A Dusting of Snow.

The last time I saw snow was during the bitter winter on 2012-2013. That winter we had 4 significant downfalls here that seriously disrupted my work life given that I live on a steep hill that it utterly treacherous when the snow and ice come. We had nothing last year.

All change last night with a light dusting of snow. It settled but was gone by morning. Other parts of the country have had much heavier falls. I say keep it light.

So another week is over. After a challenging start it was okay. I was paid today-always good. But there was reason for celebration yesterday when I realised that I had managed to get to the end of the month in credit for the first time since I left Kent. I now have no debts at all. A huge relief. I'm hoping now I can save a little from time to time.

I will get the train to Miriam's tomorrow via Cambridge. We will attend the Ely Beer Festival on Saturday then on Sunday night I settle down with Nigel for the clash of the titans that will be this year's Super Bowl. I cannot call a clash of 2 heavy weight teams although my desire and suspicion is for a Seattle win.

No return to reality until Tuesday. That in itself has to be good. This is my last January post, see you all in February.

I Heard a Voice

Gentle Music, a Beer and a Waiting Game

Wednesday night. Half way through the week. After the challenges of Friday and Monday the last couple of days have been relatively smooth. Well at least at work. The domestic challenges of still waiting for the plumber and desperately missing my cleaner go on.

So I have settled for some gentle music on the radio, Berlioz is on, a beer and a little catch up with my on line friends.

There really isn't much to report. My mood is defiantly neutral. Cooking has been limited owing to expected calls from plumbers but good old English fry up in duck fat is a nice compromise. He promises he will come tomorrow.

I had an e mail from Dory today. It has been an age since we met and she is missing me. Me too. Maybe we can coincide our lives to meet next week. Working can put a serious dent in social plans. But we all have to do it. Sorry if this post is boring but it does happen sometimes in my life. See you soon.

I Heard a Voice.

Ploughing a Lonely Furrow.

The nature of my job sometimes is that I am out there at the coalface, usually alone, making decisions that can be critical to the the interests of the students I help and those of the wider institution. When the shit hit the fan I have to deal with it, make safe decisions and deal with the consequences afterwards. I rarely ask for help as with the exception of my friend Geraldine there is not often anyone there beside me.

On Friday as events spiralled out of control and fast thinking was needed I wanted back up. But there was none. All of my managers were off sick or on leave. God I needed some back up then. Of course it happens that people are off but it left me with an anxious fretful weekend when it was hard to switch off. This was exacerbated at 3.15 am today when I needed to do a serious plumbing rescue job to stop a flood. The plumber is coming tomorrow but for now I lead a precarious evening. That too makes me nervous.

So what to do? Well Idomeneo is on the radio, I have yesterday's paper to catch up on and I'm trying to slow my jittery mind. Not sure it is working but I am not plunged into the pre Christmas darkness. I think I can prevent that. It's only Monday but I will be glad when this week is over.

I Heard a Voice.

A Great Pianist and a Great Cuisine.

Looking back as I sometimes do on my blog posts it has become clear that posting about music is almost as prominent as posting on my themes of madness and food. It truth I rarely write, cook or read without music on. My penchant for opera is a comparatively late occurrence in my life, choral music has been there forever along with music for strings. Piano music is rare.

Tonight in my nice warm flat I am combining a great pianist and a great cuisine. The late Ronald Smith, father of my great friend Beka plays a sublime list of Liszt on my CD player and the light delicate yet punchy food of Vietnam plays away on my kitchen. Today's effort which will infuse for a couple of days combines chicken with a rich and fiery paste of chilli, lemongrass, shallots, garlic, chilli oil, curry powder and fish sauce. It smells divine. I will add carrots and potatoes a little later along with some coconut cream. The main curry is cooked in home made chicken stock which will thicken and cool to a gelatinous sauce. At the end of the week I will eat it.

As it cooks perhaps some reading, so nice to get away from the TV.

I Heard a Voice.

Remembering 3 Years On.

The last few years of my mum's life were marred by deteriorating mental health. By the time she died she had dementia, was depressed and overwhelmed by anxiety. Yet in those last few months there were rare glimpses of her in happier times. The occasion of the Kent launch of A Pillar of Impotence in November 2011 brought smiles to her face. I only saw her once more after that.

Exactly 3 years ago today mum turned 80. Her anxiety remained-not helped by some foolish GP telling her should possibly have a small glass of wine on her birthday unless she gave up taking a tiny dose of citalopram for a week either side. Sadly she didn't listen to my advice that she would be fine. But we had a lovely dinner out at Froggies at Timberbats and she smiled. Just over 2 months later she died.

As I reflect 3 years on it is so hard to believe how fast time has flown. Much of the time we didn't get on. But she still pops in my head at the most strange times. I want to talk to her. Of course I can't. But I remember her today, so happy birthday to mum who should have been 83 today.

I Heard a Voice.

Fiery Curry, Lots of Chillies.

Greetings to all you out there in blog land. You find me writing on a cold but clear day in which I have done a little domesticity-my cleaner is busy with her other job-a little shopping and now a little cooking. Tonight it is a Thai pork curry with ginger, pickled garlic and a lot of dried red chillies. I'm expecting fire.

I'm glad it is the weekend. I'm still finding work quite exhausting as I did not have any early mornings for a couple of months. It takes a bit of getting used to. I feared I might have had a late and potentially risky end to yesterday but it all went smoothly. Academic psychiatrists really should know better than to diagnose without even meeting people. The information I was given was bullshit. Why do people mistake anger for mental illness? Why indeed am I dealing with so many angry people? I suppose it is because I stay calm and usually diffuse situations.

Tomorrow brings roast duck and Rioja, some opera and then the NFC and AFC conference championship games as another NFL season draws towards its climax. I plan to watch the Super Bowl with my brother in law Nigel. See you soon.

I Heard a Voice.

Home Comforts.

Halleluia!! For the first time in 6 years the boiler system in my flat is working properly without losing pressure, I have hot water and I have heat. It has been a long time coming but it is finally a comfortable home.

To continue a theme of comfort the simplicity of roast chicken, roast potatoes and 3 different vegetables took up my early evening and now I'm listening to Haydn with a glass of Pinot Grigio and reflecting on a day that delivered more than it promised. Very good to catch up with my friend Jacqueline, she is amazing book reviews, for a sushi lunch and putting the world to rights.

I feel more stable after yesterday's shock discovery. I cannot do anything to undo what won't now be but I have to move on as best I can. I think my mood has hit +2 on the scale for the first time in ages. And that is very good news.

I Heard a Voice.

Don't Count Your Chickens.

There is an old English saying that states "never count your chickens before they hatch". Well I assume it is English. If my friend Richard is reading this no doubt he will google it and correct me. Today has been a day that began brightly then took a sharp and devastating nosedive this afternoon. My last post seems more apt now. Just as I was being cautiously optimistic my hopes have been dashed by a decision beyond my control. In reality I think it is the correct decision but it may have an impact that doesn't help me.

It appeared recently as if a path was beginning to become clear. Now it is murky and foggy and once again I go into the unknown without any inkling what is over the horizon.

Now home I brightened the evening with a beautiful rare sirloin steak and the music of Orlando di Lassus. I fear staring at the TV will take up most of the rest of my night. Whether I take anything in is anyone's guess.

I Heard a Voice.

Think of Things That Might Have Been

Now that the MSc is all over, assuming I pass, I can now go out at the weekend and not worry about whether I should be studying or feeling guilty for neglecting my studies. So with a free mind and my anxiety in check I took the bus over to St Albans yesterday and had a day out. Little Marrakech  for sardines and merguez sausages, a wander in the market then a pint in The Lower Red Lion made for a wonderful change from recent months. But it got me thinking.

Casting my mind back 15 years salvation from madness seemed to be becoming a teacher. I qualified in August 2000 and continued my search for a job. During that time I had an interview at St Albans School and the put me up in The Lower Red Lion. I liked the school and was disappointed when yet again I was rejected. The night before the interview I had a wander up the hill and found a marvellous Thai restaurant. Since my move to Hertfordshire I have never found the restaurant. Yesterday I did.

How different might my life have been had I got that job? Or indeed any of the other 150 odd posts I applied for? We will never know. Do I regret teaching not working out? No. But there is always the what if? What might have been? Paul Simon once wrote that "a bad day is when I lie and think of the things that might have been".

I will never go back to teaching. Teaching wouldn't have me now. Am I better at what I do now? In my view infinitely. My life is changing and I don't know where I will be in 12 months time. It was not a bad day to think of what might have been. It was a good day. Compared to where I was 15, 20, 25 years ago, the length of my illness, I have moved on, I am better, and most of the time I am winning.

Sometimes I recall those dark days of madness. Sometimes I don't. It is part of me but not the whole. That is the achievement of my recovery, madness no longer defines me. I cannot change what did or might have happened. Perhaps I shouldn't want to. Until next time.

I Heard a Voice.

All Done?

Of the many awful feelings of having a breakdown and ending up psychotically and suicidally depressed is that one's entire life seems fraudulent. Everything I had ever done was fake, manipulated, a lie and a fraud. I doubted everything I had ever believed.

My days of hitting the mental health floor are long gone. My alleged narcissism consigned only to the the egos of those judgemental fools who labelled me. Who were the real narcissists in my tragic story? Yet that lack of belief and feeling of fraud still persists at times. Many say I downplay what I have achieved. I just don't think it is that important. Clearly they have never seen my mini manias.

Yesterday I handed in my final MSc assignment. Reason to celebrate of course but it is tempered by that fear, will I pass? My first assignment got a mark worth a distinction, huge praise from other students and was short-listed for an innovation award. But it was not innovative, it was merely researching a change that would happen with or without me and writing it down. My second assignment barely passed and I have no idea where I went wrong. And this one, who knows, I have no idea what is expected of me.

A friend commented in the week that I dismissed teaching myself A Level Philosophy in a year and getting a C. That is no achievement as I didn't get an A. Doubt. Fake. Fraud.

In time I will find out if I have passed my MSc. Everyone thinks I will without any doubt. But it ain't over until it's over. The day of graduation when dad comes along I will believe. That is a sad legacy of breakdown and 25 years of mental illness.

Getting There, Hand In Tomorrow.

Despite my lurgy I have survived the first 2 days back. Still all over the place but slowly things are starting to take shape. I left a little early today to visit my Dr. As suspected I am unwell but not in a serious way. He gave me antibiotics to use if it doesn't clear up in a few days. I will try to let nature take its course.

So home on a Tuesday night I dined on fiery Hunan lamb, turned the TV off and switched over to Offenbach. Been a while since I listened to him. It is good. Of perhaps a bit more significance I have everything checked, printed and fill in for my MSc submission which I hope to do tomorrow. Then it is out of my hands.

And so I return to T E Lawrence. Still loving it but it is very slow, can't manage more than a couple of chapters per night. Maybe by next Christmas I will be there.

See you all soon, and yes there are people out there now after my recent baron audience spell.

I Heard a Voice.

PS Still no joy on the boiler, played phone tennis with them today, try again tomorrow.

An Excessive Accumulation.

As summer turned to autumn way back in 1995 my life started to change. It was 5 years after I first got ill. I had had 2 inpatients stays, survived a significant suicide attempt, identified almost exclusively with the mad for too long and lost so much of who I had been before. That all changed in 1995 and slowly but surely the pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place. On 30th August 1995 nearly 60 people attended a birthday party for me with people who were not mad. Less than a week later I met Caroline Latham who just calls herself a healer and for the first time in 5 years I had a glimpse of what wellness might look like.

The Buddhist in her kept stressing to me that I must de-clutter physically and mentally. Emptying all the shit of my life was hard and I never did completely succeed but I did eventually get to a point where life seemed worthwhile again.

Today I moved into my 4th office of my now nearly 7 1/2 year tenure as Mental Wellbeing Advisor at the University. It is no longer just mine; I turned down an office to myself. It is clinical, hot as a sauna and feels like a call centre. But we will make it work. And today I started to de-clutter all the shit I have accumulated in that time. God it is hard work.

Fancying a wander at lunch time I found the sushi bar had no sushi. I'm still gripped by whatever this ailment is. But I survived. I get to see my GP tomorrow; something of a miracle seeing him twice in 2 months.

I hope I'm getting there. Thanks to all of you who have looked on here in the last few days. My audience is back and that in itself lifts my mood a little. It will be a long haul to Easter but if I can shake this current affliction I'm hopeful we will survive this 8th year away.

See you soon.

I Heard a Voice

Back to a Nobody

Hi all, yes slowly people are coming back. I'm still battling cold or chest infection or whatever this is. It is cold and foggy so not the greatest of days. Mozart is trying his best to brighten my day but with only limited success.

I was very interested yesterday to read the story below from the Cambridge News written by an old friend Emma about being a parent of a King's chorister:

http://www.cambridge-news.co.uk/son-Cambridge-s-world-famous-King-s-College-Choir/story-25797598-detail/story.html 

Beautifully written it neglects to mention a couple of things. Firstly Emma attended the school in the late 1970s and 1980s with me. Secondly her father David was Deputy Head for some years. So a bit of a connected helping hand.

My fear, shared by another ex chorister, is how her son will adjust from star/superstar/famous to being just another kid when it is all over the in summer. That adjustment is very hard and in the euphoria that is King's choir a fact that is overlooked.

Our world of the choir was rather more fraught with danger back in those days. Today they have an even more ridiculous schedule but they are protected. Some days I think of my experience as being exploitation. On other it is part of my heritage. I was not famous but it was. Anonymous fame is a most odd experience.

32 years after I left I still live in obscurity. Famous only in my world. This blog does I suppose widen my circle in a very anonymous way as do my books. But I am content in obscurity. Let us hope young James finds the same next autumn when being a chorister will have passed into his past.

I Heard a Voice

Gathering Gloom.

The news is not good my end. On this grey, gloomy and wet day I have barely moved beyond the sofa. Didn't even eat lunch. The tonsil pain has now moved to my chest and right ear. It hurts to move, to laugh, to cough and pretty much everything else. I was even in bed by 11.45 pm as I felt so rough and didn't wake up until midday.

So a day of nothing other than repeats on TV, a couple of cups of coffee, 1 of tea and not much else. Can't believe that after missing most of the end of last term I'm now ill again as another term starts on Monday.

I will venture out later to eat. Then I don't know. Is it worth going to bed but not to sleep? I find that very frustrating. Chatting to someone I know last night has had something similar he said it lasted a week. Well 4 days to go then if I'm lucky. Hopefully feel better next time I speak to you all.

I Heard a Voice

Deja Vu.

A year has now passed since I woke up to 2014 with swollen tonsils. It quickly morphed into the most horrendous cough which they thought was whooping cough. And that took me out of action for some time.

This year I woke up and guess what? My tonsils were swollen and I feel very under the weather. All very weird but that is the nature of deja vu. With luck it is only a little burst of tonsillitis which I'm a bit prone to. Please God if you are there just let it be that and be gone in a couple of days.

To sooth the pain I'm hoping a slow cooked roast shoulder of pork will help. My friend Richard is coming. And I will take it very gently.

As for the party it was good although marred somewhat by a couple of people using cocaine and ruining the night for others. Why do people do that shit?

I Heard a Voice.