Not Meant To Be.

A couple of weeks ago it looked like I was in for a really busy weekend. I had invites to London on Friday for a leaving dinner, Borough Market on Saturday, China Town with Ros on Sunday and catching up with our mutual friend Rebecca tonight for the first time in nearly 20 years. Well it is Monday evening, I'm at home having a beer, my bank balance has not been dented by tickets and I haven't stepped on a train at all. So it didn't go to plan.

Actually missing Ros and Rebecca was on account of sick children so that really can't be helped. There will be other times and with luck next time all 3 of us will be together.

Having slept appallingly, 3 1/2 hours max it is actually nice to spend an evening doing nothing. Dad returned from Somerset far earlier than anticipated yesterday and we had some fun. The belly pork with fennel, thyme and garlic was good and we felt very fat.

It is the final week of term. I'm booked out apart from some sort of team building day tomorrow. I never quite know what to make of such things. I'm hoping to catch up on all my paperwork over the break. Then it may get a little quieter. Have to go, Miriam is on the phone.

I Heard a Voice.

A Requiem Day.

It was my intention today to get up a little early and catch the bus to St Albans, have a Thai lunch, a look round the market and maybe a couple of pints in The Lower Red Lion. Sadly it was not to be as I awoke for the third time since New Year's Day with inflamed tonsils and generally feeling pretty ropey. What is happening to my throat? This is ridiculous. I did manage to get out for a little shopping which exhausted me. Keeping it simple tonight, just a pork chop, some roast potatoes and vegetables.

Back at home I'm listening to Gabriel Faure's epic Requiem. Fitting as it is on the third anniversary of my mum's death. Time has flown. Dad and Miriam are in Somerset and spread the last of mum's ashes by a stream in a wood on the Quantock Hills this morning. Mum loved it there. So the final act of her life and death has taken place. We fought for years yet as I recall at the very end of Charon's Ferry that we made peace before the end.

I love Requiems. After this comes our 1981 spine tingling recording of the Maurice Durufle masterpiece. Very French. It is fitting on such a day that I return to those days. I've seen too many deaths in my time. But death is as much part of life as life is part of life.

On that note I will leave you all and immerse myself in sublime music.

I Heard a Voice.

A Royal Event.

A most odd and unlikely event will come to pass on Thursday in the UK. The mortal remains of King Richard III, last of the Plantagenet line, the last English king to die in battle will be reburied more than 500 years after his death. An extraordinary story with his bones being dug up from under a car park in the middle of Leicester in 2012.

Richard remains one of our most controversial Kings. Vilified by Shakespeare and the Tudor propaganda machine that subsequently tried to expunge him from history, his coffin is drawing extraordinary crowds to the cathedral where he will be buried on Thursday. Thousands lined the route of his procession yesterday. Some claim he was a child killer with his young nephews mysteriously disappearing in 1483 clearing the way for him to seize the throne. In truth we know little of the truth. Within 2 years Richard too had lost his throne to another usurper Henry Tudor, cut down on Bosworth Field and our history changed forever

I guess it must all seem rather extraordinary to visitors from afar. Or indeed those kind enough to read my blog. But it is part of history. And our history makes us who we are.

Away from the nostalgic celebration of royalty another day is over. Easter is nearly upon us. I'm well and having a quiet evening of Massenet opera and reading. Good to get away from all the screens. So I bid you farewell until next time.

I Heard a Voice.

Home Comforts.

Spring is definitely here. What a glorious day and so nice not to have to work when the sun is shining. It has been a day of home comforts, long lazy lie in, good coffee, a touch of smoked haddock for a light lunch and now a fine chicken is roasting away in the oven. I'm listening to Palestrina after a morning of Purcell. I haven't been lazing all day, I managed to fit in a walk. That was very much needed after last night's feast. Jo and I were just decadent, copious amounts of spiced lamb courtesy of me and copious amounts of Eton mess courtesy of Jo. We had a lovely evening.

So what of the week to come? In truth I can't be bothered to look at my diary. That can wait until the morning. I suppose at some stage I ought to make some comment on the increasingly visible mental health agenda that for once has come centre stage in the soon to be launched election campaign. Yes those of us who live here and are lucky enough to get a vote are anticipating a general election in 6 weeks. The right wing UKIP group has in some respect turned British politics upside down. What will happen is anyone's guess. I have a friend who is standing for UKIP. My left and right wing friends here are equally worried by UKIP.

Let tomorrow be tomorrow, I plan to enjoy the rest of today and not fret about the future. See you soon.

I Heard a Voice.

A Touch of Moroccan Spice.

What a dull day. After the later sunshine of yesterday we have had disappointment today. Sadly the skies didn't clear in time to see the eclipse where we are. Despite taking Monday off last week seemed an awfully long one. Well it is over now and the weekend is here.

I'm not done much today. I did some tidying and cleaning as I have a friend coming for dinner. Jo has not sampled my food before so let's hope it turns out okay. It can't be much worse than the terrible beef rendang I had in Hakalok last night. So salty. I had a few bottles of Tsing Tao to make up for it though.

Given Jo's love of lamb I have turned to the wonderful spices of Morocco for supper. A half shoulder smothered in butter, cumin, ginger, garlic, pimenton and dried ginger. It looks a treat. There is something wonderful about slow roasted lamb that comes apart without a knife, slips off the bone and crisps the skin. Jo is bringing pudding.

As for the rest of the weekend it is sleeping, cooking roast chicken and my usual Sunday afternoon opera fest. Time to recharge the batteries. My mood remains okay, not slipped under for a little while now. Maybe I will post again tomorrow.

I Heard a Voice.

The Heat of Thailand.

My journey home today was so uneventful apart from those stopped without tickets that there is precious little to report. But I made it in good time and despite the narrowing of the times between trains I made my connection fine.

It was a good weekend with dad. He seemed to enjoy me being there, we had a lovely curry for his birthday and the roast pork whilst not quite up to the Gloucester Old Spot from Borough Market was still a triumph.

Now back at home I'm juggling between whether to listen to the aforementioned Peter Grimes or to watch a film. Whatever I do I'm still relishing the Thai stir fried prawns with garlic and chilli that I had for my supper. By God those chillies pack a punch. I hate to think what Dory's ghost chillies are like!

I'm trying not to think of tomorrow. I know I'm recruiting residential assistants later in the week just not sure when. My diary slots are getting filled up quickly. But it will soon be the end of term. Not much of a break but with luck it will be less busy after Easter as the exam season looms. See you all soon.

I Heard a Voice.

And Changeful as the Sea.

And so the sun has set on the 3rd Mother's Day since mum died. You will recall my views from posts in the last 2 years. Social media is a danger zone to be avoided. I chatted with Katie who lost her mum last year. Neither of us like this day but we cannot avoid it.

I am down in Kent with my dad. There was no point even trying to book Sunday lunch out so I decided to cook. We invited Beka's mum Anne who would have been on her own. After a long leisurely lunch we are all full of roast pork, good Spanish red and a splendid pudding dad made of granola, yoghurt and blueberries. We had a lovely afternoon.

When Anne went home dad and I took a stroll down to the beach. Oh yes, the sea I yearn for. Britten's stunning evocation of the sea in Peter Grimes filled my thoughts at the awesome power of the water. It was the sea that took mum very nearly 3 years ago.

In the greying twilight shadows I remembered the haunting Michael Head song The Singer. His eyes were grey and far away, and changeful as the sea. And changeful as the sea. The beach and that sea witnessed my utter darkness of  yesteryear. Today that darkness is far away despite memories of mum. It has been a far better day than I expected. A wander into town to see my friend Leigh in The Three Mariners is coming up before going to say goodbye to Sue and Duncan in The Butt of Sherry. Homeward bound on the morrow.

I Heard a Voice.

A Change of Fortune?

When I finally emerged on yet another day of staying home the sun was shining, the temperature was up and a glorious day lay outside. Having survived the first couple of hours without a hideous coughing fit I risked going  for a walk. The result is I'm still standing and feeling that at last this latest setback is abating. It is my intention to go back to reality tomorrow.

Curiously enough this has not really had a detrimental effect on my mental health. Normally if I'm off a few days I tend to veer towards being depressed. I have felt unsettled, a fraud and guilty but I haven't felt depressed.

Whatever I have missed I have missed. I cannot be there all the time. Term is beginning to wind down now. After Easter it will go in the blink of an eye. Year 8. Has it really been that long? I travel to Kent to see dad on Friday. His birthday is coming up so we're hoping to go out for a celebratory curry.

Tonight I have a tagine. The Moroccan mackerel of yesterday was delicious. Light and healthy. The tagine will be much heartier.

I Heard a Voice.

And So It Goes On.

Last night despite still feeling exhausted I thought I was on the mend. After a terrible night's sleep it all came back and I stayed home again. I cannot stop sleeping, the coughing makes my chest hurt and I feel generally shit. It has been going on since Thursday although in truth the overwhelming desire to sleep for England goes back to my melt down before Christmas.

So on a day that has seen winter edged back I'm stuck at home. I did manage to watch Rick Stein in Morocco and Turkey. I've seen it many times before but was struck today by his trip to Gaziantep in the east of Turkey so near the Syrian border. He visited in kinder but still troubled times. Now from what I've heard it is dangerous territory. This war that has raged for so long and killed so many deeply saddens me. Does anyone really know what it is about? I don't.

The programme got me thinking that I have neglected my North African and Middle Eastern food recently. So tonight I will pan fry a mackerel fillet in some Moroccan spices and eat a health salad. If I have any energy left over-somewhat doubtful-I will cook a lamb and prune tagine for tomorrow.

For now I listen to Handel's Sosarme, Re Di Media and rest. Tonight Bizet's Carmen is on the radio. Let us hope I can stay awake long enough to listen to it.

I Heard a Voice.

Certificate Received.

Prior to my return to Cambridge in 1999 to do the PGCE I taught myself A Level Philosophy. It was never my intention to teach myself but there was no one else doing it so not enough for a class. I passed with a very  disappointing C grade. To make it worse they failed to send the certificate to the college and when I challenged them they swore blind it had been sent. They wanted to charge for a replacement and I couldn't afford it. So nothing to show for a year of work.

Fast forward to 2013-2015 and I have completed another qualification. It is one infinitely more valuable. And yesterday my certificate arrived along with a transcript of my marks. So I can add the letters MSc to the existing MA (Cantab) and PGCE. Trying to keep my life low key I do not use those letters very often. But I have them.

Away from achievement I continue to struggle with a sore throat, fatigue and general not feeling good. I abandoned my plan to go to St Albans. I did manage a little domestic tedium-God I miss my cleaner-then had a little drive in the country. Stopped for a pint in the sunshine at The White Horse in Burnham Green. Very pleasant on a nice spring day.

Thai is on the menu tonight, pork stir fried with chilli and basil, fire here we come. And tomorrow a roasted gammon joint. With luck I will feel somewhat better then.

I Heard a Voice.

Dream Reprisal.

There is a beautiful spring day going on outside. The sun is shining, the bulbs are out in force and away from the wind it is warm. Sadly I'm still battling a sore throat and feeling rough. For the second day in a row I was forced to cancel everything and stay home. Shame as I had plans for lunch with my old friend David, the former Dean of Students.

Owing to an oversight yesterday I did have to go into town again to pick up my prescription from the GP surgery. I did a little shopping, had sandwich then came straight home. I parked near my old flat, it's great up there in spring. It made me think of happy times. In  truth the memories are mixed. I had so little money back then I could hardly do anything. I was very lonely baring a couple of visitors every now and again. And much of the time I had to sleep in the main house following flood damage in the flat. And the dreams.

Hard to believe but it is nearly 10 months since I gave up smoking. Many people ask me do I feel better? Breathing wise I feel no different. I suppose I have a little more energy. I'm certainly fatter. But it is the curtailing of the nightmares that has defined my no smoking life. Unfortunately this morning just when I needed sleep the nightmares flooded back.

So as I listen to Cosi Fan Tutte in my sunlit flat I'm struggling to stay awake. So tired, it is amazing how much feeling unwell impacts of sleep. Let us hope for more tomorrow.

I Heard a Voice.

Old Faces, New Places.

Greetings all, a rare afternoon venture on here. In truth I have been struggling with a bad throat and cold since I got up this morning. Not wanting to pass the lurgy round I stayed home and slept most of the morning. The afternoon has been just resting and listening to Massenet's opera Cleopatre. Good stuff to listen to whilst under the weather. I'm sure it will go quickly and I can return to the chaos that is passing for normal at present.

Yet it was of last night that I planned to blog. On Monday purely out of the blue I e mailed one of my old Cambridge friends to say hi. It has been several years since I saw him, he lived in Chicago for some time so a bit of a challenge. As chance would have it he was planning on meeting up with the old crew from Selwyn days last night. So off I went to a pub on Harley Street, Inn 1888, well worth a visit if you are in the vicinity followed by the most marvellous curry I've had in years. Mixed starters of tandoori meats and prawns followed in my case by a wonderful shatkora gosht, fresh, tangy and citrusy. It was a revelation.

So good to reconnect with my past after all those years in the wilderness. We have all aged a little, we take a life a little more seriously than we did then but have we changed that much? Stories of old and stories of new. It is now 24 years since we graduated. All are doing well. Am I? Well I set my targets in a different way. I am not judged by what little I earn. No I am judged by what little good I do in life.

Let us hope for a healthier tomorrow. Until then, I say goodbye.

Another Week, Another Monday

There was a distinct chill in the air when I left this morning. A cold wind blew in contrast to the bright sunshine. Did I speak too soon about spring? As has happened for the last 3 months I struggled to get up. But make it I did.

Time to pick up the pieces of last week. My emotional flare up of Friday has dissipated although guess whose desk it all landed on this morning? Is it really okay that the crisis team see fit to hand over 4 people in a day? That is what they did. So the risk passes to my control. Once again it is feeling very pressured, there is but 1 of me. Why is it those "more qualified" than me hand over all the highest risk students to me? What are they doing? It's a good question to which I have no answer. Maybe it will resolve itself in time; perhaps my new manager when he arrives will have some sort of plan.

I struggled once again to cook today, couldn't be bothered. The breast of lamb yesterday was a triumph. I will definitely try that again. I am determined to get back into my kitchen this week, thinking Vietnamese tomorrow. Let's hope I can muster up the motivation and energy to follow up on my plan.

For all that though my mood remains good. Just wish I could shift this fatigue problem. See you soon everyone.

I Heard a Voice