A Final Post.

If there is a way to good sleep surely it is spending a long leisurely lunch with my good friends Dory and Sarah, laughing, eating, drinking and catching up. A gentle day led to better sleep. It was fun.

The morning always comes though and whilst I slept on the day has been flat and detached. I'm not sure why. I don't feel like cooking although I have invited a friend. I can't settle on much, Beethoven's C Minor Mass mainly passed beyond my listening. A touch of the NFL failed to interest me. Now it is nature programmes with which to move on through the hours.

This is my final post of 2015. What a storm that year has been. Not exactly my best. Yet there were good times. I graduated. I saw Madrid and Toledo up close. I met new friends. And I survived. I do not feel back to my best yet. Will I ever get back or do I need to make those changes Sarah suggested yesterday? Probably both. Change has come but not much has gone in my favour in the day job. On Wednesday I must return. Taking Peter's advice that it is just a job and keep it separate will be my challenge for 2016.

I will see in the New Year as I have the last few years with my friends in The Hedgehog. May you all have a wonderful night and prosperous 2016.

More Than a Decade.

I can't quite remember when I last went to the cinema. I had thought it was to Return of the King in I think 2003. Then it crossed my mind that I took a load of service users to an awful disaster movie that might have been the following year. Whichever is right I don't suppose many people go more than a decade between trips to the cinema.

That all changed today when I first attended the rather quaint cinema in the town I call home to watch Star Wars-The Force Awakens. It was a very enjoyable afternoon although the 3D glasses took a bit of getting used to.

When I got up earlier I was in two minds whether to go or not. My throat was sore, I was congested and coughing a lot. I didn't really want to spread anything nor interrupt people's viewing by the noise. Several hours later and the film complete I feel a little better.

What is it with me and New Year illness? Two years ago I woke on New Year's Day with whooping cough. Last year tonsillitis. This year I'm hoping it is a simple cold.

Mentally I think I'm okay. Dark thoughts of next week have not taken over yet. Tomorrow Dory will also be joining Sarah and me, she has asked for a trip to The Sun at Lemsford. I wonder if the same vain waiter will be there?

And now to a quiet evening. TV or Beethoven? I haven't decided yet.

I Heard a Voice.

A Plague of Locusts.

We're in the strange in between days with Christmas over and New Year to come. The University is always shut then so I get a fairly generous holiday. A year ago I was desperately trying to complete my final MSc assignment having little or no idea what was expected over me. A year older I have the letters MSc to add to my MA, I'm fatter and probably not wiser. The last couple of months haven't been easy, the deaths, the burnout, the uncertainty and that anxiety. As New Year approaches what awaits me?

On a lovely sunny day I went to town to check out the sales and to fill up my fridge with food for the next few days. The sales were like a plague of locusts, too many people and too little to buy. Well not in shops that I have vouchers for. In past years we have received a John Lewis voucher as a small Christmas bonus. This year they changed to a card that is used in more shops but few I use. Only place worth buying anything was the aforementioned John Lewis so no use today. So it might have be £100 worth of books from Waterstones-marvellous but I already have way too many unread books and not enough time to read them. Never mind though.

My Kiwi friend Sarah is coming to visit on Wednesday. A nice lunch in a country pub and an afternoon of indulgence. Splendid eh?

Talking of food I kept it simple today. A couple of lovely lamb chops with mint sauce and vegetables. Proper stay at home food. Time now to watch the cricket highlights. It's looking likely England might pull of a glorious victory in South Africa. With West Ham winning as well as the Rams upsetting the Seahawks in Seattle it has been a good few sporting days for me. Catch up tomorrow?

I Heard a Voice.

Traffic Standstill.

There wasn't much chance of getting clocked for speeding south of the Dartford Crossing today. Each gantry and bridge flashed a speed limit of 40 mile per hour but no one could get anywhere near that. Clearly my cunning plan to drive home on Sunday lunch time was not quite so cunning-half the south of England was on the road.

I finally made it home after a 2 hour 40 minute journey to go 100 miles. It is still grey and dull but I'm glad to be home. Beans on toast, Earl Grey tea and a bath and I'm refreshed now after feeling rather jaded. Not a surprise really, we have been partying pretty hard. Boxing Day saw many old friends, not enough to eat and memories of those we have lost recently. I must return next weekend for Sue's funeral.

An evening of the NFL awaits although I am going out to eat, barely a morsel in the flat. My plan is to rest more this week. Sleep has become a lot more uneven which is a little bit of a worry. I'm not thinking much of work but it will come and it will start all over again. More of that later in the week.

My musings will probably keep coming as I'm off. See you then.

I Heard a Voice.

Massive Consumption.

Well, I feel fat. The goose was glorious, the ham divine, the Rioja splendid and the company magnificent. Another Christmas Day of massive consumption. Having cooked all day I'm tired as well as fat. Just supping Rioja until bed time now. Tomorrow is the epic Boxing Day Run. I hope all my lovely friends out there have had a great day. Chat soon.

I Heard a Voice.

Christmas Day!

To all my lovely friends out there in the crazy blog world, Happy Christmas! I will message tomorrow after roast goose!

I Heard a Voice.

The Pale Light of Winter.

The sun finally put in an appearance today-thank goodness for that. All these grey wet days have done nothing for my fragile mood. I slept on, no change yet on that front, but emerged to a beautiful sunny morning. Dad was off delivering cards and visiting mum's memorial stone. I braised the ham in cider as I planned. Looks great. Next to stud it witrh cloves and glaze it for Christmas Day.

This afternoon I managed to catch up with my great friend Beth. She used to be a regular visiter to my lovely cottage in Chapel Street but it has been increasingly hard to catch up with each other now we have both moved away. Norwich is not the easiest place to get to from mine but I'm determied to do it some time.

Back at dad's I managed to chat to Beka, she seemed much more with it today than the very depressed state of yesterday, and am now doing a chicken casserole in cider with mushroom. I've only cooked it once before but it was very nice.

Miriam arrives tomorrow so reinforcements on the organisation front. Dad is holding his own despite the dreaded Christmas card expectations that are a legacy of mum's life. I'm hoping that on the day he can relax, drink champagne, nibble canapes and generally be his affable self whilst Miriam and I do the cooking. That relaxed approach is definitely an improvement on the stress of yesteryear.

Hope to be on here again soon. Take care out there.

I Heard a Voice.

Howling Gale, Pouring Rain, Welcome to the Seaside!

I'm staring out from the spare room in my dad's house over a riotous sea, lashing rain and a gusting wind. It is not British seaside weather. This morning I battled the weather and crowds to complete my Christmas shopping, buy the canapes and pick up all the things that dad forgot. Waitrose at its worst.

Thankfully it is warm, dad's cleaner's friend very kindly wrapped up the presents-she is far more skilled at it than I am-and I made a shepherd's pie for tonight. Now I'm wondering what to do next.

I feel a little restless and in need of air but it is not very enticing. So decisions to be made. Strangely enough despite the terrible blow of the loss of my friend Izzi so soon after my other friends Trapper and Sue I feel rather calmer than of late mentally. The sleep continues in abundance but I don't feel low or anxious today. Some friends are having a Christmas party tonight so I heard on the grapevine so I may pop along to that for a while. I'm a day out in my thoughts, feels like Wednesday. Only a couple of days to go now. I plan to braise the ham in cider later then glaze it and heat it on the day. The goose will arrive on Christmas Eve.

So things to do, people to see. It is good to be away even on such a wet dreary day.

I Heard a Voice.

Another Day Another Loss.

Having lost 2 friends in a month or so I was left reeling once again today by the sudden death of a 3rd. I have said before that I have seen so many deaths in my time I'm almost anaethetised to it. But not now. Regular readers may recall my fellow blogger Izzi who have I have spoken of before on here. Well I was once again stunned today to learn on Facebook of her passing. I'm not sure of her exact age but I think it is no more than 27.

Life did not exactly deal her many good cards. Bipolar, autism and Crohn's had a huge impact on her life. But it didn't stop her completing a PhD and and MSc just in the time I have known her. To say I'm shocked doesn't really convey the grief. And it is grief for all 3 of my recently departed friends.

Given the setbacks I have had in recent weeks I really didn't need any more bad news. I have escaped to Kent for a week to see dad. It was a surprisingly good journey down. And then the news.

There is nothing I can do other than play each day at a time, rest and cook. Slow roast lamb is on right now and perhaps a glass of Rioja. Who knows what tomorrow will bring.

I Heard a Voice.

And on I Slept.

Everyone who has seen me since I made my first tentative steps back to work on Tuesday has commented on how tired I look. Given that I have had at least 10 hours sleep almost every night since the wheels fell of the bandwagon this is truly amazing. Yet I am still so tired. Another late start as I slept on and on. The question is when will this lift? I have time now but will it be enough?

When I did emerge at lunch time a day of nothing seemed on the horizon. The anxiety of the dodgy plumbing remains although it has been looked at by a friend with some knowledge. The contractors cannot get out apparently until 14th January. Absurd. Fingers crossed for the next month.

In town I bought nothing except a light lunch with Yang at the Fu Hao. Not as busy as I feared it might have been and I managed to park okay. Tomorrow I pack for Kent. Let us hope Sunday's journey goes without incident or hold up.

I have made small progress in my culinary endeavours for Christmas. Roast lamb, shepherd's pie, a chicken and mushroom casserole in cider and the mighty slow roast belly pork with fennel seeds and garlic with a sweet sherry sauce on Christmas Eve when Miriam arrived. I must also braise the ham beforehand. So lots to do.

There may be a final post tomorrow before I go. See you then.

I Heard a Voice.

Limping Into Port.

It's done. My dealings with the University this academic term are over. I am away now for 2 1/2 weeks. Is there still a lot of recuperating to do? In all honesty yes. A number of people commented today that I looked less well than I had on Tuesday. I'm relieved it is over for the time being. People have been hugely supportive-they usually are when I'm not well.

My overwhelming sense this minute is of emptiness. I am back in my eternally flawed flat. Still waiting news on a plumber. I have completely ignored my work with the Trust and at present still feel I need more time away. That creeping sense of fraudulence seems to be coming back. But why? Why should I beat myself up for being on holiday? It is I suppose part of the eternal battle I fight on mood.

The University is holding its annual Christmas Party tonight. I certainly don't feel up for a big party. I've not had turkey dinner yet which usually occurs a couple of times a week in December. Quite fancy some turkey. I had some rather second rate sushi for lunch.

So back in the home port and no longer buffeted by the storms of my job perhaps I should just relax, appreciate the sentiment of the season and look forward to seeing dad, Miriam, Nigel, Beka and Anne as well as all my many friends back in Kent. I drive down on Sunday. Then let us hope I can relax.

I Heard a Voice.

A Touch of Verdi.

The unseasonably warm weather here in the UK continues. Apparently we are on course for the hottest December ever. It remains dull and uninspiring though. Not much desire to go out really but I had to sort my prescription and see my Chinese friend in Hatfield market. Then just domestic stuff and once again wrestling with problem plumbing. It is only 10 days since a plumber came out, now I need him again.

Problems aside though on this quiet day at home I'm revisiting Verdi's Aida, working my way through Sunday supplements I had yet to touch, and wondering what of tomorrow. It will be my last day, albeit a short one. Will a 2 week holiday get me to where I need to be going forwards? I certainly can't continue as I did before. I will not see any students until January. My return date has been postponed as Sue's funeral is the day I was due back.

I have got no further in my Christmas preparations. Need to chat to dad really but I know he will be out this evening. I suppose it will have to be tomorrow.

Mentally I'm anxious but mood neutral. The anxiety purely relates to the aforementioned plumbing. Why did I ever move to this flat? Endless problems ever since I came here. Can't believe I will have been here 7 years in January. Where will I be in a year or so? Still here? Fate currently lies in far off as yet unannounced opportunities. Or maybe it will just be another year past, older, fatter, balder and greyer. Let us hope wherever I am I am wiser.

I Heard a Voice.

Glorious Tapas.

A couple of years ago you may recall I put up a post on here entitled "Bring on the Black Pigs". It was a glorious tribute to one of the finest food stuffs in the world, Iberico Jamon. I always buy it from Brindisa in Borough Market. Amazingly I haven't been there since February-must rectify that soon.

Yesterday I went to London to meet my old friend Rebecca to attend a Carol Service in Chelsea. But first she took me to Brindisa the restaurant. Oh my God, spectacularly is not the word. I do not even know if I have the words to describe such wondrous food. Jamon, manchego, membrillo, padron peppers, chorizo, spinach with pine nuts and sultanas. It was amazing. I'm not sure I will go too often given the price but what a lovely reunion.

Rebecca and I go back to 1989 when she was 16 and I was 19. As with so many of my friends we met through singing. And we dabbled at the service. She has just started lessons again. I'm not ready for that. So nice to catch up.

That morning after feeling took very little time to kick in. For today I went back to work. Having asked to do a slightly shorter they then told me to slow down. So I will just be in 2 days this week and then only a few hours. In truth that is probably a good plan but doesn't help my fragile confidence. They have managed without me so I guess when I get stronger I can come back to where I was before. The evidence of the last few weeks is that what was expected was unsustainable. So something must be done differently from now on in.

My colleagues have gone out for a Christmas dinner tonight but I didn't really feel up to that. Day at a time, hour at a time. It helps me set about the Christmas preparations that I have singularly failed to address in my time off.

So tomorrow is a rest day. That's good. I'll let you know how I get in shortly.

I Heard a Voice.

Handel, Mist and Cold.

A grey mist has descended on my part of Hertfordshire. Sums up the day really, grey, cold and dull. I haven't felt like doing much today after yet another late start. I have worked my way through the paper and a Handel opera. Now put a second one on, it is a day for Handel.

I'm edging closer to my return to the day job. Having thought very little about it this week it is beginning to loom in my consciousness. Tomorrow is my final day away. I'm travelling to London to attend a Carol Service down in Chelsea. Hoping that I will meet a couple of old friends I once sang with. I chose not to join the choir even though I was invited so to do. For now I just want to listen to music not perform.

Talking of performing I went to the launch gig of Hope's second EP "Optimist". What a performance from a girl so young, such power and control. Check her out on YouTube then download her work from iTunes. It really is worth it.

Rare rib of beef awaits me tonight. I have made the batter for the Yorkshire puddings and will parboil the potatoes after this post. I'm hoping fine beef will lift my flat and flagging mood. I'm not depressed just not where I would like to be.

This time in a week I will be in Kent psyching myself up for Christmas. I really must think today what I will cook during my stay. Invariably I take a couple of cook books down with me. Just a single present left to get, something for Beka. I received a most unexpected present on Friday when my colleagues sent me a lovely bottle of wine as a get well present. We don't always see eye to eye but they are very good a looking out for people when they are unwell.

And so I leave you today with buoyant viewing figures on here and a near run down to the holiday. I hope you are all coping with the coming festivities, it can be a pretty stressful time. Take care out there.

I Heard a Voice.

No Worries.

Yesterday took a most unexpected turn after I posted. I learned shortly after of the sudden death of my great friend Sue back home in Kent. An extraordinary and kind eccentric she launched the career of many a local musician, housed the waifs and strays of youth culture, led a decadent life style, was both a white witch and a Catholic-go figure that one-and was an all round superstar. She leaves a son James, a daughter Georgina, the grandchildren Lola and FiFi, and almost forgotten in the tributes a step son Anders. Anders and I go way back. Many a wild party was had a Sue's houses and who can forget our epic trip to Puerto Banus in the autumn of 2004? I will miss her terribly.

To say I'm shocked is an understatement and coming on a day in which my anxiety was a bit raised not very easy for me.

Added to that anxiety was picking up a message from my GP surgery asking me to call. Given I just had a blood test my mind went into overdrive. That anxiety again, Dory and I conferred on what it does to us over lunch, we are both only just realising how mental illness is fuelled by that anxiety. I had a lovely afternoon with her though. Of course she was appallingly flirty with the rather vain waiter-no change there then.

Yet I could not shake that fear. Expecting the worst and hoping it didn't wreck my weekend I called. Transpires it was just a clerical error. Oh how the mind winds itself up. Why can't I listen to myself? It is fear of what might happen not what does happen.

So now I'm home watching last night's Cardinals - Vikings game, the fear is in check and I'm ready for the weekend. Still on course for Tuesday and it has been agreed to shorten the day. Tomorrow St Albans awaits. Back on here at the weekend.

I Heard a Voice.

Another Year, Another Defeat.

Well that didn't exactly go to plan, Cambridge lost a very tight Varsity Match 12-6. I have yet to receive any abuse from my old friend Tory from Oxford but I have no doubt it will come by the end of the day. Oxford won for a record 6th year in a row. What has happened to men's sport at Cambridge? Losing rugby and rowing consistently is not what I want to see. It may seem strange but in my 9 years over 3 different periods we never won the Boat Race. The last time we did win was only really brought about by an Oxford rower seeing his blade explode in a clash-no one can win 7 oars to 8. Oh well I suppose there is next year.

In my world it has been a mixed day. I'm still on course for a return but once again I was out of sorts this morning. It's the bad dreams that are impacting. Tense, anxious affairs they make me feel like I haven't slept. It got better though. A nice drive in the country, I dropped into The Horns for the first time in a while. Quite busy for a Thursday lunch time.

It doesn't happen often but today I will have a rare packet meal. Didn't find anything worth cooking in the shop so had to compromise. It never ceases to amaze me just how much sugar, fat and salt are in such meals. But ever once in a while is not too bad.

My mind has turned once again to my mood scale. I did update last week and although I am making progress I'm not sure I have gone into + territory, more around the rather dull 0 mark. Better than it has been I suppose

I can't believe how fast this week has gone. Not long until I have to set the dreaded alarm and take the plunge back into reality. I suspect I may need to negotiate a shorter day but we will see.

See you all next time.

I Heard a Voice.

Shades? In Winter?

For the first 58 minutes of Monday night's Redskins and Cowboys game it was turgid rubbish. I found myself wondering why on earth I had bothered to record it. But that final 2 minutes, what a finish. The upshot of this was that I went to bed far later than I had planned.

When I woke after a series of bad dreams I felt very out of sorts. The gains of yesterday seemed far away. Was I going back into the morass of the last few weeks? Sometimes madness is like that, a good day then a couple of bad. We do get better incrementally and never believe it will ever end until we reach that strange point in the journey where life returns to what passes for normal.

Given that I've not had a walk in some time I thought a brisk mile and half each way into town might help. That low in the sky winter sun brought the shades out of cosy hibernation. The walk was punctuated by a lunch in the Fu Hao with Yang. After that the day began to get more balanced and somewhat better.

Handel and Mozart have been on this afternoon's agenda along with a chat with Beka. Dory will once again visit on Friday. Tomorrow I will find myself watching the Varsity Match from Twickenham for the second year in a row-illness strikes in the same time frame a year apart.

I expect a return of some of my anxiety as the days tick by to my planned return next week. I've had some contact with people there all of whom urge me to only come back if ready. I feel I'm getting there. I have to go back at some point. If not now it won't be until the New Year. Not too far now. 2016, this year has gone so fast.

Back to Handel now so check in later in the week for more musings.

I Heard a Voice.

PS Szechuan twice cooked pork awaits tonight, a good choice!

Lost and Found.

Given how long it took me to get to sleep last night today has been reasonably good. The sun has shone, it's not too cold and I didn't feel as tired as I feared I might. In truth the last couple of days have been fairly busy in the grand scheme of me doing very little for the last few weeks.

My car MOT was due yesterday so I had to get up and get down to Hatfield. With a couple of hours to kill I window shopped and lunched in the Galleria. It was not until I got back in my passed car that I realised I had left my keffiyeh in the restaurant. Those who know me will recall how important keffiyehs are to me in a non political way. No it is not to support the plight of so many in the troubled Middle East but rather a cherished memory of my visit to Jordan in 1997. It was not my Jordanian one so not my most treasured but important enough to go back today.

I had spotted a marvellous coat in a sale as I was perusing but decided against buying it in case the car needed things doing. This time I couldn't resist and managed to get a bargain. Probably not too sensible in the run up to Christmas but as Ros repeatedly tells me and I usually fail to heed to be kind to myself.

Back at home La Finta Semplice has been playing for the last 2 1/2 hours. I will get in the kitchen later to roast some belly pork strips.

Amazingly despite a fairly good day I'm not beating myself up or feeling guilty. Have I finally acknowledged that it is okay to be off when I'm ill? I do hope so. If all goes to plan I intend to go back to work next Tuesday. This is the longest break I have had since I started working. But it was needed. See you soon.

I Heard a Voice.

A Short Intermission.

Hello! How are you all? After my somewhat prolific writings of November on here no doubt you are probably surprised by my days of silence. Or maybe pleased? It was but a brief intermission as I had a friend staying for the weekend.

We had quite a nice time topped off today with rare roast beef at The Waggoners. I think I needed a change. I think I'm inching forwards towards what one might loosely term recovery. But I'm not there yet. Having been told to phone at midnight on Thursday to get an appointment with my GP it was somewhat disappointing to learn there wasn't a single appointment with any GP that day. When I went into the surgery I was informed my GP has no pre bookable appointments until 5th January. Clearly ludicrous. But for once a receptionist helped and sent him a message asking for an extension of the sick note. Assuming that is okay I aim to return on Tuesday 15th. It will only be for a few days but it is a start.

I do however have to move tomorrow as my car is booked in for the MOT. Always a nervous day I hope it is okay.

Back to Sunday though my beloved Mozart has just gone on, the paper is beckoning and I intend to take things really gently. I hope to be back on here some time in the week. Enjoy the rest of Sunday.

I Heard a Voice.

The Scornful Drunk.

Those who read my blog last week will recall that exactly a week ago I had a rather better day but felt terribly guilty for so being. Today has not been a repeat of the former but definitely a repeat of the latter.

It has been a day after a bad night. A lot of dreams most of which were bad. Waking from that makes me feel even more tired, more anxious and think I'm more of a fraud. Many times I have spoken on here of my sense of guilt. Going somewhat stir crazy being home I did go for a drive in the country and stopped off for a drink. Cue more guilt. And with guilt comes the questioning.

Rarely does a day go by, good or bad, on which I did not question with much sincerity whether mental illness exists. Through my journey in the world of the mad most I have met were good people, damaged but good. There have been exceptions and invariably those people were also drunks. Not drunks in the sense that they drink more than they should. No, drunks who reached for the bottle the moment they woke up and were still going the moment they crashed into the uncertain sleep of alcoholism.

I knew a man once who was so angry his psychiatrist described him as an iconoclast. He was due in court for stabbing a man when I first met him. He was deemed fit to plead but he did not go to prison. Not only was he a nasty drunk he was utterly scornful of anyone who he deemed not to be mentally ill. Not so different from shrinks in a way but he was downright nasty. Today I thought of him in my condemnation of my own deluded weakness of pleading madness. Am I for real? Or was he right?

He may no longer be alive. His sidekick who he said was his friend but they fought as drunks do killed himself many years ago. Maybe said man joined him or drank himself to death. The last time I saw him was some time before I moved when he was so drunk at 9 pm the pub kicked him out and he was later arrested for drunk and incapable passed out in the High Street. I wondered what had happened to him in the in between time.

I struggle on today with that wavering belief. Haydn didn't help much even though I enjoy The Creation. Maybe Mozart can save the day, I think Cosi Fan Tutte after supper.

I Heard a Voice.

The Sublime Faure.

It's Tuesday night, it's grey and dull out, I had turkey curry, and another day away from what I expected to be doing a few weeks ago. The medication is kicking my mood in the right direction but stamping down my energy as it is wont to do. But for the first time since this all started I feel I'm doing the right thing. I will pick up, reduce then go back to reality. It is merely a question of how long it will take.

In the meantime I'm listening to a concert that was recorded in King's on St Cecilia's Day to commemorate the life of David Willcocks. I did not know him personally although I saw him up close on a number of occasions. Some would regard the Ledger years of that famous choir to be amongst the weakest in decades. That's when I sang but I cannot be held wholly responsible for that. I suspect we suffered too much from over exuberance and fear to match some of the great incarnations.

The sublime Faure Requiem is currently filling my flat in all its glory. What a wonderful piece of music. Our recording was terrible. Willcocks' is one of the great recordings of this wonderous work.

I was invited to come to the concert live as an ex chorister but felt that as I didn't know him nor had I sung for him a ticket might better serve someone else.

And what of tomorrow? I won't be going back just yet, I plan to go back to GP on Friday and get a little more time. That will allow me to improve but also reduce the dose so I can function favourably.

I Heard a Voice.

Giving up the Ghost.

When I saw my GP the Wednesday before last he asked me to leave my medication on the lower, going to work level, and see if in time I could right myself just by resting. Well I tried but things were so low yesterday I finally gave in and increased them. I slept well but as expected I feel pretty wiped out.

Realising that that route would take longer than the 2 days I have left off sick I went to the surgery with the intention of finding out when I can book an appointment to go back and see him a second time. He's booked out until Friday. So after midnight on Thursday evening I will once again be on the phone.

This is not the outcome I want or expected. It has never gone on this long since the advent of Risperidone in 2001. Lesson learned I suppose is that I need to trust my instinct and experience and increase it earlier. Dad and my friend Heather will both be pleased, each had urged me to take more time. Beka too. Question now is when will the guilt kick in? It has been less evident after getting signed off but I fear it will come back.

I did fill in my mood diary over the weekend. Almost all in the minus range. Yesterday not filled in yet, that was down to -3, the worst it has been in a long time.

We wave goodbye to November today. I will not look back at it with much relish.

I Heard a Voice.

Blustery Advent.

It is Advent Sunday once again. The winds are howling outside so it is not very enticing. I was invited to the pub for a brunch and to watch West Ham but in truth I just want to stay home. The St John's Advent Carol Service is being broadcast on the radio. I have listened to my King's recording as I'm wont to do on this day.

Normally a day I relish today I feel very under par. I have a chicken to roast but no desire to roast it. An evening of the NFL is unappealing but will be indulged in in the absence of any better offers. When will this downturn end? It is now 3 weeks since my sleepless Sunday night sent me down this rocky road to nowhere. Nothing I have done has dented this emptiness. Maybe I should have increased my medication after all. But it is too late now.

In theory I have 2 more long nights of sleep to go before a return. It's hard enough getting up at 11 am let alone 7.30 am. On and on goes this big sleep with no purpose or pattern. I just want to withdraw from the world.

But I must battle on for what else is there? Pay day tomorrow I suppose, I wonder if that will jolt me upwards? In the mean time, sit, read, listen and blot out. Not the makings of a great Sunday.

I Heard a Voice.

Puccini and Indecision.

For the first time in a while I have turned to Puccini for my accompaniment on a dull afternoon. Once again I woke very late as the tiredness dragged me down. I have done very little except some washing and shopping. The last hour has been spent perusing a number of my many cook books to decide what to do with some good chuck steak. I still can't make my mind but suspect I will revert to a curry.

It sums up my day, indecisive, detached and not very interested. Just a day for nothing really, not much worth going out for.

Another day ticks by towards my return. I feel no nearer to being ready for it than the day I saw my GP. When do I make decisions on what next? Leave and give it a go? Or plays safe, follow advice of those who know me well and take longer? Neither is very appealing.

So I listen to Puccini, think and do nothing. It is a nothing kind of a day.

I Heard a Voice.

Under Threatening Skies.

Another day has come and will soon descend into the black of night. They pass so quickly. It seems yesterday that I saw my GP and he ordered me to rest. More than a week on do I feel any better? Not especially. Apathy, lack of motivation, flat mood and endless tiredness still hunts me down.

On this Black Friday I ventured out into a town overwhelmed by dark threatening clouds. The crowds were out but less so than yesterday. Despite what it looked like I stayed dry and spent little. I couldn't find much I either wanted or I needed. Having sales a few days before pay day not always the best idea.

Back at home I have the joys of Eva Cassidy playing and am contemplative. Beka called earlier and she too urged me to take more time. I still have a few days but am very reluctant to extend my absence much longer. Even if I need it.

I still haven't dared do my mood diary for I know what it will look like. Wednesday seemed better but feels an aberration rather than a sign of recovery. Surely by now I should be shaking off the moribund exhaustion? Yet it persists.

So what to make of another weekend? It is my friend Jeny's birthday today and she has invited all The Hedgehog regulars. I will go for a short while but don't really feel in party mode. My friend Karen used to see me as a party animal back in those long lost days when I first moved to Hertfordshire. She had started at the University a few months before me. But she had grown up here so was integrated. I felt utterly lonely so escaped as often as I could to the many parties on offer. I don't get invited to many these days, getting too old for that.

I will leave you with but a single thought, in a month it will all be over and we face that long slow march of winter. Christmas will come and go, then on we go. I may come up for air at Easter after that.

I Heard a Voice.

Where did They All Come From?

There must be something in the air, the town was heaving today. True this country seems to have adopted the American institution that is Black Friday but that is tomorrow. I have no idea where all those people came from but it meant I stayed only a brief time, the anxiety was rising too much.

When I got home and mindful that today is Thanksgiving Day I glanced back at my post for last year. It too was bleak, ill and needing time away. The year before I recall mum before her final deterioration in her mental health doing a lovely turkey dinner when I lived at JB's in Folkestone. For that reason this day always reminds me of her. Even more so than the NFL feast that awaits me tonight.

This Thanksgiving Day I am paying the price for my adventure and over exertion yesterday. It was hard to get up especially after a return of the nightmares. I feel worn out as I write. Work is still popping into my head despite a concious effort not to look at my inbox. My students feel in need but I cannot meet that need at present.

So I content myself and listen to Offenbach. Not sure what I will read, do I start a new book, I brought 2 out or do I read a magazine? Or maybe a cook book. Talking of cooking I did manage to find some turkey to roast, curiously difficult to find. Then let the day pass.

My friend Heather called last night. The jungle drums of my downturn have clearly reached Kent. She urged me to take more time away. I don't think my fragile state will cope with being away that long, too much guilt. We will see I suppose. See you all tomorrow.

I Heard a Voice.

Okay to be Okay?

On a day on which the sun shone through the crisp cold air I ventured out. For the first time in a while I got up a little earlier, felt moderately okay and took a chance on getting the bus to St Albans. It was a good day for it. Did the market, a Moroccan lunch and a return trip to The Lower Red Lion, then caught a bus home whilst still light. Is it okay to feel okay? Can I get through that feeling of being a naughty school boy and bunking off?

The truth is it has been a long time coming. It may lead to a backward step tomorrow but relishing the better days is surely better than decrying what I should have been doing under normal circumstances and beating myself up.

Back at home in the warm I feel rather worn out. A light supper of aloo gobi is on the cards, a rare venture into vegetarian food. Don't those from the Indian subcontinent do good things with vegetables?

An evening of the NFL awaits before the big turn that is Thanksgiving Day tomorrow. There are 3 NFL games on the cards then. I wonder if I could perhaps get a turkey leg to roast to celebrate with our friends from the USA? Hello by the way, you're still bringing in reader numbers each month.

Enough now, more soon.

I Heard a Voice.

The Struggling Pair.

It's dark already out there and the rain has been coming down gently all day. Well at least what I have seen of the day, it was mighty hard to wake up and after some days a little easier it was nearly lunch time when I emerged

Emptiness abounds in the main, not too low, around -1, not too anxious, I don't have a scale for that but I am functioning, but still the exhaustion goes on. It was not a wasted day though as the lovely Dory came to visit and took me to lunch at The White Horse. We only had starters and dessert but it was very good. A chance to catch up, she is really finding life tough too. That I can't get out of bed feeling is very prominent for her too. Even harder as she is a morning person. We both look tired and have little motivation to do much.

I'm still off for another week so no need to panic but I would have hoped there would be an upward shift by now. When will it come?

Despite only a light lunch I really am not hungry and cooking seems beyond me. I have in the main been cooking but not today. Perhaps just a sandwich. The pheasant came out well eventually, I had to put it back in twice as it wasn't cooked. Hugh Fearley-Whittingstall might need to amend his cooking advice, 30 minutes was way too short. I will try to remember for next time.

Tomorrow will be here soon enough. I hope to go to St Albans but not if I'm as tired as I was today. If not it will be another day staring at the TV-not much fun.

I Heard a Voice.

Changing the Record.

Hello everyone, I'm back on another chilly day with not much to entice me outside. Once again I slept longer than I should but managing to get up a bit better each day as I move further away from the chaos that engulfed me recently.

Not fancying going out much I returned to my staples of opera and reading. So far I have heard Verdi's Il Corsaro and Mozart's Apollo et Hyacinthus. The paper has been devoured mainly, just the magazines to go. And now in a complete cultural reversal I have put on a compilation of 80s electronic music. Much of the 80s was a musical desert but there are occasional gems. To my students the 80s are ancient history. To me it was part of sometimes fraught growing up. Opera to electric? That really is changing the record.

I had a lovely evening with my friend Jo yesterday. The chicken pie was delicious, the roast potatoes sublime (far better than I ever do) and roasted carrots glazed in maple syrup amazing. Her anxiety was for nothing. I'm my own worst food critic but can always praise the work of others.

Let's us hope I can match such wonders with my roast pheasant later. Dad is very partial to game and he cooks venison particularly well. I've never actually tried but maybe before the winter is out I will give it a go.

The big sleep will continue next week although I'm hoping to muster up enough energy to make it to St Albans market on Wednesday. Perhaps a nice Moroccan lunch at Little Marrakech. I think Miriam is back from her trip to Vietnam on Wednesday also. Missed talking to her over the last 3 weeks.

Wrap up warm out there and take care until I next post.

I Heard a Voice.

Afternoon Wanderings.

At last the sun has come out. It is bitterly cold out there and my heating came on for the first time yesterday. Still I wake late and feel exhausted. The anxiety dissipates a little with each passing day I just can't cope with little things going wrong. Not really sure about mood, a kind of nothing to -1. I couldn't face the mood diary in the end, maybe tomorrow.

Having been out for short shopping trip I decided to go for a walk then do domestic stuff. The walk was good but bitterly cold. Is this heralding winter? The domesticity will come after this post.

I have been invited to a friend's house for dinner tonight. Jo came to mine a couple of months ago and today is the return match. Chicken pie always goes down a treat. I'm  looking forward to that although for some reason Jo is nervous about cooking for me. I seem to have a reputation for cooking that is far beyond my real ability. I am fearless in the kitchen and usually it works but I am in truth no more than an enthusiastic amateur.

On my walk I saw that the local church has an Advent Carol Service next  week, I might go along to that. Advent is always good.

Then on to another week at home catching up on precious sleep. I need to reduce how much I'm getting if I'm to have any chance of surviving a return the week after. But there is time for that.

Tomorrow there is roast pheasant on the menu, the first game of the season. The butcher had a marvelous 4 rib joint of beef today, at well over £100 it was a bit too much for me. My next beef may have to come from Waitrose. As a sop to my usual decadence though I bought a bottle of Barolo, may have a small glass with my pheasant tomorrow.

See you all soon.

I Heard a Voice.

On Edge.

I had a very late start on another wet and dull day. There were dreams, bad ones about work, but I still couldn't get up. It was lunch time when I emerged. Determined to do some tedious domestic stuff and tax my car. The latter was done fine but when I got home I had a horrible suspicion I had wrecked the washing machine. I'm sure it is fixable but it has set me on edge. Why do little things things become big things when one is not in a normal mental state?

So a shaky afternoon figuratively and physically. Donizetti's opera Roberto Devereux is playing on the radio. I'm trying to read but not getting far. With luck some fine food will improve things for me when the time comes.

I really ought to fill in my mood diary this afternoon although knowing it will be overly in the negative field I'm rather putting it off. Physically seeing how challenging things have been mood wise reinforces the low mood-not so good.

What will tomorrow bring? More rain? More guilt? More exhaustion? I need to be patient and confident that things will lift for me. They always do. Yet I'm impatient for change. Sleep will help but I fear I need more than that. How do I regain what little confidence I have at times like this? I swing from one extreme to the other. And I see it so often in my students yet why can I not follow what I preach? What is it they say "healer, heal thyself"? We make bad patients. I'm missing the governors meeting for the Trust tonight, I simply don't have the energy. Well I suppose they will have to do without me.

Perhaps I will blog tomorrow. I'm sure people are bored of my ramblings when I'm finding the going tough. Stick with me and with time I will get better.

I Heard a Voice.

A Day Later

Pale sunlight illuminated the morning sky here. The storm is over and other than some boxes littered across the car park at the back of my flat little damage has been done. It has all clouded up now but it was nice while it lasted.

I finally managed to see my GP this morning and as expected he told me to take a break. This time for 2 weeks rather than the usual 10 days of past difficulties. The curious thing is is that I'm low but not that low, I'm anxious but not that anxious. It is more a feeling of being completely burnt out. The twins evils of mood and anxiety would I suspect have got worse had I carried on so being ordered to break is probably what I needed. The thorny question we face though as he pointed out was how do we go forward from here? A rest is merely a sticking plaster although admittedly not as severe as ramping up the medication and blowing me aware for a few days. I guess things need looking at when those 2 weeks are up.

In the meantime it gives me time to read, I anticipate completing The Quiet American this afternoon, listen to opera, Lucio Silla at present, and getting on top of the 4 NFL games a week I'm currently recording. But above all it is sleep I crave. So let's find a balance.

My culinary endeavours have slowed down recently but today I will do a lamb shank tagine and tomorrow pork chop with sage, shallots and cider-a little something to look forward to.

I Heard a Voice.

A Winter Storm is Brewing.

As the black of night descends on my part of the world the wind is howling and the rain brewing. Whilst other part of the UK were hit by storms last week where I live is being struck for the first time. Is this the first sign of winter?

My life seems to teeter on the edge of a mental winter. I have tried to work this week but was sent home early today. They told me to take tomorrow off. My musings are decidedly odd at the moment. My thoughts are not raging as they usually do. I feel very heavily medicated despite being on my normal working levels. The plan is to see my GP tomorrow-they tell me he has some slots if I ring after midnight. If he tells me to take time away I will feel like it is a defeat. Can one lose at mental health? After so many years in the main winning when the madness fights back I always feel I have been defeated.

People have been hugely supportive which is great. I never expect that. My friend was laid to rest yesterday. It's not a phrase I use but I'm ashamed to say I do not know whether he was buried or cremated. Just as I feel ashamed it is so many years since I saw him. Another thing to beat myself up over.

Will a rest help? If so can I manage the inevitable mental desert I will face if I max up the pills? That is the swiftest way to right myself. I guess I will see what my Doctor says. He usually lets me decide but he has been known to order me to stop when I wanted to battle on. The fear of how much worse things could get will inevitably guide his guidance. Let us hope I can get a slot.

I Heard a Voice.

A Weekend of Loss.

There is little more I can add to the outpouring of comments, tears and anger following the terrible events in Paris on Friday. Words cannot convey my feelings. I try not to be political on here but the spectacle of war unleashed all those years ago just goes on. In the West here we hear of Paris. Yet in Turkey, Lebanon and of course Syria itself the agony is rarely reported over here. I do not see an end. Nor am I important enough to change anything other than by my humanity, humility and gratitude for being a relatively safe place.

Much closer to home I had a more personal loss. Readers of A Pillar of Impotence may recall several references to my school friend Trapper. When I had my breakdown he simply invited me to stay any time I wanted. Out in the country with his family is was like manna from heaven to get away. As ever I overdid it and found myself separating from that life in mid 1990s just as Trapper was diagnosed with his own terrible illness. I regret not going back in times past. Now it is too late. He succumbed last week to MS after a battle lasting nearly 20 years. Few people I have ever met were as kind, generous and warm hearted as Trapper.

And what of my life on this dull Sunday? Going to dad's was a good plan. I should have gone earlier. Yet as we head towards Monday and what is expected a return to work I remain dog tired, my anxiety is building and my mood is at best apathetic. Back to deciding in the morning I suppose. Let's hope I sleep. The nightmares came back last night. The last thing I need.

May report back tomorrow.

I Heard a Voice.

Glimpsing the Sun.

For a few hours there this morning the day looked brighter. Barely seen the sun physically or mentally for days. When I eventually did emerge after another troubled then extended sleep it was lovely to see that sun. It's all gone now and returned to the dull grey of the recent past.

Having held off all week in the hope of a swift return to reality and normally I have finally conceded that I do need to increase my medication at least for the time being. The nether world of nothing is beckoning. It is a horrible place to be but sometimes a necessary evil to right the un-right.

Not sure how that will impact on my visit to see dad tomorrow. Having made that decision to abandon this week to the greater good I will probably have a less frantic trip down. Sleep will no doubt feature heavily but it will be good to see him in waking moments. With luck by Monday I will be back on track assuming I didn't leave the increase too late. I should really have done it earlier.

When I do get back I will have to arrange someone to come round and fix my door, in danger of being locked out of main part of flat owing to a failed catch mechanism. These things are sent to try us. In the meantime the door remains propped open, colder but safer.

This afternoon I'm once again with Handel, the oratorio Israel in Egypt. It's so gloomy even now I think I need a light on to read. Read and pass the slow hours. Why does time slow down when I'm struggling?

I probably won't post again until I'm back, dad is having some problems with his PC. So see you all in a few days.

I Heard a Voice.

Guilt and Opera.

Is there any way of stopping feeling fraudulent and guilty when one is depressed? My re-entry into that world of low depressed guilt is now in its third day. It has not been quite so grey out today but that empty detached feeling continues. I'm dead tired but sleep remains hard to come by at the right time. People tell me I'm right to stay off when like this yet all I feel is that I'm letting people down and conning them.

Thus far I have resisted the increased medication. Fight on as best I can despite that foolish thought that all around me think I'm making it up. For all those years I lived as that man who did nothing because he was mad. Now I do a lot but not all the time. Is it so wrong to need a few days away? Probably not but all the same it hurts.

To fill my afternoon I'm guiltily listening to Handel's Sosarme, Re Di Media. It seems I'm not alone in my setback, both Dory and Hannah are also battling the same demons at the moment. I must still eat though so I'm braising a ham in cider which I will later stud with  cloves and glaze with demerara sugar and mustard. My appetite diminishes when I'm like this but I usually manage to eat something.

What will tomorrow bring? An upturn I hope. I tried and failed to get a Doctor appointment today, do I try again for tomorrow? Maybe I will feel better. In the meantime I fight the emptiness and slowing of time for I know I will right myself sooner or later. A weekend with dad is looming, a change of scene will be most welcome.

I Heard a Voice.

Day Night Reversal.

Once again on a dull grey autumn day I find myself alone at home. It was another bad night. Almost wrote a post at 4 am. When it got to time to get up I couldn't. So again I abandoned the day and tried to get my precious sleep at the wrong time.

Whilst I made it up earlier than yesterday I'm still flat, detached and anxious. The usual guilt of not working is adding to my anxiety. But what would I achieve if I went in? Tomorrow I'm supposed to be teaching and have done no preparation. I'm not up to doing it now. So do I make a decision on that today on the basis that tomorrow may be bad?

A couple of my most disturbed students over the years have gone into complete day night reversal. I have never gone that far but I feel part the way there now. The question is how do I stop it? In truth I need to make a decision on medication consumption. The right thing to do is increase for a few days but that would sacrifice those days. If so do I empty my mind and enter that pale nether world I fear so much? If I do nothing and things get worse I will be forced into doing that. Not much of a choice is it?

I am lucky that my mental illness is under control most of the time. But when it goes it goes. Am I there yet? I'm on the cusp. In a way I'm surprised it didn't happen before. All the signs have been there. Yet I fought on. Once the sleep is sorted then maybe I will be back in control. May it happen more quickly than I fear.

I Heard a Voice.

Paying the Price.

It is hard for me to describe how much I fear insomnia. Sleeplessness haunted me throughout my illness. That has been countered somewhat since going on Trimipramine 20 years ago on doses so high that most would not wake until the evening. The power of the sedation means I need to reduce the dose in the week to go to work.

You may recall my long sleep yesterday. Although I have been doing better mentally I have been tired. Some days there is a price to pay for sleeping late. Today is one of those. Tormented by insomnia and anxiety I barely slept last night. The biggest indicator of relapse is not sleeping. And so with each passing hour my anxiety grew.

A little after 7 am I gave up the ghost and abandoned the day. I hate taking time away but the levels of anxiety were so great I had to give in. It was no coincidence that my week 1 meltdown came the day after a night of no sleep.

Whether this is a portend of disaster or not I don't know. It has been a day of flat mood, listless thought and a sense of letting people down. And it is so grey out. I don't even feel like eating so have cancelled my planned dinner out with my friend James.

Let us hope tomorrow brings a rising of mood, a lessening of anxiety and an increase in motivation. An aberration of illness is okay to manage as long as it is just that, a passing day in many.

I Heard a Voice.

And Slept On.

God it was hard to get up today. There were many awakenings all of them gentle unlike the smoking days but try as I might I simply couldn't get up. I have no idea why I'm quite so tired today. Is it an accumulations of the stress and angst of such a tough term? It has indeed been tough. But why here and why now? It was gone midday when I finally emerged and I could have quite happily slept another few hours.

As you will recall Sundays are my me time, world go away days. I'm in the company of Figaro today. Is that the most sublime of Mozart's operas? I have a great love of the frivolity of The Magic Flute and the darkness of Don Giovanni. But I love Figaro too.

I realised yesterday that time until Christmas is very limited. In fact I only have a single free weekend between now and then. Miriam is away in Vietnam for the next few weeks but will join us at Christmas. Next weekend I will get on the train to visit dad, can't believe it was July last time I was down there. Must give some thought to presents at some point.

Another week starts tomorrow. On paper it looks calmer than of late. But that could well change. So I will make the most of my Sunday, roast pork, Rioja, a good read and my old friend Figaro.

I Heard a Voice.

Not Exactly Going to Plan.

To say that today has not quite worked out is putting it politely. I was rudely awakened by the Jehovah's Witnesses. Anyone can have a faith but don't push it on me. Dory was brought up a Jehovah's Witness and by God did she pay a price. Her response was somewhat ruder than mine. Forcibly up I was confronted with a foul day of pouring rain and driving wind-not getting the bus in that to St Albans to trudge round and get soaked as I planned. I bought some shopping only to find a tin has a small puncture in it and was leaking beer all over the back of my car. The recycling seems to be minus the can collecting bit so that didn't work out either. And I got soaked.

Despite these minor setbacks I'm actually feeling somewhat upbeat. I don't know why, I just am. I managed to get some nice braising steak from the butcher to have beef bourguignon, some shoulder of pork for tomorrow and some good chipolatas. I don't eat sausages often so it will make a change.

Not sure now whether to listen to opera or just chill with the TV. I suspect the latter will be what I end up doing. A nice cup of Earl Grey tea will not go amiss. Then on to cook.

Much to my surprise the sun has just emerged from behind the dark clouds and we almost have some day light. Hurrah. Until tomorrow .

I Heard a Voice.

The March of Time.

A picture popped up on my Facebook feed last night. It was taken in 2011 and showed me signing copies of A Pillar of Impotence at the launch event in Kent as part of Folkestone Book Festival. I'm struggling to come to terms with how fast it has gone. I certainly look younger and slimmer in the photo. It was a glorious night 4 years ago to the day. Not just for celebrating the end of my long quest to be published. But there was another more significant moment that night. I saw my mum smile. And I knew at the moment that after years of conflict we had made peace. She died suddenly 4 months later.

Cast your mind back to that time on this blog. They were hard tough times. I was just emerging from a significant relapse that had set me back. I was close to completing Charon's Ferry and suddenly my world changed forever. I cannot halt the march of time but I still remember.

I probably should have typed this post then. But I was out with Dory at the Fu Hao. We'd not seen each other since my birthday so lots to catch up on. We have both been struggling. But I'm still afloat.

Finally had a meeting on clarification on what has been going so wrong for me in recent months. The proof may or may not come to light in the next few weeks but it went better than I anticipated. Tomorrow I get to teach some psychiatrists. Aside from my usual fears about having enough material I'm quite looking forward to it.

I Heard a Voice.

Falling Leaves.

There's another gloriously sunny autumn day out there. It is true we have had some very wet days on and off this fall but the sun has popped out more than a few times. We enter November today, a month I associate with damp and cold. The pavements are littered with golden and red tree detritus, the fall as our American friends call it is well under way. In a month the bitter cold of December will hit us.

Time is going quickly. We have another 7 weeks of term. After the storm of the start not much has slowed down but I am still standing. It did not seem very likely to happen in those first few days. The frenetic pace is still not slowing. It has become a battle of endurance, a mental health stalemate during which I'm sort of holding back the onslaught but am in no way winning the battle.

And thus my Sundays remain so vital to me. I'm continuing my Haydn theme of recent weeks. Today's offering is L'Infedelta Delusa. Unfortunately there is a scratch on the second CD so had an unholy interruption. After that I will watch the Chiefs and Lions at Wembley. Hard to believe it was but a week ago I sat in that vast stadium.

I have a small chicken to roast for my dinner. I will fill the cavity with organic thyme and half a lemon. Then in but a little while it will be bed time again and this week's marathon commences. Did I ever envisage life would be like this in the days when I didn't work? There was a time when just getting a job would closed the circle and I would be healed. An optimism that seems so hollow now. But I do work and I no longer define myself as mentally ill. It is merely a part of me today.

I Heard a Voice.

Why Now?

Some years ago my great friend and former supervisor Jacek wrote in a reference for me that I was "a one man CMHT and crisis team all rolled into one." I arrived at the University with a mix of anxiety, trepidation, excitement, ambition, confidence and fear in 2007. From that moment on a significant number of crises landed on my desk to sort out. Someone had to sort them and mostly during the day it was me. With the exception of the extraordinary Geri who did far more than me that was the expectation. A lot was laid at my door and most of the time I sorted it.

After some years of this and realising I was doing all the dirty work and getting paid very little for it I challenged the status quo on exactly why this was. My then  manager failed to back me as she thought it would damage her pet friends. Ever since have been trying to leave.

Suddenly all these years later a crisis happens on a day I'm not in and all hell break loose. We must have a flow chart, a plan, a safe working policy, we must not take risks. All well and good but if as we have found we cannot rely on others to deal with it for us what exactly do we do?

Much of this I explored in my MSc work. That was seen by far more important people than me but ignored. It brings me no joy to realise I had been right all along. I do not know what the outcome of all this will be but what I do know is all my work over the last 8 years will not help me at all. Still in the same boat. And who will be called out when shit and fan collide? I think you know the answer to that. I've been doing it a long time.

I Heard a Voice.

Nearly There.

As I write on a non descript October evening after such a wet day I am but a single hit away from 30,000 views since I started writing this blog. I feel quite pleased with that. Some 5 years have passed since I began to share my life with this anonymous world out there. And it is anonymous, comments are rare on here although part of that I'm told is the Blogger requires you to register to comment and it is complicated. Given that figures are often buoyant and I get private comments I intend to continue on this journey to nowhere.

This October evening finds me listening to Haydn, sipping a beer and wondering what to read. I missed my opera Sunday but did do some on Saturday. Wednesdays are good days for that as I have little else to distract me.

In the working world I'm still dealing with the fall out of recent events. To say it has been frenetic is an understatement. The pace has not slackened nor the complexity and risk reduced. But I'm back on track I think. I do fear another meltdown but on a day to day, hour to hour basis I am coping better.

How much of a price I pay is anyone's guess. This pace cannot be maintained indefinitely. Something has to give sometime. But until that happens I have to keep going.

What I do know is that contrary to what I feared I'm not going to have to work until lunch time on Christmas Eve so can go and see dad, Miriam and Nigel. I'm really hoping Beka and her mum can come too and we can cook a fine goose as we did 3 years ago. Lots to think of then and to look forward to. And I don't have the looming spectre of MSc work or books to write.

I Heard a Voice.

Exalted Heights.

Ever been afraid of heights? For the last 20 years following an incident in Portsmouth in the days when I did not make the most sensible of choices heights have scared the hell out of me. Driving over the QEII bridge to see dad never ceases to trouble me. I can't lean over or look over balconies. Avid readers may recall my terrifying experience at the Royal Albert Hall a couple of years ago.

So it was with some trepidation that I headed to Wembley Stadium to watch the Buffalo Bills play the Jacksonville Jaguars having been offered tickets from a friend of a friend. And of course the prophesy came true. We were right up in the heights of this vast 90,000 seat stadium. It troubled me but as it filled up my anxiety slowly dissipated and by about the end of the 1st quarter I was calm.

What a wonderful day. Jacksonville have played here each of the last 3 years and rumours circulate that at some date to be decided they will move to London on a permanent basis. Whilst the stadium was awash with a colours of all NFL teams the home crowd was rooting for the Jaguars. I'm told that has never happened before. And what a finish. Nigel and I had left at that point hoping to beat the crowds but it was another great NFL success over here. And my very first live real NFL game.

All that left me somewhat tired today. But in the main it was calm. We had a mini farmers market on campus today. Organic vegetables, cheese and pie stalls and our regular organic baker. It's really taking off. I left with potatoes-which are excellent-fennel and thyme. I hope it continues. And to add to my day I saw the splendid sight of a student wearing a Union Jack Hijab. I never expected that.

Of course I did not get through the day unscathed, stopped on my way out and anticipating problems tomorrow. But that is tomorrow. Here at home I had a beautiful lamb chop, said roast potatoes and vegetables with mint sauce and a small glass of Rioja. All very civilised. See you all again soon.

I Heard a Voice.

Roast? On a Saturday?

Greetings my friends out there in blogland. How are you all? It's been a rather grey and occasionally wet day here in Hertfordshire. Not much different today, shopping, domesticity and a little TV. It's not really been a day to be out and about. I didn't even go to the pub.

Yet today is different. For today I'm roasting a fine dinner. Rolled and stuffed belly pork is roasting away on a bed of sage and rosemary. Sunday has come early. There is a marvellous smell coming from the kitchen. My neighbour will be joining me and will bring a bottle of Rioja. I suspect it may well be an opera night, Haydn today I think.

The reason for Sunday on Saturday is that tomorrow I will catch the 10.52 am from the station meeting Nigel on the train then on to Wembley. Nearly 20 years since I was last there and nearer 30 years since I saw American football there finally I will see a live, real regular season game. That's a long time to wait. Neither team is particularly interesting, the mediocre Buffalo Bills and the inept Jacksonville Jaguars. But whatever the quality I intend to enjoy the day.

After the week that was, another difficult one I'm relieved to be off if only for the weekend. I'm holding my own and not as overwhelmed as I was a few weeks ago but life still seems precarious. I did my mood diary in the week, erratic and mainly low is not so good. Yet the fight goes on. A day at a time, and on the bad days an hour at a time. We will get there sometime.

I Heard a Voice.

The Soothsayer?

As a child I loved the French cartoon Asterix books. The story of Gaul warrior living in a village with his friend Obelix holding out against the mighty Roman empire thanks to the local Druid Getafix's magic potion. A later book in the series was entitled Asterix and the Soothsayer. The men who predicted the future examining the entrails of sacrificed animals.

I'm often to be heard saying to students that I cannot predict the future. But sometimes I can and I do not examine entrails to do so. And I'm usually right.

If you read yesterday's post you will recall I expected a Mental Health Act assessment. I've been around too long not to know what will happen. The frustrating thing is though that those that should know better chose not to trust my judgement. I called for the assessment this morning. I was passed from pillar to post, everyone passed the buck and then eventually sense prevailed and I was proved right. Shame it took another 5 hours for those with the real power to come to the same conclusion. Sadly it is often thus.

I do not like these days. Not just because I get home late, I'm worn out and slightly irritated that I'm not trusted. A young man may be deprived of his liberty for a while. That is a heavy burden to hold. Yet I know I had to make that call.

I Heard a Voice.

It's the Way You Say It.

Talking to people does not need to be taxing. Even saying things people don't want to hear is manageable if done the right way. I suppose really my job is all about talking. What is there in mental health but talking and pills? I don't always get it right but do find it hard when others come across in a very rude way and or aggressive way that is completely unnecessary. That has happened to me twice in the last 2 days.

I had a valued opportunity to teach yesterday. Although I failed at teaching as a career I do sometimes get wheeled out at the University to impart my somewhat extensive knowledge of mental health. On this occasion it was a 3 hours-very long-session to clinical psychology doctorate students a group I've not worked with before. I was really pleased with how it went and most of them seemed to find it helpful. Then as I was leaving a overheard a somewhat sneering comment from one of the students dismissing me entirely. Curious thing is that had she mentioned it in the session I could have cleared up what was just a misunderstanding. But there you go, we can't please everyone. That said it is a little bit of a worry in this field. Left a bad taste.

This morning I had to guide an international student through the joys of the bus system to show her where to attend hospital appointments. She had never used a bus in England. I had never used that bus company or that route. Sadly the first bus driver erroneously gave me the wrong ticket. Not knowing any different I presented my return ticket on the bus back to be confronted by arrogant hostility and an implication that I was trying to defraud the bus company. The driver was equally aggressive and hostile to my anxious student. All it takes is a simple few words rather than hostility. Of course what the driver didn't know is that I know the managing director of the bus company personally. The question is do I send that e mail or put it down to experience?

On top of that there is a crisis brewing tomorrow that I suspect will at some point end in a Mental Health Act Assessment.

Yet to kinder things. The TV is off, opera is on and I'm delving further into Graham Greene. I'm enjoying The Quiet American more than I did Brighton Rock. Easier to read too. A little break before the chaos starts again tomorrow. See you then.

I Heard a Voice.

A Good Review?

Greetings all from a rather grey Hertfordshire. Not the most delightful of days but at least I didn't get wet. It is Saturday again, a day for shopping, lunching and domestic tedium. Saw Yang for lunch at the Fu Hao, small plate of Singapore noodles and a Tsing Tao. I was very restrained in my shopping and came home merely with what I needed. The washing is now done, the bathroom too and cleared some of the backlog. It is sadly thus on Saturdays. Time to sit back, make Vietnamese pho for supper then an episode of Inspector Morse I think.

I was reading a piece in the paper the other day about authors who manipulate Amazon bestseller lists by paying people to write favourable reviews. Miriam attended a creative writing course some time ago in which she was told getting 10 Amazon reviews or more was the key to selling books. Well I have 15 5* reviews for A Pillar of Impotence and 12 5* reviews for Charon's Ferry none of which were paid for. I can't imagine anything more absurd. Yet my sales remain modest. The fate of an unknown. Each sale is a little triumph.

With luck I will sleep well. Sarah the Kiwi is coming to visit tomorrow so I've booked us a table at The Waggoners for some indulgent roast beef and horseradish. Beka will miss out! Hope to see you all in the week.

I Heard a Voice.

Staying Detached.

As a young man I rarely spoke to anyone about important stuff. Young men didn't. For the whole of my first year of an as yet unnamed illness I struggled on in silence. I feared people would not take me seriously, that they'd say I was stressed. When I did talk after my breakdown they didn't take me seriously. It was not until I met my Buddhist friend that I began to talk and then it took a long time.

When I did start to talk I only wanted wise counsel. I had my own wise counsellors and they were rarely people paid to provide wise counsel. I still have many of them today, I just don't talk to them as often.

Last week I had the same wise counsel from 2 men I consider wise. Stay detached and it is only a job. But as I say to all my students it is easier to advise others than it is to advise ourselves. Coming home I'm struggling to heed that advice. I'm not sure I provided any wise counsel today. And I came home with it all running round my head. When will it stop? Must get back to learning to be me when I'm home.

So at home I consoled myself with a fiery Vietnamese beef salad which was very good and am looking forward to the cricket highlights. Not that there were many for England, all Pakistan today.

Tomorrow is another day, maybe I will do some good.

I Heard a Voice.

Much Needed Sleep.

Sunday is here again. My need for sleep must have caught up with me as I didn't wake up until midday. A sign I suppose that I have been overdoing things. Curiously enough this is the first Sunday for a while in which I have not felt anxious from the moment I opened my eyes.

As promised yesterday Beethoven's Fidelio is my afternoon accompaniment. I put off my roast beef until tonight and made do with cold chicken...very good...and salad. It's not great going straight into full cooking mode as soon as I'm up.

Once the opera is complete I must go for a walk. I have been neglecting my walking the last couple of weeks. It's quite hard ascertaining my mood at the moment. I haven't written down my mood scale since term started-too scared perhaps of a low pattern emerging that may spell trouble. That said I do not feel so burned out today. It is just another Sunday on which I indulge my cultural pursuits in the afternoon and my passion for American football in the evening. Now I think it is time for a little reading. Bye for now.

I Heard a Voice.

Don't Wear Red.

Those you who know me will recall that most of the time I'm attired in Levi jeans and a rugby shirt. I do dress up on occasions but the nature of my job sometimes getting down and dirty precludes me dressing up often. When I got up today with the intention of going to meet my friend Katherine in China Town I donned said Levi jeans and my red Ralph Lauren rugby shirt.

I wasn't overly enthused by the rugby world cup even before England's dismal performance so had no knowledge or interest in the fact that Wales are playing today. On the train I was surrounded by red clad Wales supporters and it was only a matter of time before so one assumed I was in the throng. I was not. I have never been confused for a Welshman until today. My only connection with Wales is that Miriam studied in Cardiff. I couldn't care less about either game, it has been that bad.

Welsh confusion aside I had a lovely afternoon with Katherine. We tried a different restaurant today, a place recommended by my Caymanian friend Lisa. It was very good but not quite what we planned for our occasional meeting. I had forgotten the Chinese love of meat on the bone and soon realised my chopstick skills weren't really up to little bits of bony chicken in the hotpot. Not to either of our taste. The ribs were outstanding but not quite what I wanted. The belly pork was to die for.

After lunch I spent a fortune on opera, Verdi, Beethoven and Purcell. That's my next 3 Sundays organised then. Tomorrow will be Beethoven's Fidelio - never heard it before. And rare roast beef. I splashed out on forerib, how divine is that?

Enjoy your weekend. More tomorrow.

I Heard a Voice.

Men Behaving Badly.

I never watched the 1990s sitcom Men Behaving Badly. It was something of a cult series. At that time in my life I was extremely isolated and long departed from the decadent days of Cambridge before my breakdown. The great Bernie Rosen once asked me if I had lost all my friends. My affirmative response elicited him to say "it is inevitable". Well I got them back again.

Last night in The Windsor Castle pub in Marylebone those men of Cambridge met once again and behaved badly. What a night. I was laughing so much at one point tears were streaming down my face. I cannot believe not only how badly behaved we were in those days but also that this collection of highly paid....except me....professional men could slip so easily back into that puerile world. But by God it was fun.

I look forward to our next adventure as I marvel at how far I have come and how I have resurrected important relationships even if it is just a couple of nights a year. I have good friends.

I Heard a Voice.

Disgraced.

On Wednesday an 83 year old man called Peter Ball was jailed for nearly 3 years for his history of sexual activities with young men. Peter Ball is a twin, a monk and an ex bishop. He and his twin Michael made eccentric media figures in the 1980s, twin bishops.

I knew him as Father Peter in the 1980s. An old boy of my old school he used to visit from time to time to provide spiritual guidance to young men at a public school. I do not know anyone who was abused by him. What I recall is a gentle and kindly old man who looked odd in his monk's habit.

In the early 1990s after he had moved from the Bishopric of Lewes to that of Gloucester, Peter Ball's proclivities were unmasked. He admitted a charge and caution and resigned. The comment of the former Headmaster of Lancing at the time was "we did all warn him". He fled public life in his disgrace.

It took the Jimmy Savile scandal of the last few years for the truth to come out. Father Peter was a serial offender. Oh how the world has changed from that moment on. Some claim many of the allegations against high profile people are attention seeking and money grabbing. Some of it was true.

If his activities were known to my old school Headmaster why on earth did they ever let him into the school? These questions burn like beacon in the post Savile days. But that was what went on in decades past. Peter Ball is the 3rd OL I know who was sent to jail for sexual activities with children; doesn't sound great does it? At least 2 teachers have also been quietly pensioned off too to my knowledge.

My career in mental health has been littered with the victims of such men, if only they knew. Or do they not care? One of Peter Ball's victims killed himself in 2012.

I Heard a Voice.

A Modicum of Vindication.

Making it in this morning took all the emotional strength I could muster. Limbs wouldn't move, mind remained stuck, emotion was all encompassing. Curious after a few better days. Yet in the face of the rains of autumn and the slate grey sky I almost gave up and retreated into the world of chemically induced sleep. But I didn't.

Somehow, and I don't know how, I made it in and for much of the day I floundered. I have lost all belief, I'm confused, I'm torn in different directions and though someone finally hearing my many fears last week nothing concrete has changed. That terrible fear of burn out lies over me. I had almost forgotten what I do well.

Then something changed. I connected, I talked, I made sense and I made some of those amazing breakthroughs that remind me at least temporarily that if left to do what I do best I am pretty good at what I do. So my fears have abated a little, my anxiety lessened and mood not slumping.

Back at home I have had enough of TV so have returned to my love of opera and reading. I must make a start on The Quiet American which came out of the book cupboard several weeks ago but has sat resolutely unopened on my sofa ever since. The opera is La Finta Giardiniera, I noted listening to it on here some months ago.

My eye has been distracted by flashing lights in the car park behind my flat. Not sure why but there is a fire engine out there but no sign of fire. I do hope nothing untoward has happened.

As for tomorrow I need more energy than today. Otherwise the occasional sense of doom that creeps over me from time to time may amplify just a little. The question is how do I stave it off? I don't know at this precise point. But I'm still standing, still loving Mozart and still can make it through to the end of the week.

I Heard a Voice.

The Recovery Conundrum.

Way back in 1996 as I lived severe mental illness I met a man called Ian. He did a talk at my local day hospital about education and mental health. That building epitomised the moribund stuckness of my life as a madman. Allegedly a high intensity therapeutic environment in which we would all be cured and sent back to marvels of reality with new life skills. I stayed 8 years and learned nothing. Yet on that evening in October 1996 Ian convinced me that there was merit in education and that it might help me get somewhere other than the awful place I inhabited at the time.

Open Door as he called it began life as a pilot scheme in the spring of 1997 with the express purpose of getting those of us with severe and enduring mental health problems back into mainstream education. As a graduate of Open Door I went on to study A level Philosophy, the PGCE in History at Cambridge and finally back to work with Ian. Education was vital for getting started on recovery; Risperidone did the rest. Of course not everyone was as successful as me. Many progressed so far, it helped in their mental health but did not allow them back into what society deemed relevant; work and paying taxes.

My journey took me in 2007 to the University where I found the Centre for Mental Health Recovery and the Hertfordshire Annual Recovery Conference. In 2008 I presented a workshop to 60 people on employment and mental health; it was a triumph. Yet we still lacked something. And that something is how do we measure outcome? Outcome is in the eye of the beholder. And the beholder realistically is the funder.

Today I attended the 9th Annual Conference. Theme this year was education. A key part is so called Recovery Colleges. Yes I heard inspirational speakers. Yes I met many friends and collaborators. But I could not help thinking that we are merely recreating what we did in the 1990s and those mixed results that brought. Open Door no longer exists. I suspect cuts came as a result of only anecdotal evidence and testimony. The most telling statistic today was that of 385 attending such a college in Yorkshire only 7 had found paid work. I truly believe that recovery is not all about work, conformity and convention. But I'm not funding it so what I think is irrelevant. We must judge our own recovery but society will also judge us.

It made me feel quite sad really. We are driven by the money trail. What I call the Tripos holds true, the complex relationship between the system, the workers and the money. For without each other nothing in mental health would exist but illness.

A friend described Charon's Ferry as being s very bleak book. As she put it "I didn't realise being well could be so difficult". We all want a magic solution. I found one in Risperidone. But then I had to find my place in society. A society from which I hid and it hid from me for all those years. Food for thought I guess.

I Heard a Voice.

Misty Mornings.

A few days have now passed since my meltdown. Thursday was indeed a calm evening. On Friday morning I saw the autumnal mists rising over the River Mimram as I drove in. A fine sight. It was another day of chaos but I coped and came home relieved it was all over for another week.

This weekend has been devoted to cooking. A pork chop roasted on a bed of fennel with crushed new potatoes dressed in rapeseed oil and lemon zest was last night's effort. Today I roasted a rack of lamb. Both efforts were splendid.

In contrast to the last few Sundays I am not anxious. Not I fear because I'm coping better but more that tomorrow is a conference rather than office day. I'm hoping that extra 24 hours away from the chaos will aid my recovery.

This afternoon I'm watching the Jets - Dolphins game at Wembley. Not the most inspiring game I've ever seen but great to have the NFL back in the UK. I'm working on getting tickets for Nigel and me to go to the next game at the end of October.

I can't quite work out where I am mentally. It is not so much that I have been depressed this week. More that sense of feeling so pressured I couldn't cope. Anxious yes, depressed maybe. Where will I be tomorrow? Anxious I expect. But now, I'm okay. See you soon.

I Heard a Voice.

In the Eye of the Hurricane?

They say that it is calm in the eye of the hurricane. Today feels finally like the eye of an epic storm that his simply engulfed me and others this week. You will recall from my last post how difficult it is to be powerless in the face of a crisis. You will also recall my long recorded fears that I was simply not energised or stable or anxiety free enough to meet the demands of the new academic year. Well it got worse.

On Tuesday with the bullets flying and being completely out of control I lost it and went into meltdown. Once upon a time I walked out on a job after I was asked to fake some paperwork. For very different reasons I got to that point again that afternoon. Not sleeping at all the night before probably precipitated this meltdown.

A series of emergency meetings and the offer to take time out ensued yesterday but I chose to fight on. Now at home after a day that has been like a mill pond compared to earlier maybe for one night only my ship lies at anchor in the eye of the storm.

Given what is in the media a meltdown in young people's mental health services we and other universities are reaping the whirlwind created beyond our control. Universities are now facing an epidemic of mental health crises.

I fear for tomorrow but at least today I feel okay. I will have a nice dinner, read and try to enjoy the peace. It may not last long.

I Heard a Voice.

Powerless, a Fortuitous Break.

Day 1 is over. Much of it went without incident but of course the unexpected happened. A long time ago, back when I first started my friend Kym told me that I had all the responsibility in my job but with absolutely no power. And God has she been proven right over the years.

So today, late on I was confronted by a real problem but absolutely no power to do anything about it. In years past I had a fall back plan, my great friend Geri. Now in another job but still around I have worried for months what would I do when shit and fan collided and I have no power to do anything.

All was not lost as purely by chance I bumped into Geri. I've not seen her for weeks. Within an hour she had sorted it. I wonder what I will do next when she is not around.

I held my own today until late then that anxiety that has been lingering for some time came back. Still in the dark and receiving contradictory messages I can only see this state continuing. A year ago I was short listed for an award for innovation in my work on student support integration. Now what I predicted appears to have come to pass. And I'm stuck in the middle. More will be known on Wednesday but I'm not optimistic about an outcome that helps me.

On the plus side I have a tagine bubbling away, that will fill me up tomorrow. And now back to Detroit and Denver from last night. The season is in full swing and taking up far too much of my time.

I Heard a Voice.

A Kitchen Let Down.

Sunday is here again. The sun is shining although I've not really been out to enjoy it. Idomeneo accompanied by cooking. The music was beautiful, the lamb not my best. I do so dislike overcooking things. Hoping for medium rare it looked hopeful as it rested but sadly disappointed, not much sign of pink and pretty tough. Perhaps that's the price I pay for using Waitrose rather than the butcher.

The latest rugby World Cup match is on. After England's surprise defeat at home yesterday the faithful must all be reeling. How on earth did we blow that lead? I would hazard a guess that that has to rank up there with Wales' greatest ever victories. No gloating from Miriam-her attending Cardiff University seems to have given her an affinity to the Welsh. Given the number of rugby fans at work some comment is inevitable tomorrow.

Tomorrow, yes, the weekend has gone all too quickly. The real onslaught starts tomorrow for me. Not sure if anything has happened over the weekend but no doubt I will be the first port of call if incident happened.

I feel a bit flat today. Hovering in that no man's land of 0 on my scale. My anxiety starts to grow from the moment I wake up on a Sunday. Am I ready for what is to come? I don't feel very ready.

I'm not sure when I will next be on here. I anticipate exhaustion in a abundance in the week from now on for several months. But I will try to at least catch up on here. Bye.

I Heard a Voice.

A Country Lunch.

My apologies for my recent silence. It is nearly a week since I was last on here. In truth this week has been so up and down I haven't really felt like communicating much. Once again I find myself pulled in 3 different directions and a mass of contradiction. All of which led to me feeling pretty ordinary to put it politely.

Yet now it is the weekend. I had a marvellous start as Beka came to visit. She had to take some more shots for her portrait commission so asked if she could stay again. Dinner at Hakalok followed by a couple of pints in The Hedgehog was great. Today as the sun shone we took a ride out into the country for a bite of lunch at The White Horse at Burnham Green. We had a pint there last time she visited but I've never eaten there. It was a revelation, duck confit terrine followed by a great wood pigeon salad. How has it taken me this long to finally eat there?

I've eaten out a lot this week with mixed results. On Tuesday I had an extremely expensive and quite frankly dreadful dinner at the highly rated Wellington at Welwyn. It was so awful I'm tempted for the first time to take out my ire on TripAdvisor. I've never seen fit to write on there before. My experience of The Wellington since I moved here has been very mixed. I will not go back again.

Leg of lamb is on tomorrow's menu, nicely pink in the middle I hope. Bought a nice bottle of Chianti to go with it. After that let us pray for a better week.

I Heard a Voice.

Not Cutting the Mustard.

I'm not sure where the phrase "cutting the mustard" comes from. I would like to say it is English but given the love our American friends across the sea have for hot dogs and mustard I suspect it may come from our colonial cousins. In the folly of my youth I rarely ate hot things. For years I swore I detested horseradish and English mustard. I simply didn't understand why anyone would want to sully beautiful roast beef and ham with such vile condiments.

Now, having just turned 46 I have corrected the youthful errors of my former years and wholeheartedly endorse the embellishment brought to Sunday lunch by horseradish and English mustard. Today it was ham and very good it was too.

On my post lunch Sunday walk I took a little detour to admire the local manor house, see cricket being played in glorious autumn sunshine, some young people with an American football and the local church. After my detour I took the slightly shortened route home and popped in the pub. It must have been a busy week as we have drunk them out of Doombar already and the dray doesn't come until Tuesday.

Back at home I'm listening to Handel's Coronation Anthems. Not the rather overexcited and sharp recording of my youth under Philip Ledger but a later and superior recording under Stephen Cleobury. I cannot really not mention King's now given that David Willcocks the director of music prior to Ledger died this week. I saw him a few times but never actually met him.

Other than I'm just reeling from a weekend of sporting shocks. If anyone ever failed to cut the mustard it has to the Springboks rugby team utterly humiliated by Japan yesterday in the World Cup. It is surely the greatest upset rugby has ever seen. And what about West Ham going away to Manchester City and coming about with a 2-1 victory? By contrast my Rams are surely favourites tonight against the Redskins.

Of course the Rams are not on TV-they rarely are. But I have 3 others games to entertain me though. See you all in the week.

I Heard a Voice.

Tea and Cake.

Hello, how are you all? Where has the sun gone? It has been lovely all day but gone all grey now. You find me at home with West Ham on the TV, a DVD to watch later, dinner to heat up and not much else.

In truth I set out to do very little today. My day started far too early after 3 anxious/bad dreams in the space of 3 1/2 hours. After the third I gave up. I did my usual Saturday trip to town to shop a little and look round. Then a nice bar lunch at The Waggoners. Back at home I called a couple of people, neither were in then just caught up on the Broncos - Chiefs game from Thursday night-what a disastrous ending for the Chiefs.

It has been such a day of little or nothing perhaps the highlight was stopping for tea and cake. Lapsang Souchong today along with some lovely sultana and cherry cake. I felt quaintly English doing that. Where would we English be without tea? Actually I only really drink a cup a day, always when I get home from work and a little earlier at the weekend.

All my friends are off on a charity walk tomorrow so it will be another quiet one. I do have some gammon to roast but no one to share it with. I'm not a big walker of distance so am supporting by hurling money in the pot. It is all in memory of our dear friend Jeff who died on New Year's Eve 2013 after battling leukaemia for some years. I do miss him so.

The weeks are moving fast until D Day for me. It all goes off on 28th. Given that in 3 of the 8 years I have been at the University a student has been sectioned in week 1 I always anticipate a bumpy start. Let us hope it is gentler this year. I'll see you all in the week.

I Heard a Voice.

Rainy Days and Stock Days.

It is properly autumnal out there today. The rain has been coming down all day although the gales promised have not reached here. I too remain under the weather and stayed home once again. Although I'm hungry I neither desire nor want to risk eating at this stage of proceedings. Might chance a sandwich later, I have just demolished the chicken carcass so that might suffice. Having had chicken it is now a stock day as it bubbles away furiously on my hob. Despite the delicious smell I still have no desire to eat.

I'm listening to the astonishing voice of Karen Carpenter to pass the time on this dull and ill day. What a voice and what a tragedy. When I meet students with eating disorders they always make me so nervous. The tragedy of losing a student to an eating disorder still hurts nearly 5 years on from then. I don't actually see very many of them and often the eating is a symptom of more complex personality type problems. Yes I remain sceptical of such a damning diagnosis but each year the number of students for whom that diagnosis is apt keeps rising. Last year they represented nearly 25% of my case load.

Why am I musing on work when I'm home unwell? I really should leave it for another day. With luck I will be sufficiently recovered to make that day tomorrow. Until then.

I Heard a Voice.

A Gentler Age?

My love of Rick Stein's cookery programmes and books is well known on here. Of the all the many series-I've seen each episode at least 15 times-the ones I love most are the Food Heroes series. Championing small producers, artisan makers and the wonderfully diverse food in this sceptred isle it brings back a thoughts of happier, simpler and more gentle times. The first series filmed in 2002 is being repeated this week. A warm glow of olden days which are now 13 years ago.

But were they so good and gentle? We were a year on from 9/11. War was upon us all. The British countryside was ravaged by the foot and mouth outbreak. And I was in desperate need of a job. I came off benefits late that year as I finally found a pair of part time jobs that actually paid a small amount to live on. It would be another 9 months before I finally found a full time job and moved out.

It is good to recall the finer memories of that struggle. I loved living at JB's. I started writing A Pillar of Impotence. I cooked and cooked and cooked. Yet it was never enough. I was always driven to do more, try harder and run faster to escape my past.

Now all these years later I find myself in another world. I never escaped my past and remain at times unhappy in my present. Why am I never content and satisfied? Will I find that some day? I don't know.

But back to today I have not been at my best. Feeling nauseous all day I have barely eaten. It has the feel of last night's dinner not being quite right. Let's hope for better feeling tomorrow.

I Heard a Voice.