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.

Hideous Fake.

This is the first of two posts today. This one is self indulgent and irrelevant. The second post is very important so stay patient.

After a weekend of feeling low and confused I do feel somewhat better today. It was not helped by the fact that my vapouriser which has kept me off the cigarettes for 74 days unexpectedly died. Nowhere I know that sells them was open so as a temporary measure I purchased and e cigarette from Sainsbury's. Utterly hideous. I would never have been able to stay off that long with just one of those.

All is saved now as I managed to catch the shop before it closed and replace the offending part. So we can resume reality.

Funny thing is I have no idea why I was low. I was tired but I'd had such a good week depression seemed a long way off. But the beast that is my madness came back. Back at home I'm listening to Mahler's 9th. Not heard it before. And consuming a glass of Pimm's. There are only three weeks of work before my next break. Perused the suits in various shops today in anticipation of Beka and Mike's wedding. Must give the speech more thought too.

More self indulgence soon, next up something serious.

I Heard a Voice.

Is Morse Really That Old?

For many years now I have been a fan of Inspector Morse. I must have seen each episode at least half a dozen times if not more. Still today I watch if it is repeated. John Thaw is long dead of course but one of his two defining characters lives on.

This afternoon I watched an old episode and as the credits rolled at the end to the haunting music I noted that that episode came out in 1989. So long ago it got be thinking. So long indeed that it was before I got ill. I was in my first and second years at Cambridge during that calender year. After some initial loneliness things picked up that year as we headed for the next decade. I recall it as a happy time.

The funny thing looking back now is that my life was a mess even before I met Rachel. When I talk of my experience in my lectures I always say that if my life had been fine then I probably would not have had a breakdown. The foundations of my life were built on sand not clay. And we all know what poor foundations lead to.

I find it hard to recall not being ill. The key to recovery in my preaching world is not to go back to what was before. That is impossible after years of mental illness. Recovery is about making changes and moving forward not looking back. That is the essence of Charon's Ferry.

Today I find myself low and wanting to be alone. I'm listening to Offenbach which is marvellous but I don't want to face the world. Yet I have a friend coming for dinner so I will don the mask for the sake of the roast chicken and hope to feel better tomorrow. For is then that I have to go back to reality.

I Heard a Voice.

African Evangelist Invasion.

On a Saturday when it was slightly cooler than of late I did my normal trip into town. Busy. The local area was flooded by smiling Africans evangelising and singing very loudly. All very interesting but I really didn't want to have a religious paper pushed in my face on every street corner. They flooded the place. I certainly respect anyone's faith but I am somewhat alarmed that some feel the need to convert others. Well I'm not interested. Talking of conversion it looked very much like the Jehovah's beat a hasty retreat in the face of such an onslaught.

Quiet afternoon of reading and Mozart ensued after. I feel tired despite sleeping late. Mood is so so, no more no less. But I am cooking. So in about 30 minutes a rack of lamb coated with sumac and cumin to briefly roast-looking forward to that. Then just a gentle evening I hope. That said I suspect the Hedgehog will be busy-someone's having a party.

The only question now is do I slump in front of the TV or do I put some opera on? I suspect I might go for Verdi's Falstaff.

I Heard a Voice.

Sedate Nostalgia.

Whilst sat in the St Christopher Inn on Borough High Street this afternoon that it occurred to me that 20 years and 3 days have elapsed since I was last discharged from a psychiatric hospital. The pub, then known as the Grapes lies in the shadow of the unit I christened the Hotel California after the famous song by the Eagles. That line "you can check out any time you like but you can never leave" was so apt for the arrogant consultant who dismissed people with a wave of a hand and made sure they got no help elsewhere if he thought they were wrong. Yet in my case he was wrong. I did find a better shrink and I did find a medication that works. Readers of A Pillar of Impotence will recall that time.

That trip down memory lane on a sedate August afternoon followed our epic visit to Borough Market. By God did I spend some money. The giving up smoking is yielding financial dividends. Dory was on fine form as ever. To misquote C S Lewis "and came galumphing back". And I did galumph with a cool  bag laden with goodies. Free range chicken from Somerset, herbs and spices from Iran, Lebanon, Egypt, and Sri Lanka, fleur du sel from Brittany, organic English vegetables, cured meats and cheese from Spain, the finest Darjeeling tea from India, and blackberry jam from France. Dory braved the mighty ghost chilli although that will be going to her uncle. What a splendid day out.

Back in my flat the sedate pace continues with a beer, the Messiah, and a range of cook books. Must find ingenious ways of using such fine ingredients.

My holiday is coming to an end but it was worth it. I'm tired as the nightmares have started to creep back but not as often as before. Let's hope for more sleep tonight.

I Heard a Voice.