Dull and Quiet.

It looks pretty grey out there today. Not much seems to be happening in the my part of the world. A day of nothing. To be expected for the last day of February? It has been a slow month for readers. How fickle the blogging world is. Maybe spring will come soon. There are some bulbs out but precious little sunshine.

I slept today. The fatigue and challenges continue. My life remains uneasy and change is palpable. I just feel very exposed at the moment. That is surely contributing to that tiredness. I was seething when I came home yesterday but held off from the angry e mail I wanted to send. Not feeling like that now but I do feel listless.

So on such a day I content myself with cooking. Shopping, hair cut, cut throat shave and a little tidying up have filled my afternoon. A simple bar lunch in The Horse and Groom went down well. Tonight I will have a chorizo and chickpea stew, tomorrow a slow roast rolled breast of lamb. That is a new one on me. And I have everything I need for a fierce Thai curry in the week. With luck such food will brighten my mood. Not depressed but flat; I remain on my guard.

There are only 4 more weeks to go this term. I need a break but will I think just do the Bank Holidays. With plans for June with dad and a well deserved couple of weeks off for my birthday I need to husband my precious days off. It would be nice to have a couple of long weekends. We will see.

I Heard a Voice.

Is It Really Only Tuesday?

Haydn's La Fedelta Premiata provides the backdrop to tonight's cyber missive. I have a beer open-it is well needed. And I'm tired. We have only had 2 days of this week so far but it has been a long week already. Mainly fallout from other things but feeling very attacked.

I'm holding my own mentally. The tiredness has not overwhelmed me as it did before Christmas. In truth I do not have my energy back from that setback. Mood is pretty good considering but it feels like the storm clouds are gathering. Sometimes I ask myself who puts on the greater expectation? Me? Or everyone else? I'm probably the worst culprit. My supervisor asked me the other day why I drive myself so hard. I'm not sure how to answer to that other than a constant crusade to prove wrong those who tried to tell me my whole life was a delusion. And to do it better than was done to me.

My last appointment with secondary mental health services was in 2008. I doubt I will ever go back but there is still that fear. When will it come back? For I know it will. The question is do I now have the resilience to hold off the madness and fight back? I did it before Christmas. And I will do it again.

That seems far away now but I am ever vigilant. Only 3 more days to go. I have been asked to give a radio interview on Sunday about mental health and suicide. It is to a student rather than a broadcaster but might be another interesting project for me to assist.

I Heard a Voice.

Walking in the Rain.

A bitter wind is blowing out there. It brings with it squalling rain showers and frigid wind chill. Clearly I chose the wrong time to go for my Sunday afternoon walk. It was so cold it left me with a headache and feeling somewhat wet. So I cut short my walk and decided to write this to my friends out there in the cyber world.

To say it was quite a challenging week would be a bit of an understatement. The events of Wednesday were not the entire disaster I feared but attendance was mediocre at best and I really didn't put on my finest performance in my talk. That said the important people did make time to come and hear me speak. As far as I'm concerned someone else can organise it next year.

My new manager has been appointed. Much to everyone's surprise a man has been selected. The field is dominated by white middle class women so it is good to go for someone different. He also hails from down my way in Kent. Perhaps we can swap anecdotes on Canterbury and country pubs. I'm not sure when he will arrive but I will be deeply saddened by the departure of my great friend and supporter Kym.

Back in the flat I'm slowly warming up listening to Cuban music on the radio and turning my thoughts to dinner. I have a fine French free range corn fed chicken to roast which I bought at Borough Market. A bottle of Chardonnay is chilling in the fridge. Time I suppose to parboil the potatoes. See you soon.

I Heard a Voice.

Event Management.

It is all very well people with the best of intentions celebrating and publicising mental health. I have spent years doing that. Not hard to say let's have a day. Much harder to organise such a day. After yet another day of being bombarded by demands, e mails and phone calls about tomorrow I have had enough. Trouble is I don't have the answers.

There were 4 deal with now calls today. I had 2 students. I had the dentist. I bumped into a breaking down student. I hadn't even got back to my office after the dentist before I was accosted. I was asked to show round interview candidates tomorrow. And I had 5 requests for appointments. I cannot do everything.

God knows what tomorrow will turn out like. Will anyone come? Will I still be standing? Will we have more crises? The sad thing is is that all those who should be supporting such an event are too busy doing other things.

The upshot of this is that I will not be applying for an event management job any time soon. And if they think I'm going through all this again next year my response is un-writeable. It was a day of frayed tempers. Tomorrow they may select my new manager. I hope they get it right.

I Heard a Voice.

Decadence is Ours!

My sister Miriam text earlier on to suggest that rare ribeye steak, potatoes sauteed in duck fat, petit pois and Bearnaise sauce with a glass of Rioja was somewhat decadent for a Monday evening. Maybe but it was sublime.

In my arrogant youth before my breakdown and the devastating recession of the 1990s we at Cambridge strove to be as decadent as possible. Of the many things I learned on going up to Cambridge in 1988 was the prevalence of "dining" societies. Translation, drinking societies. Each generation created it's own societies for such decadence. There was one in my time called the Merkins. The English translation of their Latin motto was "Decadence is Ours". Oh how we learned when it all went wrong.

I admit my visit to Borough Market brought back some of that decadence. The Gloucester Old Spot pork was so good it defied description. Even my friend Gary raved and he rarely does that. Currently under way is a wild boar and chorizo stew. Rustic of course but not a run of the mill meal.

When the latest recession hit the UK in 2007/08 a quiet revolution in food shopping ensued. Now the cheap supermarkets from Germany are hammering the old stores, rich people have changed their habits and we are living more within our means. I mixed the 2 back in Kent, Aldi a 30 second walk, Mandy's brilliant butcher 30 seconds walk and Waitrose 5 minutes.

Now in Hertfordshire I have no butcher but easy access to each of those supermarkets; I still mix and match. Tonight's decadence came from Aldi, a beautiful 21 day aged ribeye steak. And it was sublime.

Old and new can mix. Borough is an occasional indulgence but I can still live well away from that wonderful place.

I finally have a plan for my talk on Wednesday. It may be an empty room but I intend to blow away the one man and his dog who might turn up. See you soon.

I Heard a Voice.

A Feast Awaits.

Sunday, wonderful Sunday. A day to rest, to do opera, to cook and to read. On a rather dull day a pork shoulder joint has just gone in the oven, The Marriage of Figaro plays quietly, the paper is only a fraction read. I had to stop the good stuff to do some cleaning-very dull. I will have visitors round for roast pork later.

This is no ordinary joint of pork. It is Gloucester Old Spot pork from Borough Market. I spent a splendid afternoon with my friend Katherine at the market. It was packed but I came back laden with beautiful produce. Aside from the pork there was a chicken, some boar, a chorizo sausage, cinnamon from Sri Lanka, 2 different Spanish cheeses, bacon, and some beautiful damson jam. The latter really reminds me of mum. So for the next few days I will feast and share with my friends.

Oh too quickly though tomorrow will come. Last week was tough at times but not for the usual reasons. Finally late on Friday afternoon we confirmed the programme of events for Wednesday. Now all I need to do is give some thought to my talk and scribble down a few bullet points just to remind me of the order. I had planned to do that today but would rather listen to Mozart. Tomorrow it is then.

I Heard a Voice

Thanks Goodness for Purcell.

I have very much enjoyed each evening except Wednesday coming home to an hour of the music of Henry Purcell this week. He was featured on composer of the week. The final part has just finished. I'm really glad the week has finished too.

Co-ordinating events and managing multiple and changing demands of others has never been my forte. That has taken up much of the week leaving me with frayed nerves, too much anxiety and downright stress. The reason is that next Wednesday is University Mental Health and Wellbeing Day. Give me a crisis any day over organising such events. Finally get students, the student union, the charities and various other people on board and it is mayhem. I'm so tired. It has been a nightmare.

Yet as I enter the weekend with a beer, Beethoven and a feeling of exhaustion it seems we may finally have an event organised. My part is to offer a talk as I did last year although with no book to launch. I will speak at 4 pm on Wednesday with a theme of "Crisis? What Crisis? 25 Years of Student Mental Health". Whether anyone turns up is anyone's guess but if you are in the area of Hatfield you are more than welcome to join me in B400 on the College Lane campus for what I hope will be some fun.

In theory I am going to Borough Market tomorrow. In practice it entirely depends on when I wake up. I feel like sleeping for ever. When will this tiredness dissipate? Soon I hope.

I Heard a Voice.

Edged With Ice.

The cold weather of the last week is still in evidence by my lake. I returned today for the first time since our move at the end of last term. No not to work but merely to park my car. The surface was still, clear and tinged with ice. I would imagine earlier in the week it was a solid sheet of ice. Neither fish nor heron were in evidence on a cold cloudy day.

My friend Marie is visiting for the weekend. She has not been up here in over a year. So off we toddled for a little shopping, a sandwich and pint at The Horse and Groom then a trip round the Galleria. I was very restrained and spent little.

Back at home in the warm we have the rugby on-terrific performance from England yesterday by the way-and I'm contemplating a supper of Malaccan pepper crab with black beans, ginger and curry leaves. As we both have little reasons to celebrate we are splashing out on lunch at The Waggoners tomorrow, I suspect rare roast beef is in order.

No doubt the weekend will be oh so short. I remain tired, I slept for 11 hours last night, but doing well. Work is a little too manic for my liking but we have only 2 months to go until the Easter respite. See you soon.

I Heard a Voice.

Youth Over Experience.

Today I was invited to be part of an assessment panel for an academic post. I was not doing the interviewing but rather listening to 4 presentations, questioning the presenters then giving feedback. Given that we had no context not having seen their CVs or histories it was a fascinating exercise. A single candidate stood head and shoulders above the rest. And she was the youngest and least experienced. Some of the others felt the lack of experience would be a problem. Had it been down to me it would have been no question at all. She inspired me and if I wanted someone to teach me it would be her. In time no doubt I will find out the result; I very much hope to meet her again.

That was just part of my busy day. I didn't really stop other than a couple of 5 minute food breaks. I got home at nearly 6 pm. Tomorrow will be equally busy. Only then can I come up for air.

As I try to wind down Puccini's Turandot plays, a beer is open and T E Lawrence beckons. Over half way now. I managing but my diary is getting too hectic, will need to keep a lid on things in the coming weeks if I don't want to spiral out of control.

I Heard a Voice.

Vindication!

Just over a dozen years after an off the cuff conversation with my friend Heather I have finally realised a dream. At that time I was trying and failing to get a job as a teacher. I had been trying for nearly 3 years and despite 150 odd applications and 18 interviews teaching had given up on me. Was I ready to give up on it? I had no choice.

On that afternoon in the summer of 2002 she asked if I would consider working in mental health. My response was yes but not for the enemy. She asked what I wanted to do. To be a consultant of course. Her answer was telling "you have to start at the bottom". And so I did.

Held back by "what would you know?" "What qualification do you have for that?" "You're not a nurse or social worker" and all myriad of barriers, somehow I landed the job at the university in 2007.

Today I came of age. I have passed the MSc in Mental Health Practice. It is a course undertaken almost exclusively by psychiatrists. It is proof after all these years I do know what I'm talking about. Where I go from here who knows but I feel utterly vindicated that my 25 year journey has finally been recognised. It is but a piece of paper but it is my piece of paper that says fuck you to those who doubted me!

I Heard a Voice.

Black Fertile Soil.

Travelling to and fro Ely via Cambridge in the past few days took me through field after field of fertile black soil. The earth of East Anglia brings forth wondrous products. It was flecked with snow belying harder falls north of me. I was slightly sad to see some of those fields given over to solar farms. Given world resources can we really afford to waste such fertility? It is always good to go back home although I didn't really do more than pass through Cambridge.

Back in Hertfordshire I have shopped, had a pint of Black Sheep in The Waggoners then cooked Balinese pork with chillies, ginger and kecap manis. Now settling in to a night of opera-Offenbach's Les Contes d'Hoffman is on the radio-and some reading.

Tomorrow it gets real. My inbox is groaning with requests. I haven't read any of them yet but I suspect it will be a busy few days. Fortunately my mood is holding, not so sure about my energy though. Still struggling with the early mornings

Until next time.

I Heard a Voice