pursuit and returned to my kitchen. I'm visiting Thailand today with a belly pork curry. I spent some time pounding not 1 but 2 curry pastes and what I anticipate will be a fiery visit to that epic cuisine is bubbling away gently on my hob. Richard is coming to share it with me so to eat in about 2 hours.

I feel I need the rest after this week. Dealing with fall out then had a minor bug yesterday that kept me at home. Some mention stress but I think it is just a chance encounter with something in passing. Despite the last week I don't feel too stressed, exasperated at times yes but not stressed. In 2 months we will be celebrating Christmas. After some consultation I think it will just be us at home this year. Dad didn't feel he or the aga could cope with 9 people; it is after all quite a small house.

Tonight I will don my Panama Hat for a charity event at the Hedgehog in memory of our dear friend Jeff who succumbed to his long battle with cancer 10 months ago. I miss him. He always wore a hat so we will honour him in that way too.

I Heard a Voice.

Sounds of Teenage Angst.

In the days before Madonna took the musical world by storm in around 1984 there was another brash and eccentric American woman singer with a squeaky voice, wild hair and outrageous dress sense. Her name was and is Cyndi Lauper. It's hard believe all these years later that she was once bigger than Madonna. She was Lady Gaga years before Lady Gaga.

Earlier in the week whilst wandering aimlessly around HMV trying to escape the chaos for an hour I found her first album She's So Unusual in a sale. The whole world knows that girl power anthem Girls Just Want to Have Fun. It still plays at all the parties of 40 somethings throughout the land. It was not really for that that I bought it for. I had my years of rage and teenage angst in the 1980s and that album was part of my backing track of melancholy. Money Changes Everything, Time After Time, When You Were Mine all featured in that curious time of chaos and pain before we end our childhood.

Looking back now I already had significant signs of mood disorder and mental illness back then. It just didn't explode and destroy my life until I was 20. Some of those songs were woven into the fabric of my madness. Not about me as the psychiatrists arrogantly suggested but representing the words and emotions that I could not express. It was not until A Pillar of Impotence  hit the world that I was really able to put words to that pain.

Much has passed since then but I was still moved by the music of my madness; just not destroyed. Back at home I dined on rare steak, potatoes sauteed in duck fat, minted peas and Rioja to the more sedate accompaniment of J S Bach. What a contrast.

In what passes for my career I'm still up against it. I did nothing but answer the phone on Monday. The events of last Thursday are still taking much of my time but so be it. And at the end of each day I reflect. Did I do some good today? In the main yes. I'm holding up well but struggling to keep up. The other fear is my studies. Hardly got off the ground with them and I need to get going. Maybe the weekend will bring respite. We will see. Until next time adios.

I Heard a Voice.

Standing Room Only.

The world and his brother seemed to be headed for London at lunch time. It resembled the early morning commuter trains with nowhere to sit and standing room only. Days Arsenal play at home are always busy yet as they fanned out at Finsbury Park it was still standing room only. That said I got lucky and managed to sit down after Potter's Bar.

As I ambled along the Charing Cross Road I mused on how much had changed since my brief spell in a London psychiatric unit in 1994. Yes 20 years have passed. Most of the book shops I perused in those days as I fled from the pressures of therapy designed to tear me apart have gone. My old friend Foyles still exists and in I went. Thinking it had had a major makeover it was not until I made a passing comment to the shop assistant that I realised it had actually moved to a different building. Time marching on. I'm greyer now than then. Maybe wiser. Certainly fatter. But infinitely better mentally.

It was a short and restrained trip. A Dim Sum lunch, a few shops, some walking then home. I had hoped to pop into the Porcupine but it was packed so I headed straight for the tube.

Tomorrow is a roast chicken day. I have bought some English wine to accompany it from the Chapel Down vineyard near Tenterden. So close to what was my home for so long. There's an outside chance Beka may join me for lunch. That would be good.

Maybe more tomorrow.

I Heard a Voice.

Do Your Job.

Many people cannot understand my passion for and love affair with American football. To some British people it pales in comparison to rugby. It is played by soft people as they are covered in pads. It is too slow, too confusing. There are too many players. And too many rules. Well having played-and loved-both American football and rugby I can tell you they are different but equally tough. What really attracts me is that the former is that it is the ultimate physical chess. Eveything is choreographed with 11 players on each side needed to act together. If not it all goes horribly wrong. It is a game of plan then counter plan, of adjustment, of physicality and skill. Above all each player needs to do his job. Often the commentators will say "do your job".

My days of player football are long gone. I will never go back. But that phrase do your job rings true often enough. Yesterday I left my office on the way to A&E at 5.15 pm and got home at 2.45 am. It was indeed a long day. I earned my money, felt humbled, ashamed but in the end I did my job. As I was teaching today I had to go in rather than take the day off. I dropped by my office to collect my car and tie up loose end. Then and only then did I go for lunch and a beer in the Three Horseshoes.

The post mortem will begin on Monday. And once again what my job is will come to the fore. In truth if I hadn't done it, delivered my special skills at that time of life threatening crisis, the outcome could have been worse. That is not to say that I am special it is just the experience I bring in what I have done in my so called career.

As this time of change plays out for me I think there will be much debate why I do that and should I do that. I will hold as firm as I can for that is what I do. Lots of people were worried but we made the calls, took the decisions and dealt with it. Let's hope it does not cause further discomfort in these uncertain times.

Another weekend is here though. If I can summon up the energy after only 4 hours sleep last night I might get the train to London, Chinatown, Foyles, The Porcupine and some gentle wanderings appeal if the rain stays off.

I Heard a Voice.

Shifting Sands.

Someone asked me a couple of years ago "who are your allies"? In the context of that day I had to dodge the question; I had no allies in that room. In fact I have plenty. Many rate me far more highly than I deserve. But there are a lot who would want me by there side when the shit is flying. Sadly none of my allies have any power to help me.

On another day of relentless rain I am reflecting on an interesting couple of days. I'm irritated and struggling to switch my mind off. Cooking home made shepherd's pie did not help even though it was good. Beer is having no effect. I'm restless. Yet there is a glimmer. For what has been clear over those days is that the sands of power are shifting. None will come to me, I'm not important enough. But change might brings allies who do choose to help me.

I'm aware this is just the start. Where I am in a year is anyone's guess. The big question is how long am I prepared to wait for something that may not happen? In truth if I see an opportunity I will check it out, size it up then maybe try to change my life.

For now the mayhem of term is well and truly under way-I have 6 students to see tomorrow. Nothing dramatic has happened so once again I reflect on a another week with just 2 days to its end. I'm getting older but I'm not burning out, chronically depressed, searingly angry or in my mini mania. Just a bit irritated and restless. Time for some American football I think-I know the Rams lost this week but I'm slightly heartened that they were more competitive than the score suggested.

I Heard a Voice.

Lamb, Reading and Mozart-a Very Quiet Sunday.

Hello there. I'm back. As the title suggests I have gone back to my safety mode and had a very quiet Sunday. The Marriage of Figaro has provided the background for an afternoon of reading. A half leg of lamb with go in the oven at about 5.30 for an hour or so then 30 minute rest for my supper. Potatoes will roast in duck fat and I will have my traditional medley of vegetables the like of which I rarely match on other days of the week.

In the main it has been a relaxing weekend. I've woken up late each day and barely a thought for the coming week. It is busy there but at the moment I am not stressed by it all. We are still in early days of the new term but I have no doubt I will seem to blink and it will be Christmas.

Talking of which we need to decide what to do for that special day. Miriam and Nigel will not be there this year so could be just me and dad. I have suggested to him that perhaps we might invite Beka et al for another epic lunch but no decisions yet on that. Whatever we do I'm sure it will be fun.

So as we head towards another working week I'm doing well. Mood good but safe. Energy still there. No sign of mania or depression. Long may that continue.

I Heard a Voice

The Nearly Man.

My intention was to write this blog yesterday to mark World Mental Health Day but I ran out of time. Yes that day again. As I ever I failed to get anything organised at the University-it takes a lot of planning and the date is awful as it is week 2 of term. But I was pleasantly surprised to find that a small group of students did something on their own. I learned of the existence of a student led mental health group. Fantastic news as they will make far more headway than I ever could.

World Mental Health Day also marked the first anniversary of the publication of Charon's Ferry in paperback. I actually had 2 quite negative comments about it this week. Others though think it is better than the first book. Maybe you should decide:

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Charons-Ferry-Mark-Edgar/dp/1783820233/ref=tmm_pap_title_0 

Away from that though it was the morning after the night before. Yes I attended the grand Flare Awards dinner. And pretty grand it was too. All the important people who wouldn't give me the time of day normally were there. I didn't win so another case of a nearly man-3 shortlistings for awards in 3 years but no prizes. But it mattered not. My work was completely fraudulent as innovation-I merely borrowed from elsewhere. My friend Humphrey did however win a prize for true innovation in his quest to bring mental health services to the his native rural Cameroon. That is a truly worthy winner.

I did very much enjoy the evening along with my friend Katherine who came as my guest.

I Heard a Voice.

To Lock or Not to Lock?

This may sound hard to believe but I heard a brilliant talk this afternoon about toilet doors. Delivered by a woman called Asa-A should have a little o above it but couldn't find it on keyboard-pronounced Awsa from Sweden she inspired a small gathering on the not so inspiring subject. Of course it was a little more complicated than locks on toilet doors. What it was really about was power.

A former service user now social worker she conducted some research into locked door policies on inpatient wards in her area. Not keeping patients in in the classical sense but locks on bedroom and bathroom doors that are controlled by the patients. Across 8 wards there was no uniformity on one or other or both or neither. No one knew the purpose of why it had evolved in each context given that safety fears meant staff could open them anyway.

Staff felt it was safer to have door unlocked. Patients felt safer with locks. Well wouldn't you going to the toilet? I asked if staff had separate and lockable bathrooms. Of course they did. Which brings me to my eternal question stolen from my friend Madeline, whose need does that serve?

The power of a lock is significant. Who holds that key? He who has power. The real purpose of today's seminar is that we have to provide patient centred care that makes them feel safe and allows them to recover. It is not about what is most convenient and easy for us practitioners.

Of other interest from the amazing Asa/Awsa is that to be on her team of peer support workers individuals need to have at least 5 years inpatient experience. On those grounds I couldn't even apply! Great speaker and an inspiration.

Back in what passes for my normality things are hotting up. Requests are coming thick and fast and the feared PDs are well represented. Looks like I'm in for a busy time!

I Heard a Voice.

Two Decades on From Cambridge.

More than a quarter of a century has now passed since I returned to Cambridge as an undergraduate. I arrived in this week 1988 as an arrogant naive dreamer. In June 1991 I graduated despite severe mental illness and was admitted to a psychiatric ward some 6 weeks later. I was battered, broken, and unable to believe in my own senses any more.

Today I have come a long way. Readers will attest to that and those gracious enough to humour me by reading my books will also attest. But has Cambridge moved on?

When I got home this afternoon I logged onto Facebook to find a message from an old friend from my school days in Cambridge. There was a link to a story in the Guardian. 

http://www.theguardian.com/education/2014/oct/06/cambridge-university-student-depression-eating-disorders 

Still the driven perfectionism that no one admitted back in my day apparently is rife in my old stomping ground. A friend Richard just started work there as a counsellor last week. He wondered why it was that despite fewer students some 600 more students a year access counselling there than do at Hertfordshire. Maybe today's story is proof for him.

I survived despite. Many blamed pressure of Cambridge. Yet there was no pressure until I got ill. I could cope. I was thriving. Then the most obscure emotional attachment destroyed what was my life. What I know is that my life was already a mess. But it was not Cambridge that triggered it.

Think of all those driven high flyers. Privileged? Flawed just like everyone else. They are just bright, bright and flawed. Just like me. Some say suicide rates at Oxford and Cambridge are 10 times higher than at other places. Who guides them back from the brink? Not me.  Perhaps one day I will return but that is in the hands of others. I tried and failed 4 years ago. Now I'm good and thriving again. There will be lows in the coming weeks. But no sign of them yet.

I Heard a Voice.

What a Difference a Day Makes.

What a contrast. After the teeming rain and cold of yesterday we have had bright sunshine all day. Not a cloud in the sky and so warm I sweltered on my post lunch walk.

Yes walking. I need to to shift this weight. I suppose roast gammon and crackling didn't help but it is Sunday. To make up for the good behaviour I had a bakewell tart to go along with Lapsang Souchong tea. A most civilised day.

Tomorrow I have to pick up the pieces for Friday. I always get a little anxious when I meet suicidal students, the wrong words and disaster can follow. But it doesn't usually. I am still haunted by the tragic deaths of 3 students known to me since I got there in 2007. In the reality I could have done no more. But it doesn't stop me asking myself that dreadful question. 3 in 7 years is a tragedy but we can't save everyone. In truth it was down to luck that we didn't lose more. Whilst some rave of my skill the truth is I flounder around in the dark in those circumstances.

Last year I saw a disturbing rise in students who claim to have both bipolar and BPD. Is it possible to have both? I have my doubts. What I do know is that such women, and they are almost exclusively women, are amongst my highest risk people. That trend seems to set to continue.

So as I bask in another kind weekend I am reminded that I must be ever vigilant. Vigilant and lucky. On a kinder note, fantastically well done Ros in completing the Cardiff half marathon, braver than me! See you all in the week.

I Heard a Voice.

The Rains of Autumn.

Greetings. I seem to have been away from here for ages. Actually it was Tuesday when I last posted. Well I survived week 1 without too much drama. Had a couple of calls yesterday that led me away from the the plan and on the move but nothing too drastic. Long may that continue.

With the exception of battles with data collection-yes they are ongoing-it was a good week. My meeting with my tutor was really helpful so now have a direction to go. Much of it will be built on my previous work and data I can already access. It had not really troubled me much but my thoughts were rather thwarted by the needs of the ethics committee whose wheels grind slowly and would almost certainly scupper a January deadline. So it will be sampling existing feedback from the last couple of years.

Now it is the weekend. The rain was teeming down much of the day, more like late November than early October. I did venture out and got rather wet. A hearty hot and sour soup with Yang certainly hit the spot then home for study. All accompanied by Cosi fan Tutte.

Work complete I have cooked, stir fried fish with black bean sauce, a dish my mum liked, I watched Inspector Morse, and now have Handel's Xerxes on the radio. I do so like opera in English.

So I bid you good night, I now retire back to T E Lawrence with a beer and a contented heart and mind.

A Last Post.

The last day of September. I told you time would fly. The NFL regular season is now 4 weeks old, a quarter gone. Term has started at last. Not had to get anyone sectioned yet but had an IT system meltdown this morning-why do people make things so complicated? It is also pay day-always good. Now that I'm saving so much money not smoking I can afford to buy the odd nice item now so raided John Lewis on the way home. After a curry at the Raj of India I'm home in the warm and reaching out to you all. Figures a little down this month but never mind.

Coming up tomorrow I am teaching. And again in 2 weeks time. I have been invited to co facilitate a creative writing workshop at the Mind PeerFest 14 conference with my friend Laura. We have decided to call it Picasso with a Pen: Painting Your Story in Words. I have some work to do but that should be fine.

I will also finally meet my tutor tomorrow for my last MSc module. There was nothing up on the system last I looked but must check out the site in the morning before I meet her. A week tomorrow is the Awards dinner. Still not checked out the DJ but hoping I will be okay.

Mood is good in the main. It will come under pressure in the coming weeks but that is just as likely to send me up as it is down. Not had a mini mania for ages. It sounds tempting but I count the cost after in angry friends. Oh well, maybe not such a good idea. See you in October.

I Heard a Voice.

The Land of the Living.

After 3 days not being at my best I appear to be back in the land of the living. I awoke without a headache for the first time since Tuesday. No paracetamol, still on the fluids but feeling more rested. And what a beautiful day to come back to. Unseasonably warm, almost sweltering.

Shopping done, quick drink  with my colleague James  before a walk ensued. Have to do something to shift these unwanted pounds not smoking. On TV a Tory MP has just defected to UKIP. We are in for an interesting election come next May.

As for later, I have to do some boring cleaning. I will then pan fry a couple of trout fillets-a new venture for me-followed by an evening of opera on the radio, Verdi's Othello is on. Happier days than of late.

I Heard a Voice.

Pills, Fluids and Rest.

Plenty of fluids. Isn't that always what Doctors say to those with viruses? For the past 3 days I've been popping pills, drinking copious amounts of water and resting. Whatever has afflicted me-and several of my friends-has certainly worn me out. I did manage to venture out for an hour or so, just enough time to brave the Turkish barber and to do a little shopping. A brief foray to support my friend's charity coffee party then I had to retire to bed. With luck it will shift over the weekend and I can be set for Monday. Yes Monday, perhaps the most chaotic day of my academic year-students arrive tomorrow.

Staying warm at home I'm listening to Mozart's C Minor Mass.Think I may read for a while. Having put it to one side for a while I'm back on Seven Pillars of Wisdom. Having been hugely disappointed by my venture into Henry James-how to write a book where nothing happens-in all honesty I wish I had stuck to the T E Lawrence when I was away. 3 new books arrived recently, 2 by a friend from the PGCE days and the follow up to Gabriel's Angel, Stranger Than Kindness. Might start on that tomorrow.

If my luck holds, next time I'm on here I will be feeling more human. Now there is a toast!

I Heard a Voice

Not at My Best.

In a rare midweek afternoon post you find me sat at home listening to the Simon Bolivar Quartet playing sublime Brahms, trying to stay warm and drinking copious amounts of fluids. I awoke feeling decidedly under the weather with a headache, sore throat and the shivers. God I hope this doesn't develop into anything nasty. So I'm dosing myself up with cold and flu remedy, trying to stay awake and listening to the radio.

All this is in sharp contrast to recent weeks of good health-and by that I mean mental-and preparations for the onslaught to come. I really don't have time for this so I hope it disappears as swiftly as it came.

I did force myself to eat a light salad lunch and will do something gentle tonight. Need to keep eating. No desire to do anything else at the moment.

It will go though sooner or later then the march goes on. Next stop Christmas!

I Heard a Voice.

Uninvited Visitors.

In recent years the streets of England have been filled with aggressive charity collectors trying to harass people and shame them into giving what little they have. All think their cause is more worthy than that of others. But we only have a finite amount to give. I have causes I support and even if they approach me in this way I'm irritated. Most charities pay young people to undertake this task. Most are politely dismissed.

That is much harder though if they ring one's buzzer, say they can't hear you then accost in the corridors of one's own home. That is going too far. Whilst it is a charity I have some sympathy for I certainly won't be giving to them after such an unwanted intrusion.

Still irritated I find myself rather restless. Haydn plays which is good, I ate a fine Beef Rendang I made yesterday-not enough chilli-and I consider what to do next. A book? Some writing? Not really sure. Oh that I could deal with the unexpected as well at home as I do at work. And all after a nice day.

The countdown to mayhem continues. Monday will be D Day. After the last 2 years I approach it with a little trepidation. But I usually cope even in the most testing of times. For now though I continue to wrestle with our new data recording system-finally we go into the 21st century. Even techno-phobe like me looks forward to that!

I Heard a Voice.

A Cold Stove.

You may find this hard to believe but I haven't cooked since last Sunday. My stove which is usually so active has not been switched on at all. I just haven't felt like cooking so be making do and getting by. All that will change later when I do a Greek lamb casserole with lettuce and dill. Inspired by Beka and Mike's honeymoon I dug out a little Greek book I bought a few months ago and decided it was about time I tried it out. Today will be followed up by a halloumi and grape salad tomorrow-looks rather good. The grand affair will be roast pork, back to old favourites for Sunday lunch.

Another week has passed and things started to get interesting yesterday. Saw an old face and had some serious advising to do but we got there in the end.

Our Scottish friends decided to reject division from England, Wales and Northern Ireland but the political pundits are already talking of change all round. Devolution to the English? That would be interesting. Time will tell if we become more federal in our outlook here.

For now it is Bruckner on the radio and perhaps a book. Cooking starts at about 5.30 pm-can't stay away any longer!

To Change or Not to Change?

A historic day. History in the making. Changing the course of history. Such terms have been bandied around a lot recently in the British press. Putting my historians hat on, and yes that is ultimately my background, I cannot help but chuckle in that everything that ever happens changes history. Indeed everything has a history a fact that dawned on me when under pressure during my PGCE days. The question though is will historic days be remembered? Most events are not recalled. Only the big ones are recorded for posterity.

Today is polling day north of the border. Scotland votes on whether it becomes independent. Not all Scots get a vote, those living in England are excluded. Tomorrow we will wake up to something new or a modified same. Living in a democracy the Scots are very lucky to have that option. Not all around the world have the right to self determination via the ballot box. I do not know what the outcome will be. Neither really do my Scottish friends who do not get to vote. The Nationalists say the better together campaign is running scared. I might agree with them bearing in mind they have wheeled out the man I called the "arrogant one" in Charon's Ferry, the former Prime Minister Gordon Brown. But he was always popular in Scotland.

What strikes me from what I have followed and struggled to understand is that there are an awful lot ifs and buts should Scotland vote for independent. Battles won on rhetoric, nationalism and emotion seem to be devoid of much solid planning on how Scotland will run itself. Yet that is for them to decide.

Among the right wingers who drink in the Hedgehog at least one is hoping they go on the grounds that would guarantee a Tory victory in English elections for the foreseeable future.

We will learn tomorrow what will happen. For now I still work through the quiet inertia of the remaining days before the students return. It will not last.

I Heard a Voice.

Relentlessly Positive.

This morning I attended my 6th Vice-Chancellor's address to the University. I missed last year's as I was on holiday. My recollection of my very first was utter confusion. All was confusion in those days. Since then there has been a mix of trumpeting our success and doom and gloom. So it was with some surprise that I listened to an overwhelmingly positive address.

Living through 13 years of New Labour taught me a new word, spin. Of course most statements to the public are spun to an extent. It is really exciting the outlook sounds so good but given what I have heard from a number of sources my ride for the next 9 months could be rocky. But I'd be bored without the excitement.

Back at home I took tea, watched Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall drumming up I vegetarian feast that even I would relish it, and contemplating cooking or going out. Laksa won so I'm off out shortly.

As I stand on the cusp of another manic year I feel well placed. Mood is good but not too good. I'm not too anxious and there will be change. Whether it is change that I will like time will tell. But life would get very stale if it carried on in the same way year in year out.

I Heard a Voice.

A Gentle Saturday.

A week has now passed since the epic wedding. Beka and Mike are on a Greek island having a honeymoon, the autumn sun of earlier has disappeared, and I'm making the most of a gentle Saturday before the pandemonium that awaits me in 2 weeks.

A quiet day of shopping, tidying and organising my cluttered desk has ensued. There are still bargains to be had in the shops as summer disappears, managed to get a most splendid coat with 70% off today. I'm going to Bali for my dinner, a slow cooking of pork shoulder with chillies-lots of-ginger and Kecap Manis. I do so love the latter although it is some time since I used it. I discovered it in Amsterdam in 1999. That time I went alone, a strange experience. Back in the days before I found the Holy Grail. That was a long time ago.

I'm sure I'm just talking to myself here as no one seems to be out and about in blogland. Maybe someone will read this later.

So into the silence I bit farewell until the next time. See you all then!

I Heard a Voice

Autumn Beauty.

Most of you may have noticed that I'm not really a morning person. So going to bed last night I wasn't really looking forward to such an early start to return to work. Yet the the morning that greeted me was so beautiful in the bright autumn sunshine with that tell tale chill in the air. The leaves are already beginning to turn. Give it a couple of weeks and the main route into town will look more like New England in the fall than Hertfordshire in autumn. I don't approve of the lack of pubs in my town-it was conceived by a Quaker-but the tree lined avenues are most special. Few sights offer such early morning beauty a a sun lit autumn morning.

Buoyed by this I faced the day. Lots of e mails to deal with, coffee with our excellent chaplain and a phone interview. Never done one of those before. It was not for a job but for my Service Improvement project on my MSc which has been nominated for an award for innovation. I assume it must have gone okay as next stop is Black Tie ceremony in October. Exciting stuff although I suspect I will be an also ran in the great scheme of things. Nice to be included. I wonder if I can still fit in my Dinner Suit which has not been worn since I gave up smoking?

Back at home I did a fiery Vietnamese dish of chicken stir fried with lemongrass and chillies, a glass of Chardonnay, and a Handel opera. Not too bad a start to the back to work phase that now faces me. How long until I get tested I wonder? Not long I guess, I have had to go to hospital with detained students in the first week of each of the last 2 academic years. Here's hoping for no repeat of those scenarios.

I Heard a Voice.

The Final Day.

All good things must come to an end. Yes today is the last day of my holiday. Tomorrow I return to early starts, expecting the unexpected and generally being bust pretty much right through to April. The next few weeks will see me undertaking some of my least favourite parts of my jobs but I'm sure we will soon be up and running with important things.

Fortunately the sun has been shining and generally agreeable. I went for a 40 minute walk which was good. Given how much I'm eating not smoking I think I will have to try to make that a regular event. Where I'm going to find the time though I have no idea.

By way of a change I'm listening to the Bruch violin concerto, not listened to that in some months. Some days too since I listened to any opera.

The time has flown but in the main I have enjoyed myself. Seeing Ros, my fantastic birthday and then such a splendid wedding. I guess I have been spoiled by good things this summer. I'm quite fond of autumn as a general rule. No doubt it will fly to Christmas, then the dark months of February and March will slow my mood. But that is leaping ahead. Far too much to do before then.

I have chosen the Middle East for today's food, some chicken roasted marinaded in sumac, cinnamon, lime juice and olive oil, perhaps some harissa and cumin potatoes to go with it. On my last day I must have some fine food.

I Heard a Voice.

Touching the Sublime!

What a day! Where do I start? It was truly sublime at Beka and Mike's wedding. Looking radiant if anxious, I managed to get her to the the church on time, didn't stumble over my reading and all well went down without a hitch. And the sun shone.

Such a magical day for some of my oldest friends. My speech brought out a lot of emotion in those gathered and was hugely well received. We feasted on roast hog-got through an entire 60 kg pig-the bar served real ale and the music was loud. Too loud for my dad so we sadly left a little early. Actually that was pre-planned but we had such a great time.

Waking today I now have to face reality after such a fantastic event. I will drive home late tomorrow morning-here's hoping the traffic is okay. A day at home devoted to watching NFL games that I am recording tonight. Then and only then do I return to the University. At the moment it is far from my mind but it will loom large when I'm back in Hertfordshire.

So I must make the most of my last few days. Happy times.

I Heard a Voice.

Preparations On Going.

It is Thursday evening UK time. In 36 hours the wedding will be underway. Having chatted to both bride and groom today it is all going more smoothly than I anticipated. I can get into my new suit and shirt-was a little worried about the latter as my weight keeps creeping up off the cigarettes. I will do another reading through and reminder of my speech prior to our church rehearsal in 23 hours time.

So I think I have done all I can do. Now to focus on our curry night and enjoying the end of my holiday. Thankfully the sun is shining in Kent, I'm catching up with a few people and my mood is holding. Sleep still a little erratic though.

I'm trying not to think of next week and the return to work. No doubt there will be plenty that comes in during my absence-many e mails to discard.

I guess we are now in the autumn. The NFL season starts tonight-hurrah-and the nights are drawing in. Year 8 will be underway. I wonder how it will pan out?

I Heard a Voice.

A Milestone!

20,000 hits on my blog right now! Can't believe it. Many thanks for all your support over the last 4 years.

I Heard a Voice.

Don't Look Back, You Can Never Look Back.

Parking in most towns in England is a nightmare. It also gets worse with every passing year. Some years have passed since I last drove in Cambridge; viewing it now I'm not sure I will risk it again. When one has lived and worked in a place for some time one learns all the free parking areas. That is especially true working in the community; and all the good coffee shops.

Today I took a little trip into town and parked in my old road. I felt a strange pang of nostalgia there. Then I thought about it for a while and remembered the utter loneliness of being a new comer there and also the fear and anxiety I had creating a job from scratch. Thinking about that I realised that it was exactly 7 years ago today that I moved to that road.

Did I think I would be in the same job 7 years later? Not really. I had never done a job for more than 2 years before. Someone said when I started you will either last 6 months or 20 years. 20 years, I cannot imagine that doing what I do now.

Back at home I'm listening to the marvellously haunting songs of Michael Head. It only just occurred to me that most are in minor keys. Beka's parents knew Michael Head. Tortured man I would imagine. I've been practising my reading for Saturday, a Shakespeare sonnet. And reminding myself of my speech.

I drive down tomorrow for happy days. This has been a long time coming. See you all when I see you.

I Heard a Voice.

The Ghost Chilli.

What a night! After my recent turbulence my birthday was spectacular. So much food, so many friends, so many messages, and a couple of beers. Well that's not strictly true. I am blessed to have such wonderful friends. Many had not met each other before yesterday but everyone got on. A true day to remember.

Now it the day after I emerged not hungover, tired but relaxed to my first day of being 45. Yes only 5 years to 50. It flies at this age. But there is much to savour. The day has been most gentle, shopping, The Marriage of Figaro, a couple of glasses of Pimm's, lamb chops and Chianti and now Beethoven's violin sonatas.

So where do I go from here as I enter my 8th year at the University? The answer is I don't know. Only time will tell me that. For the time being though I will savour my blessings, focus on what I have got and sample the marvellous presents people gave me. Dory of course outdid everyone by giving me a huge box of chillies, She felt she needed an addition though so she also bought me the ghost chilli! I'm not sure I'm brave enough to try it but you never know.

Tomorrow brings a jaunt round some country pubs with a couple of friends. Tuesday brings lunch out with a colleague. And Wednesday takes me to Kent. The count down to the big wedding it well under way.

I Heard a Voice.

A Surprise Visit.

Today did not start well. My original plan was cancelled yesterday. It left open opportunities for St Albans or Cambridge perhaps. That was all dependent on sleeping well. It didn't happen. The edgy feeling of the last few days persists and the dreams are back. I'm hoping it is only temporary. Not always easy making decisions on day when I feel like this. So I just ambled about, bought a couple of bits and pieces then off to a shopping centre. A pub was planned on the way home.

Well it didn't happen. A surprising call from my friend Ali over here from Nigeria brought me back to home for a most unexpected meeting. We only did coffee and walked with her boys in the park and we were only together 90 minutes but such a nice change on a day that was not up to much.

Home again I can't be bothered to cook. So it is to the take away. Then on to tomorrow. The big birthday. I will see many friends tomorrow. Let's hope my mood holds and anxiety disappears even for a short while.

I might write one more post before the end of August; see you then.

I Heard a Voice.

Undisturbed Memories.

Sometimes it just takes a single sound, sight or smell to trigger buried memories. That can work for good as well as ill. For the mad it can go a stage further into flashback although I've not had one of those for some time. Well not whilst I was awake anyway.

Those who lived through private school in the 1970s and 1980s will recall places that were at best spartan and at worst brutal. Those were words my friend Erny used to describe his time at his boarding school. No doubt such conditions always existed before then too but I didn't witness them.

Any of us who lived through that time in the famous choir that became such a part of my life will recall the words "tap" and "Star of Bethlehem". I mention the latter in Charon's Ferry. Only those with a sadistic temperament will recall them with any fondness. It was institutional bullying the like of which I know was replicated in other choir schools at the time.

So why mention that today? Well it will be very hard to has not noticed the ice bucket craze that is sweeping the world at the moment. All in a good cause although not everyone knows which cause. Nor how to pay. It struck me as an awful thing to do to put people in a position where they are pressured into getting drenched in ice cold water. I wouldn't want to nominate anyone.

Late last night this strange phenomenon took me back to the 1970s. Not good to awaken slumbering demons. And those demons came for me in the night. I slept very badly and awoke far too early. The promise of the day and the sun soon evaporated and I find myself a little restless.

Yet with Mozart's Great Mass playing I hope to ease the anxiety of the night and the past as I drift on towards Saturday. The big day, 45, two meals out and lots of friends. That is something  to erase the past. Well until the next time.

I Heard a Voice.

The Sun has Been Spotted!

There is a rumour flying round Facebook that the sun has been spotted in my part of Hertfordshire this afternoon. I think it is just that, a rumour. At least it has stopped raining though. I'm at home in the warm listening to Pink Floyd's iconic album Dark Side of the Moon. All crazy people from the 1990s will recognise it as our anthem. Those who came to my book launch in February will recall I talked about it in a context of "us and them" which is such a pivotal theme in Charon's Ferry.

And so my holiday goes on despite the rain. I'm taking it gently today. Popped to the Cowper Arms just up the road for a quick pint. Tonight I will meet my friend Hannah at the Fu Hao. Each day that ticks away brings me closer to the new year. For now I will try to forget about that.

It would appear that my recent communications in this sphere and in others have had a profound impact on some out there. In reality I'm just quite good with words. The emotion behind it all is genuine enough though. I am so lucky to have such a wonderful collection of friends out there from so many walks of life. So on a day of coming autumn I celebrate my friends and my happy but not manic outlook of the last couple of days. Must stay away from the buzzy times-pisses people off too much.

I Heard a Voice

Recovery, Moving on, and Meeting the Past.

The rain has been pouring down all day. It is so cold I have put a jumper on. The smell of roasting collar of bacon and cloves pervades through my flat. And I'm listening to Alanis Morrisette's brilliant album Jagged Little Pill. Don't get mad get even, an afternoon of female angst. I'm not feeling any angst at all today.

On a Bank Holiday Monday which traditionally was set aside for the Day of Decadence I'm reflecting on how far I have come. As I caught the train to London yesterday I was filled with a mix of anticipation, anxiety and curiosity. 24 hours later after a glorious few hours with my old friend Ros my fears have dissipated. Both of us have seen the demons of mental illness and tragedy yet as we faced each other for the first time in nearly 20 years we both realised quite how far we have come.

As was pointed out to me last year at a conference recovery is a journey not a destination so we are not "there" yet nor will we ever get there. But we made it this far. Trials and tribulations will beset us both at times for years to come but we have to fight back. What is the alternative?

I know one day my madness will return but it will not longer destroy me. Too much of my life was spent succumbing to fate and not fighting back. Now I know something different.

So to Ros who is out there a long way away, thanks for a meeting of minds in the here and now not of our angst and despair ridden former years.

I Heard a Voice.

Anyone Out There?

All seems quiet out in blogland. Numbers have dropped off and as ever no reason for it. But things will pick up at some stage no doubt. The quiet out there is matched by the quiet of my day. Shopping, cleaning and all those dull things. Well I suppose they have to be done at some stage.

Having completed my virtuous tasks for the afternoon it is on to cooking. A lamb tagine is bubbling away, a theme on a variation in a book that I added my own touches to. Smells good so it is promising. My beloved Mozart also plays although at this stage it is a violin sonata rather than an opera.

So starts my holiday. I'm glad to be away from things quiet though they were. Mood is neither good nor bad; it just is. Tomorrow I will catch the train to London although services are disrupted yet again. I also expect it to be busy with the Notting Hill Carnival on. I've never been although I was invited my friend Beth's then boyfriend some years ago but they split up before the event. I wonder what happened to him? I rather liked him. The count down to Beka's wedding goes on-2 weeks today. I wrote my father of the bride speech yesterday. Well to be honest it is not exactly written, merely 8 bullet points to remind me. This time next week I will be 45. A number of friends will come for that-should be fun.

More posts in the week. See you then if you come back.

I Heard a Voice

The Chill of Autumn.

There is something incredibly uplifting and invigorating about listening to Carmina Burana early in the morning on the way to work. The first chills of autumn have arrived as the summer trickles to its end. It seems very early for such a chill to come but each year is different. In August 2007 I was desperately trying to find somewhere to live as the rain hammered down and my move to the university was imminent. It was all a different world then. Perhaps I am more hardened and cynical now than then.

I had things on my mind on the way, I wasn't happy but not angry. What seemed to face me was a bureaucratic nightmare that I thought had long been left behind. The first phone call of the day alleviated that somewhat and my path to re-enrollment on my course appears smoother than it did last night.

It is day of tidying things up. There are a couple of little tasks to do before I break at the end of the week. Then and only then can I count down to my traditional end of summer beginning of autumn break. Will I be refreshed when the mayhem begins again in earnest? I hope so. We go once again into the unknown. Change is teasing us with possibilities. But none of us know the outcomes. Change can be disconcerting. My friend Madeline said to me yesterday that I needed to do things differently if I want to make change to work for me. I will give that one some thought whilst I'm away.

On Sunday I will meet up with my old friend Ros for the first time in nearly 20 years. She recently learned that her nephews have a rare genetic disorder that will almost certainly shorten their lives. The poignant and sad story featured in the Guardian at the weekend. I share it here for you all.

http://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2014/aug/16/our-beautiful-sons-could-die-before-us

Hurrah, a link that works-had some assistance from my friend James.

I Heard a Voice.

No More Until April.

England demolished India inside 3 days this afternoon in the 5th and final Test. Yes I wrote them off. I have doubts how they will fare against better opposition. But it's a good fightback. Yet I will have to wait until April before I watch them again. That's right, no more Test cricket for England until the spring. I detest ODIs and 20/20 matches so I'm in for a long wait.

Stepping into the limelight though is the NFL in less than a month. West Ham too although I'm not very positive about them either; losing after dominating in the 92nd minute. In A Pillar of Impotence I used the term the pegs on which I hung the mantle of my madness for my sporting interests in the long months of depressed nothingness. All that time on my hands, no wonder I stayed depressed for so long.

Another weekend comes to its close. I'm listening to Cosi fa Tutti and quaffing Syrah after some splendid roast lamb. A nice end. Tomorrow looks quiet but I said that last Tuesday too. Only a week to go before I break. I'm in a better place mentally than I was most of last week. Nothing seems in the horizon and I'm not too worried about what might be over it.

For now I content myself with Mozart and fine wine, the morrow can be the morrow.

I Heard a Voice.

Glad That is Over.

What a week. I certainly don't expect chaos and mayhem in August. I think I'm somewhat better than last time I posted on here. Finally had a debrief yesterday-they pre-empted me. Will it make me better off? I don't know but nice not to be left on my own to deal with it all.

I'm taking it very easy this weekend. I was supposed to be going to the Great British Beer Festival at Olympia with my friend Malik last night but I worked late and was too tired. Didn't stop me overdoing things in the hog last night so not at my best. More than anything else I feel tired. There is a fiery Thai curry infusing for tonight. Tomorrow I venture back to lamb for the first time in a while. Nice slow roast on a gentle Sunday.

There is but one more week of work before I'm off again. 2 weeks today I will be 45. 3 weeks today Beka gets married. In a month the mayhem will start all over again. But that can wait. An afternoon of cricket awaits me as I recuperate from this week.

I Heard a Voice.

Belated Lamentations.

Sometimes it is good to wait a day or so after a tough one. Early yesterday morning I heard the tragic news of the suicide of Robin Williams just as it broke. As I tried to sleep I planned a post for when I got home. But it never happened.

It was a day when once again I realised quite how much is expected of me yet with no mandate of power vested in me. It was truly awful and I came away angry and demoralised. I concocted angry posts which I wisely did not put up.

A day later I recall what I say to all my ambitious health care students, and I have a lot of those, you cannot save the world. Did I fail? Maybe. But as I have said for a long time on here I am utterly flawed and only as good as the students I can help.

With Handel's Saul accompanying my evening and a light supper of Iberico Jamon, Manchego and grapes I will write my lamentations. I'm not a big film watcher. I have no interest in the cult of celebrity. I cannot define genius other than listening to Mozart and gazing at the wonders of Van Gogh. Yet I was deeply saddened to hear of the death of Mr Williams. He was one of the most gifted performers I ever saw on screen. While people rave about Mrs Doubtfire and Goodwill Hunting I recall Good Morning Vietnam, Dead Poets Society, and the rarely mentioned The World According to Garp.

Until the news broke I knew nothing of his battles with addiction and depression. But now it all fits. In fact I would go further and suggest that there is a lot of evidence that he had bipolar for real rather than these sham charlatans amongst the stars who claim that diagnosis as a glorious badge of honour. Others too see it now.

The outpouring of grief seems curiously genuine. I hope this tragedy will bring out some good in the long battle we have to beat mental health stigma. The famous can do so much more than mere nobodies like me.

Back in my world I must rest, take stock and go once more into the fray on the morrow. That's all I can do. Until next time.

I Heard a Voice

What Hurricane?

All week we have been warned that the UK would be lashed by the remnants of hurricane Bertha today. Well, where was it? Wet and windy at times interspersed with sunshine. Not at all what I feared and certainly nowhere near the mighty storm of October 1987 which devastated the south of England. Relieved to be honest, travelling home on the train in storms is not fun.

Yes I'm home after a weekend seeing my dad, Miriam and some of my Kent friends. Beka is stressing about the wedding, dad is unwell but I'm all will work out. I'm clearer now on my speech on the day. Rumour has it I'm quite good at public speaking so hopefully I will be at my best. Well I have to be given the distinguished man I'm standing in for.

So what of the next week? A few students, a couple of lunch dates, the odd coffee and not much else. August is so quiet at the University but after the extraordinary intensity that pervades term time I'm sure we all deserve a more sedate pace of life even if it only for a couple of months.

I'm listening to Mendelssohn which is very pleasant; not done that for a while. I think I shall return to Handel tomorrow. And after that catch up on the cricket highlights-England win inside 3 days.

See you al soon.

I Heard a Voice.

Hunting in the Sun.

Out on the lake the heron in hunting as the August sun beats down. At Old Trafford England's bowlers are hunting in a pack and demolishing India's batting. A glorious sight as summer moves inexorably towards its end. Only 3 weeks until September. And September means wedding.

Having paraded around various shops in the last week or so since I came back from Prague I finally bought a new suit today. I'm paying the price for giving up smoking, the weight has definitely gone on. Do I diet and starve or do I just succumb to the inevitable of being middle aged and just try to limit the damage? I'll report back in the autumn.

My mood is more stable and buoyant than at any time since I had my day out with Dory. It has been somewhat rocky. The catalyst for this change? A rather surprising e mail from the University Careers Service notifying me that my Service Improvement module work entitled Oh Where Shall Wisdom Be Found? has been nominated for an award for innovation and entrepreneurship. I'm stunned. I never expected that. They want to do an interview in September to see if it goes through to the final. I guess I had better look back through it between now and then. I doubt it will go further but nice to be nominated all the same.

Stuart Broad has just taken the final India wicket. Now the hard part, going out to bat. Is the pitch bad? Is the bowling good? Was the batting poor? We will know more come 6.30 pm at the close of play.

Tomorrow after work I will get the train down to Kent to see dad and catch up with friends. Not been there for ages. Saturday afternoon on the beach weather permitting-summer time can be so good!

I Heard a Voice.

We Will Remember Them.

As a child my mum used to tell me the story of my great uncle Leo. He like so many young men had joined the army to fight in the Great War under age. He died during the March Push of 1918, the final German offensive of the war; his body was never found.

Today we mark the start of that Great War 100 years on. It is not a time for patriotism and the various speeches of so many great men today reflect that the war was a tragedy for all the world and that the protagonists at least in Western Europe have now been allies for seven decades. We remember all those who fell. So let us on this day set aside our xenophobia and racism and unite in humanity.

They said in 1918 it was the war to end all wars. How wrong they were. The world is aflame although perhaps not on that scale. In the Middle East, in Africa, in the former Soviet Union, in Afghanistan and Pakistan war rages on. I can do nothing about that. Other than hope that one day the angry will see sense and sanity prevail. I fear though that is false hope.

For all those who have lost someone in war, today is about remembering.

I Heard a Voice.