Not So Rare Beef.

Greetings on such a dull day. The weather has really turned, rain last night and cold and grey today. I had an excellent lunch at The Waggoners although the beef wasn't very rare. It was beautifully tender and succulent. Lovely glass of Malbec too followed by a fruit and champagne terrine and some marvellous raspberry sorbet. All in all a good trip out.

Back at home my anxiety of recent days has abated somewhat. I'm listening to Mozart's Coronation Mass and looking forward to Howells' Collegium Regale and Bainton's And I Saw a New Heaven at the church of St Francis of Assisi in town later. It's only an amateur choir so not expecting miracles but it is such sublime music I felt I couldn't miss it.

I have made a little progress on a small project I'm toying with. Whilst unlikely to succeed, very few of my ventures do, but worth a go I suppose. Tomorrow I'm interviewing prospective clinical psychology doctorate students-very competative so looking forward to that. Normal service resumes on Tuesday.

I Heard a Voice.

A Single Sight, Smell or Sound.

It's funny how just a single sight, smell or sound can take us all back to something from the past. We all experience this but living with mental illness can intensify the feeling of that recall. Sometimes it can go to full blown flashback. I've not had a really bad one for some time but to a lesser extent it happens.

At home yesterday after a mixed week and feeling quite anxious anyway I looked at a missive from my old college in Cambridge. As I put it down the back cover flashed me back to another life time. On it was an image of college graduation. Young smiling faces in their finery.

My memories are not so happy of graduation. I was a 21 year old on the edge of a breakdown. I had to run out of a graduation lunch as I was overwhelmed by what I later learned was a panic attack. I'd never had them before. I had an argument with my mum over a photo. And it was the end of a former life. I was already suicidal that day but no one know.

Within 6 weeks I was locked in an old asylum not sure if I would ever get out. So started my long and bitter battle with mental illness.

24 summers have happened since then. Who am I now? I'm not sure I know. All too quickly Monday will come around and the grind goes on. I'm not back in that time today but I remain anxious. The cricket is on and there is a good chance of a result when a draw looked odds on.

There will be a rare venture to church tomorrow, purely for the music. And a lunch at The Waggoners. Might see you all after that.

I Heard a Voice

Roundly Attacked.

I'm not much of a fan of Tuesdays at work. If there is a day that will piss me off it is usually Tuesday. The day of the precious meeting. Today we had yet another focus on the waiting list. I do not have a waiting list. The others' list stands at 50 and counting. Now given that there is no more resource and people will keep adding to the list something has to change.

So I asked a question, rhetorical of course, about why it is so vital that it is structured and timed in the way that it is? Result a torrent of attacks that I could possibly suggest such a thing. Yet the problem remains, I have no waiting list and they do. I wonder who really needs to change?

It was a long day. The rest of the week will be too. But I'm home, Verdi's Falstaff plays quietly in the background, my supper was disappointing but not a disaster, and I'm about to launch forth on the marinade for a proper Indian vindaloo. That will steep overnight then fire. See you all tomorrow.

I Heard a Voice.

Rich and Poor Side By Side.

Well it's another Sunday. I'm listening to Mozart's La Finta Semplice. I had healthy salad of sardines, French beans and potatoes with an olive oil and lemon dressing. My shoulder of pork is coming up to room temperature. And I'm reading the Sunday Times.

It was reading Chris Woodhead's education letters page that prompted me to pen this post today. A woman had written in saying her son was on a full scholarship at a major private school. Sounds familiar to me 30 years later. Of course fees are only part of the story. Such a child lives with rich kids who have far more in terms of material things. Another similarity. One of the great strengths of the private schools is the extra curricular programme of sports, cadets, music, plays and trips. The last of these needs to be paid for. And each sets back the poorer scholarship children.

It all brings things back. It was never easy being the have nots amongst the haves. Most of the music scholars I studied with like me could never have afforded to go to private schools without those scholarships. I was lucky in that the choir trips that I went on were paid for by the school.

Many may slate private schools as elitist. But they gave me an opportunity that would not have existed without them. I had talents and my parents worked hard to make it happen. Today many more schools look out for people from more disadvantaged backgrounds. The Universities do too. But they are not equal, those without are perceived as different. In  the arrogance of our youth many knew no better. Then one day we all have to grow up.

Some go on to great things. Others do not. I went on to breakdown and mental illness. My friend Trapper is stricken with MS at the age of 46 and unable to speak. So even the greatest advantages in education do not guarantee fine successful lives. That is just fate.

I hope you are all enjoying your Sunday. I ought to go for a walk later but given how grey and cold it is out there it doesn't feel that appealing.

I Heard a Voice.

The Accidental Advisor.

What a strange week it has been. I've been interviewing for Non Executive Directors for the Trust. Advising prospective MPs. Finally seeing my assistant's post advertised. Watched too much TV. Caught up and got behind again. And I've missed my opera.

Thus on Thursday night I have a beer open, Don Giovanni playing and another blog post is coming up. The advisor bit is far less glamorous than it sounds. A rather wealthy old school friend is standing in an east London Labour heartland seat to challenge an arrogant and self righteous incumbent. Mere mortals like me could never do but as she has the resources of a number of Trust Funds why not? It is a radical left wing agenda-not my scene. But she needed my advice on mental health policy. So I am now a political advisor-how funny is that? For the first time ever mental health is on the agenda at a general election. Mainly that is down to Liberal Democrats taking up the cause. Good luck to Ellie.

The interviewing was interesting. Some outstanding candidates, some not so. It all goes official on Monday when we the governors have to approve or disapprove the preferred candidates. How funny is that? Me with power?

For all that though the most startling thing I learned this week is that male suicides have risen so much in the UK since 2007 that the deaths rates are equivalent to an airliner packed with men crashing every month. Now that is scary. A most touching programme as a man researched why his father had killed himself at 44, the same age as the researcher is now.

As a survivor I know a lot about suicide. I also have lost so many people to suicide. Is there an answer? If there is I don't know it. The so called Detroit model for suicide prevention is being picked up here but without resources how will it ever work?

Tomorrow is Friday. A step back and off to a beer festival at The Horse and Groom. a night of lesser matters. More soon.

I Heard a Voice.

No Opera Today.

Today has been a different Sunday. There was no opera. I'm not cooking. And no walk today. In fact I went out for a lovely Sunday lunch at The White Horse at Welwyn with my friend Madeline. And what a fun afternoon we had. Chewing the fat over roast beef and Adnam's ale turned out to be a good plan.

After a light supper I intend a lazy TV evening. Really can't be bothered with anything tonight. Tomorrow we have the Care Quality Commission meeting with the Governors. Yes the inspection is coming. A little bit like Ofsted in schools. Whether there is equal dread I'm not sure but I know there are problems that may or may not be unearthed during the process. Good practice too no doubt.

I think I'm in pretty good shape mentally. Finally managed to catch up with myself at work last week so can move on to other things now. The week after the students are back and into exams almost straight away. The summer term is oh so short. Then the long grind of the holiday. I have a lot of plans which will become apparent in due course on here. See you soon.

I Heard a Voice.

PS The opera famine will be cured tomorrow as The Magic Flute is on the radio.

PPS And the test match starts in the afternoon.

All Change at the Top.

This leaving lark must be contagious. With the dust still up in the air on Kym leaving we discovered today that our head of department is leaving too. Leaving a sinking ship or a spring board to greater things? History may record the answer to that but I remain rooted firmly where I have been for the last nearly 8 years.

A couple of years have passed since I posted on here my piece on leaving. Still stuck. I'm looking but find little. The promised change of change is slow filtering down to bottom feeders like me. I learned a long time ago that one never quite knows who or what will come into our lives on any given day. Sadly it seems a long time since that happened to me.

The quiet season will progress as it always does. Easter. Exams. Retakes. And then the long summer. I'm getting older and fatter but I'm not in an awful position. I meet interesting people for a living. Some recognise the value of what I do. No awards for me this year but it is my students who judge not me. Did I do some good today? I'm not sure I did. But I didn't do any bad either so that is something.

I Heard a Voice.

In the Beer Garden.

As is my wont on public holidays I went for a little jaunt in the country and inevitably ended up in a village pub. Today I sat in glorious sunshine watching the world go by at The Rose and Crown at Tewin. What a lovely way to while away an hour or two. I have extolled the virtues of country pubs on here before but they really are  very good and a backbone of our culture and society.

Tomorrow life gets real again. I will have to get up early, still struggling to do that. At present the diary looks okay but as no one else is in no doubt I will have to pick up any troubled students. What I'm not going to do though is act as secretary for those who are not in. Too much catching up to do.

Before then though I am enjoying an afternoon of Haydn's Creation. I have made a Thai curry paste to go with diced shoulder of pork and pickled garlic. I'm pretty partial to that particular curry. Eight dried chillies should ensure a fierce heat.

So before reality comes back happy Easter and happy holidays to all those of you out there enjoying them.

I Heard a Voice.

Choral Evensong.

It's Easter Day. Those of a certain persuasion regard this as the most important religious festival of the year. To others who perhaps do not share those views it is a day for Sunday lunch, lots of chocolate and not worrying about getting up for work tomorrow. Yes the long weekend goes on.

Having wrestled domestic crises of malfunctioning washing machines and fridges I have been somewhat anxious and on edge. The former is sorted but I fear for the latter. There is nothing I can on a holiday weekend but I suspect it may end up costing me money.

On a happier note after my walk I heard a live choral evensong from Ely cathedral which I very much enjoyed. A crown of turkey is in the oven-never cooked it before-the wine is chilling and I'm now on to Carmina Burana - great stuff.

Assuming the domestic crises do not erupt again tomorrow I intend to sleep and relax. The students in the main have gone home so when I get back on Tuesday a may be a little quieter than of late. See you then.

I Heard a Voice.

Unjustified Criticism.

As a child singing there were certain highlights to the calender. Ash Wednesday. The Advent Carol Service. Christmas Eve could not not be a highlight. And Good Friday. Today we mark Good Friday in the Christian calender, the day of the crucifixion of Jesus. According to Scripture both Jewish and Christian he will or did rise again. They just don't agree if Jesus was the Messiah. To Christians Sunday is the holiest of days, the day of the resurrection.

Early this morning I a caught train in the damp and drizzle to Cambridge to go to that service. Finally I would get to hear Allegri's Miserere live after all those years. I was hoping too for Lotti's Crucifixus. In a very full chapel I heard the former and found myself sadly disappointed. There were moments when the timing as all out and it felt it would fall apart. The occasional badly pitched note. The top Cs were glorious just that it didn't hang together.

Then I began to think. What are we expecting of children quite so young? The oldest of them is only in Year 8. They do amazing things. We did lots wrong in my time. Palestrina's Stabat Mater once completely collapsed. Likewise Tallis' Puer Natus Est Mass. Singing hard music live is tough. The overall event was stunning with emotion such a day evokes.

Back home after a long and tiring day I listened to our 1983 recording of the Miserere, it is exceptional and sublime. I listened too to Crucifixus and was almost overcome with emotion. I realise now that I was overly and unjustifiably critical. Those kids really are amazing.

I Heard a Voice.