Too Quiet.

Some of you might have been wondering where I have been all week. In truth it has been so quiet I haven't had anything to say. So quiet indeed that at times I found myself feeling very bored. And in my life boredom leads to depression.

Well I guess I'm flat rather than depressed. I did not feel great this morning when I woke up so I cancelled my plan to go to St Albans. I did shop and do some cleaning but really not been up to much today. I'm supposed to be going to the Fu Hao with a friend tonight but will certainly take it quite gently.

Next week looks somewhat more promising so hoping this will pick me up. Until then it is Gilbert and Sullivan, some opera tomorrow followed by friends coming for roast pork in the evening.

I Heard a Voice.

PS I haven't had cigarette for 10 days, I'm amazed! Still hate not smoking though!

A Sunny Holiday Weekend.

Greetings from a beautiful sunny day in Hertfordshire. Tomorrow is the 4th and final public holiday of the last few weeks. Always odd when Easter is so late to get so many together. No more until the week of my birthday in August.

It has been a day to relax for me. Ventured out to country pub for a pint of IPA then made some Pimm's when I got home. A half shoulder of lamb is slow roasting in the oven and a Mozart opera is accompanying my afternoon. I didn't have any lunch today so very much looking forward to the lamb at 6.30 pm.

The really big news is that it is now day 4 of trying to give up smoking and so far so good. I bought a vapouriser which helps a great deal. Tastes odd, little bit like pipe tobacco but I'm doing okay so far. Let's hope it lasts and I don't have continued hassle from Doctors and Dentists-they are a pain in the bum.

Tomorrow I will be in a the fine Horse and Groom pub in Hatfield with some friends from work followed by a curry. It has taken 7 years but I've finally found people there who are quite happy to go out for a few pints without making a big fuss of it. Invitations are rare but welcome.

I think I'm doing okay mentally. I'm back to my normal dose of Risperidone after raising it for a few weeks. Term is over so maybe it will be quiet in the coming weeks. Dad and I are off to Prague and Vienna in July. I went to the former at a very low point of my illness so recall little of it. I've never been to the latter.

See you soon-yes the audience has returned now.

I Heard a Voice.

And So it Came to Pass.

My many years of singing ecclesiastical music have made me quite familiar with both the old and new testaments of the bible. So often one reads words to the effect of "and so it came to pass", "according to the prophets", and "so the scripture was fulfilled". Well I am not a prophet and I always tell my students I cannot predict the future. But sometimes I do make such predications. Usually I am right. So I say it here without telling you what the prophecy I made some time ago was that it shall come to pass. Cryptic eh? Well time will tell.

It has been an interesting day. A day on which I made a decision. That decision may not be realised for a while but I have made it. For now I will see back and watch events unfold.

Back at home I'm listening to Renaissance music prompted by an excellent Radio 3 broadcast on Monteverdi. I'm digesting my supper of pork with sage and cider and polishing of the rest of my glass of cider. I don't often drink cider, only when I cook with it, but I must always uphold mum's legacy and buy a variety from Somerset.

The other thing that happened today is that my e friend-we have never met-Charley published a very impressive review of "Charon's Ferry" on the internationally recognised mental health website Madness and Literature Network:

http://www.madnessandliterature.org/literature.php?id=211&resultpage=1

The links still don't seem to be coming out on here but you can copy and past to your browser if you are interested. Maybe it will boost sales.

Until next time.

I Heard a Voice.

Back Home in Cambridge.

It was 23 years ago that I last took to an American football field to face the old enemy of Oxford in the 3rd Varsity Bowl. We lost that day but yesterday I took a trip down memory lane returning to my beloved Cambridge to witness the resurrected Pythons defeat the Oxford Lancers 33-6 to lift the Varsity Bowl once again. What a great day out that was. Glorious sunshine, a resounding victory followed by a couple of pints of Justinian ale in the Devonshire Arms. 

At the game I saw an old friend whom I have known for 26 years. He revealed for the first time that he had read "A Pillar of Impotence". Being the pedant that he is he pointed out the errors. There are many but that is missing the point. The power of the story lies in the narrative not my own flaws as a writer and editor. It is mildly irritating but I know what it is about.

Of more significance though was some information that he imparted that could be of use in a year or so's time. We will see how it pans out.

On an equally glorious day I'm now at home listening to Choral Evensong on the radio and contemplating putting a gammon joint in the oven to roast. I'm very partial to ham particularly when studded with cloves and doused in honey. I will not apply the honey until the end as it always seems to burn. After dinner I'm determined to finish "Brighton Rock" which seems to be taking me far too long. Perhaps some opera to accompany it; it has got to be Mozart.

I Heard a Voice.

A Cigar is Just a Cigar.

The only quote I know from Freud is "sometimes a cigar is just a cigar". I've never read Freud but I'm surrounded all day at work by people who believe in Freud above anything else. I had Freud thrust down my throat in the years of pointless therapy. But what if Freud was wrong? What if there is far less subconscious than he thought? Counsellors speak a language I don't understand and see meaning that may or may not be there that I don't get. Does that mean they're right and I'm wrong? I think he was full of shit. What if I'm right?

Last night I sat through a 90 minute talk on the dynamics of suicide. Rather than hear about the dynamics of suicide I heard a lot about subconscious and that suicide is not suicide but it is the murder of others. Well I know a thing or two about suicide and rarely have I come across that. When people are truly suicidal in the main that never even crosses their minds. Is it an attack on others? In fact many people attempt suicide precisely because they don't think anyone cares. Some it is true overdose out of rage at the world. But those rarely complete. Or should I say succeed? Sorry I'm not allowed to say the latter.

Whatever language we use though has to be translated to real speak. Talking a language known only to Freudian psycho-therapists is only of help to them. It doesn't help me. The skill people say I have is in my use of language. For I speak our language, the language of the madman who knows of suicide and despair and hopelessness.

I walked away as so many raved thinking I should only have gone to the last 5 minutes. In that 5 minutes the speaker did in indeed articulate the dynamics of suicide. Someone I know said on the way out it was a waste of money. I'm not sure but I wasn't overly impressed even if others raved.

Tomorrow it is back to the office as the term moves towards its end. What a strange year it has been for me.

I Heard a Voice.

The Book I Might Have Written.

A bright little boy. A poor background. Scholarships. Boarding school. Cambridge. A girl. Obsession. Mental hospitals. Death. Does that all have the makings of a good book? Fiction of course! Could it be real? Well it was and is real. It is the book I wrote.

Yet that is not the only book with all those elements. There is another book. It has quite rightly sold many thousands more copies than my humble effort. That book is Sebastian Faulks' "Engleby". I read it a couple of years ago at the recommendation of my sister Miriam. She would not tell me anything about it other than you will understand. For "Engleby" is the book I might have written had my life had a more tragic course to it. My book has a happy ending, his does not.

So why mention it today? Well an academic I know who lives in Cambridge reluctantly asked me about it today. I guess his reluctance was for the same reason. It is my story. Strange how the imagination of a very successful author can create something so real to life without ever meeting it's true embodiment. I will never be a successful writer. Some say my books inspire. To me they are just my life in all its meagre detail. Does that make me vain? Or the narcissist of allegation and fiction? Others must decide that. When an old friend contacted me out of the blue just before Christmas I told her I hoped I was no longer as self obsessed as I was when I knew her. I hope I'm right.

Time marches and we will see what happens next in the story. It will I guarantee not have the same ending as Faulks' creation in such a dark novel.

I Heard a Voice.

Relaxing to Haydn.

My quiet Sunday is once again upon me. And I've taken it really easy today other than a brief shopping trip and some boring domesticity. With the sun trying to shine I content my afternoon with a Haydn opera and some reading.

After what was a good day time my mood slumped back into flatness last night. I didn't stay out late but rather came home for a glass of port and a comparatively early night. I awoke this morning with my mood a little brighter but nothing spectacular-oh for one of my mini highs. But a little up is far better than this time last week.

Belly pork strips roasted with sage and potatoes await me later along with peas, carrots and cabbage. Very basic I know but you will have noticed to simplicity of most of my Sundays. I'm way too English and traditional on Sunday. Others do culinary adventures of Sundays but not me.

Other than a governors meeting on Thursday I have no idea what next week looks like. Oh I forgot I have to go to a talk on the dynamics of suicide mid week. I know them well, I wonder if the speaker does? Just another week I suppose as I move inexorably towards turning 45 in August.

As for now, it is time for tea, Earl Grey I think today. See you soon.

I Heard a Voice.

Weight Loss-How Not to Do It!

Hail and salutations from not so sunny Hertfordshire. A strange day of sunshine and showers seems to be petering out to nothing. It has been a day of massive consumption for me. My friend Katherine came up to visit from London. And God did we eat.

Huge 3 course lunch at the Fu Hao with ribs and crispy duck. Dodging the showers at the visiting French market then coming home with wild boar sausage, boar terrine, and rabbit with prune terrine. On arrival our decadence continued with tea and cream scones. So fat now I can't face eating another thing.

So if you want to lose weight as so many of our brethren in the USA do, don't follow my example!!!

Now I'm listening to Rossini and contemplating a couple of hours with Graeme Greene and trying to digest the vast amount I have eaten.

On the book front we finally have some movement. I picked up my 9th 5* review on Amazon on Friday. And what a review it is:

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

Following a spot of selfish self promotion on Facebook and Linkedin the long halt of sales was ended at last. And there was me thinking it would sink without trace. The world of publishing is indeed a funny one.

More soon.

I Heard a Voice.

Draft Day.

Well the big day has arrived. At about midnight UK time the NFL 2014 draft kicks off in New York. For the uninitiated that means the annual selection of college football playing turning pro with the worst team picking first and the best team picking last. That of course is the theory. In reality it a high stakes poker game more akin to horse trading than poor team improving.

I always looks forward to the draft. It means the season is getting closer. But when that season starts so too does the chaos at work. I spent hardly any time in my office today. Rather I went to visit my old friend Jacek up at one of the local inpatient units. He bought me lunch, showed me round and introduced me to a lot of people. He even got me free parking. The oddest thing though was for the first time in 24 years seeing an ECT suite. Not what I expected.

It won't last though. The Trust faces as much change as the university. In but a little while that site will close and it will be all change.

The rest of the afternoon was spend doing my IT training. I think I have actually got it now.

Mood wise I feel okay, not better no worse. Tomorrow is Friday and another weekend comes. The Women's cycling tour comes to town on Saturday along with the French market and a visit from my friend Katherine. Ribs at the Fu Hao are in order. Let us hope it a pleasant weekend and that my beloved St Louis Rams pluck out some gems in the draft.

I Heard a Voice.

A Consultation.

Consult, consultation and consultant are words I hear all the time in my world. After all I have spent 24 years in the world of mental health where the consultant psychiatrist always was and is the great god of the field. In fact during my last spell on a psychiatric ward 20 years ago I referred to my consultant simply as god. And god got it so so wrong.

The connotation of all of those words is that an individual seeks out the wisdom of an expert. Apparently the counsellors I spend every day with can't function without doing a consultation first. I consult my Doctor if I'm unwell. And we already know about consultant psychiatrists.

Today I read a consultation paper on proposed changes to my work. Yet they are not asking my wisdom. They are saying this is what we are going to do so you will do it. That is not a consultation. The curious thing is that in the paper every job in our soon to be merged 2 departments was mentioned apart from mine. And oversight perhaps? Well other evidence suggests not. Is something special in line for me? I think so but I'm not sure it will help me at all. Another meeting is in the offing. Change will happen but I doubt it will help me.

Away from there I learned the perils of the internet when my expected package from the USA came not from there but from China. I like what I bought but I have certainly been duped. I also tried to change my e mail password but apparently my e mail doesn't exist. Funny that as I can still access it. For a man who hates technology for good reason-it always goes wrong-I'm amazed I've managed to write this blog for the last 3 1/2 years.

Maybe another post tomorrow, see you all soon. If anyone is actually out there!

I Heard a Voice.

Black Sheep and Country Pubs.

Today is a public holiday in the UK. It was introduced I'm told by the Labour government for workers on May Day. Very Russian to celebrate May Day. Cornish too down in Padstow where the great Rick Stein overwhelms the place with his eateries. After several low days I do feel somewhat better. Nice not to be working. That can wait until tomorrow.

On a lovely sunny day I headed first to town then to a country pub. I discovered the Plough at Smallford on one of my jaunts with my former ultimate boss David. We go out for lunch every 2-3 months or so. Down a country lane it is the epitomy of an old English pub. And they served me a splendid pint of Black Sheep ale. That too has featured in Stein's programmes. All very civilised.

I'm home now. Had my Darjeeling tea and Bath bun and am now listening to Offenbach's La Belle Helene. I do so like his comic operas. I will make a lamb and prune tagine shortly then contemplate what to do on a free evening. Now I feel a little better I suppose the world is my oyster.

Reality starts again tomorrow. I wonder how I will cope after my most recent setback? I'll let you all know when I get there.

I Heard a Voice.

A Flicker of Emotion.

After 2 days of utter emptiness I have finally started to feel something. What I feel is not great and I remain depressed at about -2 on my scale but something is better than nothing. Has the slow march back from the depths started? God I hope so.

A Mozart mass is playing at the moment. Before then I listened to Vivaldi. At 3 pm I will switch over to the radio for Choral Evensong. It hails from the old enemy at St John's. We sure took that rivalry seriously back in the singing days. I do hope they have sharpened their tone and got rid of that awful vibrato that marked their singing in the 1970s and 80s.

A pork shoulder joint is in the oven slow roasting. Smells rather good but today I will not share it. I don't feel like seeing or speaking to people still. That will come back. It remains to be seen how I feel come Tuesday when I have to go back to work. If it is like today I will probably stay home. That said the aimlessness of a Bank Holiday weekend probably isn't conducive to moving my mood back into the + territory I so desperately need.

Not sure about tonight. Maybe I will venture out. I did briefly last night but found it very hard. I did manage to sponsor a friend's charity haircut-he raised more than £500 for the charity that so helped our friend Jeff in his battle with cancer. As I sat there last night Jeff's photo looked down at me. I know what he would say-"fight"! That is what I kept telling him in his battle. Now he gets to return the advice from beyond the grave. I still miss him.

Oh well, back to a little more reading. See you soon.

I Heard a Voice.

The Twilight of Madness.

Many years ago I used to go a small Italian restaurant called Il Vaticano in Canterbury with my mum. Funny really as I've never like Italian food. But I liked it there and always asked for the coffee with the froth and chocolate after-I could never remember the word cappuccino. As I sat in the Fu Hao at lunch time with satay chicken and a Tsing Tao my mind wandered back to those days and to mum. Strange.

On a bright spring sunny day I find myself in the twilight of my madness. That area of dusk when I'm not quite ill but there is no light, only gloom. Last night my mind was aflame with thought and bad feelings. After a huge increase in medication I have no feeling. A few thoughts keep popping into my mind but they do not stir emotion.

Yes emotion, that thing a counsellor once told me I didn't understand. Bollocks. When I increase my medication it is to kill that emotion. It is too bad to contemplate. I'm not good but at this stage it could go either way. Do I descend or fight back? At present there seems little to fight back for. I found myself wanting to do what I call mental cutting last night. You know where you read, look, listen to things that cause pain. That is my self harm.

I do not want to talk to the world. My phones are off and will remain that way for a while. I can write on here since my audience has deserted me. Another small thing in a litany of life not going well recently. I'm also exhausted. It crossed my mind that I have not stopped being ill or working since Christmas. That is a long time. What goes up must come down. And I am down.

To try to stave off catastrophe on this long weekend I will return to my kitchen and cook my way out of it. Roast pork, parsley soup, lamb tagine, ribeye steak, and Thai belly pork curry will adorn the table I don't have over the next few days. I will stay put-tube strike on Monday has put paid to that plan-and wait it out. So if any of you see me and I don't speak, this is what mental illness is about. Utter loneliness and isolation. Let us pray the risperidone works its magic soon.

I Heard a Voice.

PS Perhaps a little opera will help, Verdi's Falstaff plays as I write.

Speaking to an Empty Hall.

When we launched "Charon's Ferry" at very short notice in February I expected my dad and the odd stray dog to be there. Fortunately a few more turned up and the audience must have numbered 50-60 people. As I write post number 407 on this blog no one seems to be out there reading. Viewing figures have fallen off a cliff in the last week. Perhaps this blog has turned to shit? I'm buggered if I know what has happened.

On that other front of book writing that too seems to have fallen off a cliff. No one is buying either book. After the strangest week for a long time I'm left baffled. Life seems to have changed but I have no idea why.

My last post was in the midst of a downturn in mood. Extra risperidone seems to have righted that but I'm still baffled. All that I predicted has changed. So the future looks intriguing indeed. More on that another time. That is if anyone is there to read.

Tomorrow is Friday and another bank holiday weekend. I was supposed to go to Beka's private viewing of her new exhibition tonight. But too much going on. I think instead I will go on Monday. Hoping Izzi will come too. I will sign off to empty blogland now. I don't know when I will be back. After all talking to myself is not much fun and might get me sectioned!

I Heard a Voice.