Another Ending, What Beginning Awaits?

So we have reached the final day of 2016. What a roller coaster it has been for me and the wider world. That wider world mourns yet more celebrities dying, I mourn my 11 dead in the last 13 months. So many in so short a time. 20% of my annual leave last year was taken up with funerals. But there has been a lull now, long may it last.

A year ago I was still struggling out of a mighty burn out driven slump. Yes my madness sometimes comes back to bite me. Yet not now. Mentally I have been doing really well since the autumn. Now winter encompasses us in the fog of the last two days, the bitter cold and icy pavements, and the general gloom of today. I'm usually fine until after the Super Bowl when the dark, wet cold cannot be held off much longer. I will wake up again at Easter.

Seems a strange day for a celebration. I'm home, sorting things out, finally putting the cards up, listening to Mozart Piano Sonatas, and staying away from the outside world.

Tonight I will re-engage with that world as we remember our friend Jeff who lost his battle with cancer three years ago today. The following day was when I succumbed to the evils of whooping cough. I have come down with yet another cough, coldy thing but nothing at all serious.

After tonight the New Year brings slow roast shoulder of lamb, possibly paracetamol and more rest. I'm not sleeping that well but there is still a way to go. What will 2017 bring me? I do not have crystal ball but I feel in a better place today than I did a year ago.

To all my kind readers out there whoever you, Happy New Year and have an unimaginably good 2017.

I Heard a Voice.

Shades and Ice.

A bitter frost greeted me as I awoke far too early this morning. After a return of florid if not horrific dreams I gave up and got up. So much for a holiday lie in. Venturing forth to check things out the sky was blue and clear, the sun was calmed of necessity by shades and the footing was treacherous. A day to be careful.

Having got my hair cut and restocked my food supplies I was marginally disappointed by the lack of interesting things in sales. Most was of little interest and so my gift card goes unused for the time being.

A drive out into the country took me for lunch at The White Horse at Burnham Green. Been a few weeks since I was there. Lovely lunch and a pint, then home through lowering sun-not easy driving conditions.

And now back in the warmth I return to my opera. La Clemenza di Tito should keep me entertained for the rest of the afternoon. I bought a pair of duck breasts not realising they are use by today. I guess I will have to find someone to invite. Will open a bottle of red for that.

I'm still some time off returning to normality. What forethought it was to take that extra time away. It has been a good break in the main although sleep at times like last night has been impaired. I need to store energy for the dark, cold and depressing months that are February and March, not much a fan of that time of year.

There will likely be one more post this year on the eve of 2017. I have posted slightly less this year but still people are reading and contemplating in the silence of the cyber world on what I choose to share. Thanks for that.

I Heard a Voice.

Tasting the Sea.

As the sun shone, the air was bitter and the tide ebbed away from Folkestone harbour I could taste the sea. That marvellous ozoney smell that Rick Stein talks about in his early TV programmes took me back to all those years living here. Is there a greater description of that captivating world than Britten's extraordinary evocation of the sea in Peter Grimes? I have been without opera for a few days now. TV too. And I'm loving the sea.

That glorious sight of a small harbour with the fishing boats going ever lower into the mud and the seagulls scavenging reminds me of what I miss in Kent. I have said before about coming back. Not now but maybe one day. I was in Folkestone visiting my friend Marie. Her daughter stroke son was there, stroke as Tom now considers himself transgender having been born Tegan. The young are so much more accepting of difference and change than we are. We had a lovely lunch in The Ship right on the quayside, simple goujons of lemon sole and an ale, about as fresh as fish gets.

My tarry in these parts is coming to an end. With luck I will spend the evening with my old friend Anders. He's a bit of will o' the wisp character, dark and brooding and hard to pin down but my friend nevertheless. And after I awake tomorrow, likely very late I will brave the roads and return home.

Has your Christmas gone smoothly? Rarely does anyone respond on here to my inane ramblings but I hope you are all enjoying this annual break from the mayhem of work. Take care out there.

I Heard a Voice

Not Much of a Runner.

Even in my sporting youth I was never much of a runner. Mediocre sprinter yes, but anything other than that was never my forte. And so on Boxing Day down here in Kent I have neglected once again to partake in the epic annual run. This year in fact I'm not even bothering with the day in The Castle Hotel, too tired. It will be a day of rest.

A day late I will once again send season's greetings. Christmas is done. To say ours was somewhat chaotic is something of an understatement. Four cooks in a kitchen with differing views on how to cook is not an omen for harmony, organisation and straightforward team work. We did get there in the end and the food was wonderful.

As we look back on 2016 the world of social media is once again burning up with yet more celebrity deaths. I've never had much interest in the cult of celebrity and certainly was no fan of George Michael but another famous man dying oh so young? And Rick Parfitt with whom I'm less familiar. Is the world of celebrity out of control?

My intention is to stay down here in Kent probably until Wednesday. It is always so hard to keep track of the days at Christmas. Miriam and Nigel are heading home shortly as his sister and family are visiting tomorrow. I'm cheered by the fact I have no work until two weeks today. That is a good thing.

The tense chaos of yesterday is putting a small dampener on my mood, often resilient and lively on Boxing Day I am tired and a little flat. My mood will certainly rise this holiday though.

And for those of you out there kind enough to read my musings, enjoy the rest of the holiday and make cheer with the coming of the New Year.

I Heard a Voice.

Postcard From the Seaside.

England is famous for its seaside holidays. Long before cheap flights to Spain and elsewhere English seaside towns and resorts were the target each summer. We moved as a family to the small Kent seaside town of Hythe when I was just short of my 10th birthday. In those days we still had holiday makers on those glorious summer days and the equally wet ones.

Now in my late 40s I'm back in Hythe. Christmas is almost upon us. My journey passed without too much incident and I'm rushing around with preparations. A large joint of gammon is braising cider. I spent £40 on cheese, dad has lots of wine, the potatoes are bought, the presents are to be wrapped and now just essential subsistence food and vegetables to be purchased.

Beka is full of cold which is very bad timing. I'm off to her mum's shortly to deliver the cheese. And Miriam and Nigel arrive tomorrow. Despite being pretty organised for me my sleep was mightily impaired by those little anxieties that so impact at a time such as this. But for all those anxieties I know it will all work out on the day.

The seaside vibe that those people flocked to long ago is not really in evidence on a windy and gloomy day. But those of us who spent years in these parts gather back together in the season of goodwill.

Last time I was here there were little pangs of wanting one day to return to these parts. Maybe that will happen. Should that ever occur the moving nature of time, people and places will dictate that it will not be as it once was. Come next September a decade will have passed since I moved on. Where will I be in another decade when I'm approaching my 60s? Fate or God may know that, I do not. The grim days of my madness made me believe that I would never get better. Now I relish so much in a way I did not then. Time robs us of some things but gives us others.

For those in preparation for the big event, I hope things run smoothly and no doubt I will put a Christmas message up on Sunday.

I Heard a Voice.

Resting Solstice.

And so it came to pass that on the winter solstice, the shortest day I came to rest. It has been a marathon since it all began back in the last week of September. Barring coldy type stuff that is normal for this time of year I have survived mentally intact. I took but 3 days off. That may sounds bad, I hate taking time off, but given the debacle that has been my last 2 years at work I'm doing okay.

Winter officially starts today so I'm told. I've been enjoying its beauty sporadically on the cold days for a while. Who cares if it's not official until today? Finally as I drove in yesterday after a sharp frost I witnessed my treasured sight of the morning mist rising over the Mimram.

From now until 9th January I am at rest. It is time to recuperate, overindulge and forget the stresses of the world. All the presents are bought but not wrapped yet. When I get to Kent tomorrow afternoon I will turn my attention to food. I have my instructions to buy cheese for the big day. Not my strongest culinary point but I'm learning. The dreaded secret Santa at work that I dread and stress about every year yielded a nice bottle of port. I will probably save that for my return. I also need to think about feeding dad and myself on the other days. The plan is stay in Kent probably until the middle of next week.

When I do return home then it will be over a week of pure laziness. Really needed that time to prepare for the onslaught that will be next term.

As it is Wednesday the TV is off and I'm doing my last opera indulgence before Christmas. It had to be Mozart so Cosi fan tutte will be my focus now. A little reading too I think. Made a start on The Plumed Serpent a couple of weeks ago. I was chatting to Beka's mum Anne about literature last night. I think my next target might be some Dickens which I have never read and another go at Thomas Hardy. All that was lost on a volatile, moody and angry youth that is so befitting a description of me at that time where one's place in the world is so uncertain. God I never want to be a teenager again.

I hope to post from dad's. Until then goodnight.

I Heard a Voice.

Enjoying the Peace.

It wasn't quite my plan to wake so late today. In truth I stayed far too long at The Hedgehog Christmas party. Hard to believe Tony and Josephine will no longer be there in a month. Had a very interesting chat with Sarah one of the regular who it transpires grew up in Shoreham and Lancing at the same time as I was at Lancing College in the 1980s. What a small world and fun to take a trip back to those pubs of 6th Form days, The Amsterdam, The Red Lion, The Sussex Pad, The Crown and Anchor in Shoreham, The Bridge at Upper Beading, The Shepherd and Dog at Faulking, The Nightingale and The Green Dragon in Brighton. I liked looking back fondly on those times.

I didn't feel hungover today, just tired. Sunday service is resumed and I'm enjoying the peace of being away from it all. Haydn is today's composer. I've read most of the paper and am vaguely thinking about cooking. In a fit of overindulgence I had scrambled eggs with smoked salmon for lunch. For tonight a corn fed chicken is on the top coming up to room temperature ready to roast around 4.30 pm or so.

There are but 3 days left before my long earned break. My plan was to try to keep this week simple to catch up . But inevitably that hasn't happened. Sickness and departures are serving to hamper my department. I can't do anything about that but sooner or later reinforcements will be needed. And people need to get well not push too hard for an early return. I have learned that lesson in the past-you can't rush illness.

As I chill in seasonal splendour may you all have a relaxing day too and just think the holiday is but a few days away for those in countries where Christianity is part of the fabric of society. See you soon.

I Heard a Voice.

Remembering Izzi.

This equivalent Saturday a year ago should have been just another Saturday on the road back from a bad relapse. Utterly burned out I had spent several weeks at home medicationed out and desperately trying to work out what to do next. The emptiness of maxed up Risperidone had passed replaced by that exhaustion that has so marked bad times of recent years.

That day I went into town to shop as I do most Saturdays. I don't recall what I bought other than Singapore noodles with Yang in the Fu Hao. As I was wont to do I text my blogging friend Izzi. The last time I had seen her was in there. A silence followed.

Unbeknown to me Izzi was dead. I didn't find out until the following day when her boyfriend posted on her Facebook page that she had had a sudden cardiac arrest and died aged 32.

A year on I'm still trying to make sense of this loss. She was my third friend to die in but a few weeks. One was expected but the other two certainly were not. I guess I will never find an answer to how fate can be so cruel to some and so kind to others.

On this Saturday where the fog has refused to dissipate I am once again preparing for Christmas. I shopped. I had lunch in The Crooked Chimney at Lemsford. I have done the washing. And I will cook a lamb stew shortly. We move on but the memories linger. Thinking of you Izzi.

I Heard a Voice.

The Great Celestial Orbs.

As I drove in this morning the winter fog was rapidly burning off as a surprisingly powerful winter sun shone low in the sky. Hard to believe that there is beauty driving along a motorway as the vista opened out to a marvellous sight.

On my way home overland through poor traffic a mighty yellow moon appeared low in the sky lighting and cheering my otherwise frustrating journey. This full moon was far more impressive than those I commented on in October and November. Reminiscent of Paul Simon's wonderful album Graceland "Joseph's face was as black as the night and the pale yellow moon shone in his eyes". Reminds me I must listen to that again.

Instead to the light of the celestial orbs so impressive in this winter time I listened to the great Orlando Gibbons. It was the final recording under the old regime that ended in 1982. Back to my singing. If we were guilty of anything in those days it was over exuberance which sometimes meant the singing was far too sharp. Some of our recordings are very poor. Our Gibbons one is not. We sang that understated relaxed music of post Reformation England quite well. And those verse anthems with the extraordinary alto solos. That such wondrous music could come from such turbulent times.

As it is Wednesday the opera plays at home and my book awaits. I've kind of lost track of days this week. Yesterday I was not at my best. Not quite what I wanted for my friend Mala's leaving party. Although I do not like The Wellington at Welwyn after some awful meals there in the past they surpassed themselves with the food. Let down by the beer though, how can a pub not cater for supplies of ale at Christmas?

The highlight was not the food but rather Mala's beautifully elegant leaving speech. She spoke of each of us in turn without notes and how we had impacted on her life. I came last and felt quite fearful of being that other in that group but I was touched by what she did say despite difference. I will miss her.

What will tomorrow bring? More of today I hope as we move towards the shortest day of the year. That full moon has brightened today considerably.

I Heard a Voice.

A Week Too Late.

The best part of a week had gone since the publication of the review of the restaurant Temper in The Sunday Times by the time I read it. That week's critic was a woman called Lisa Markwell. I've not come across her before. It's not a bad review but for me is eminently forgettable. Forgettable but for the last line. That line read simply "A A Gill is away". As I read last night the great critic, journalist, wit and alcoholic A A Gill was already dead.

He announced a couple of weeks ago what he called "the full English" breakfast of cancer. His final review in the paper was of the magnificent Magpie Cafe in Whitby home of some of the finest fish and chips in the world. I have long admired his brutal honesty and frankness however much it annoys people. Sometimes we need to tell the truth.

I will miss his work in my weekly dabble with the paper. And the world will miss him.

Some weeks ago my friend Mala mentioned something that I think was called the dark side identified by the psychotherapist Carl Jung. Not the dark side of Star Wars fame but the unsaid that people all know is true but never speak about. I'm often guilty of enlightening the dark side with my sometimes cynical and jaded comments on the world I work in. A former friend who was a retired fireman told me they survived the grim reality with a kind of dark and macabre humour. Sometimes I get into trouble for it but many do appreciate it.

That is perhaps the only thing I have in common with the aforementioned critic who moved in very different circles to me.

Back on another Sunday the paper lies unread. Much of its content will talk of this man. I will relish it as he is no more.

Until next time.

I Heard a Voice.

Dark and Dismal.

Not the most enticing of days. Wet, dark and dismal it is the sort of winter day that interests me not at all. The fog of earlier has lifted replaced by fine drizzly rain and gathering gloom. Despite all that I did go out. To the butcher to deliver them some Christmas beer after they looked after me all year. I came out with a pheasant for tomorrow and some pork tenderloin to stir fry with chilli and basil. That was closely followed by an early lunch at The Waggoners, hearty wild boar sausages with green beans and cheesy mash. Just what I needed on this dank day. And finally to town for Christmas shopping and more food. The former was not overly successful aside from something for Beka. Also managed to get some Christmas wine for my friend John who so ably ferries me around throughout the year.

Back home now I'm actually quite pleased with the day despite all the miserable outlook on this weekend so near to Christmas. Another week is down and I survived. My mood is fairly buoyant, probably around plus 2 on my scale. My break is looming and certainly needed.

If I  look back to my posts of late summer and early autumn you will get a glimpse of the fear and anxiety I felt about another academic year. Yet it was wasn't to be. Surprising myself totally it has gone well. Not quite the mini mania of my early years. A year ago I was ready to walk. Now I'm tired but still surfing the crest rather than deluged by the storm that is student mental health.

And with that I will leave you. Perhaps a film is on the cards tonight. Have a good one yourselves.

I Heard a Voice.

Thin Ice.

A thin layer of ice partially traversed the surface of the lake on this bitterly cold day. The pale sun shone but there was little cheer. On my travels I had walked my healthy 10,000 steps per day by about 11.30 this morning. It is good to see the winter as we head closer to the holiday.

Busy summed today up. I did have a cancellation which allowed me to do a little catching up. The last meeting of the day finally shed some light on that tricky subject of extenuation. I hate being asked for evidence letters as suddenly I have people's future in the power of my hands. Not a good place and as it transpires more complex than some had believed before we met. I doubt we will ever resolve that issue but it was good to at least highlight it.

Monday evening brought rare ribeye steak and a glass of claret. Chatted to dad who is not at his best at the moment. Let's hope for an upturn before Christmas. Now it's time to catch up on the late NFL game. I watch far too much really but it only lasts 4 months of the year so I am time limited.

I'm looking forward to my Christmas break. Feel in need of a rest. My very late one yesterday had a bad knock on effect last night. Did not feel rested after taking some time to get to sleep. Must be more disciplined in not overdoing things. Rest a recuperation is long overdue. Just 2 1/2 weeks to go then I'm done. We need to have a rest.

I Heard a Voice.

Sleep, Sleep, Sleep.

Much of today has been devoted to sleeping. I really must try to get to bed earlier of a weekend as gone 2 am is too late. The upshot is I slept the sleep of the dead and failed to emerge until lunch time. It doesn't really matter I suppose but feels a little as if I'm wasting my life away.

Without that precious sleep though my abilities to keep my illness at bay would be severely curtailed. The greatest indicators of relapse are insomnia, not having enough time to catch up and managing my stress. Most of the time I succeed but I can leave nothing to chance.

It's clear but chilly out. My flat is lovely and warm and the smell of pork roasting brings a lot of pleasure. In my folly of too many pints of Doombar in the pub I now have 3 guests coming for dinner. It will all be fun but a lot of clearing and tidying is required to allow us all to sit down. This flat is nowhere near as convenient for entertaining as the legendary No 2 Chapel Street my previous abode back in my days of Kent. All seems a long time ago now.

The new week will no doubt be just as busy as all those that have gone by already but we are near the end. I will have just over 2 weeks for my holiday. Time to sleep, see people, cook, and recuperate. After the marathon that has been this term it is certainly needed.

Enjoy your Sunday everyone. There seem to be a lot of you tuning in to my musings at the moment, viewing figures have been really good.

I Heard a Voice.

Changing of the Guard.

Although I have known for about a week or so I have thus far not commented on the sale of The Hedgehog. It has been on the market for some months now and what looked a done deal a few weeks ago failed at the last hurdle. All went quiet then but behind the scenes a buyer was in the wings. And now the deed is done.

In a changing of the guard Tony and Josephine who have so kindly looked after me for the last years will make way from a South African gentleman called Francois and his wife. I'm told he is a big rugby fan although I'm not sure a shrine to the Springboks will work in wilds of Knightsfield. I approve of the rugby though.

Talking of which England and Australia have just kicked off at Twickenham which will be my afternoon's entertainment.

Thus far today is just another Saturday. Butcher, town, lunch and chilling. Pork will return in slow roast glory tomorrow and for tonight I have some fresh sardines that I'll simply fry with seasoned flour, some potatoes and perhaps a salad of tomatoes and cucumber. In a sop to responsible living rather than my usual decadence I did manage some washing and cleaning today as well. As I said to the young people on Wednesday these dull tasks must be learned and practised even if other things are far more alluring. Jobs must be done. It gives me a minor sense of not being too lazy after all.

Time now to watch the match. See you next time.

Frosted Fields and Glistening Sun.

An icy crunch has greeted me each morning in the car park by my flat and pale winter sunlight glistening in the frosted fields as I set off for work in the early part of this week. It may only be 1st December today but winter came a few days early. My travels haven't taken me to the lake by my old office for a while but I guess it was partially frozen over.

This week is nearly done. It has been one of wonderment, memories, anxiety, small triumphs and a hesitant I told you so. Wonderment at the beauty of winter nature. Memories of 2012 when on consecutive days I had a job interview elsewhere then did my most high profile mental health crisis management effort in my time at the university. The interview failed despite private links suggesting I should have got it. I've never been offered one since. And it doesn't get much more high profile than the Vice Chancellor's office.

It would be great to suggest I have moved on from that week. But I'm still where I am doing what I can. The little triumphs come most weeks. In this case my talk at the school that I had been so apprehensive of went so well. And such helpful people. As for the I told you so moment, people may criticise my sometimes not overwhelmingly endorsing of everyone I see, but in most cases I am dead right to be wary. For all I do to champion the mentally ill some do too little to help themselves then blame anyone but themselves. Giving advice that may not be what people want to hear does not always equate to being a unsupported as some plead. Usually we learn that lesson to our cost, you have to have been burned many times to be as cynical as I am on occasion.

Yet on this cold Thursday evening I'm home and doing okay. I turned to Offenbach today, a purveyor of more comic opera than some that I listen to. Back at school I played-very badly-in the orchestra for a performance of La Belle Helene. Tonight I'm revisiting this fun work.

As it was pay day I was a little overindulgent and bought some books. I don't need either of E M Forster's A Passage to India nor Ken Hom's Complete Chinese Cookbook but in my profligacy I bought them anyway. Catch you all the weekend.

I Heard a Voice.

So What Next?

Little has changed with my most recent malady since I posted yesterday. My voice is a guteral and sore bass, the cough continues and on any given moment I almost expect to launch forth in another sneezing fit. Not good. Waking around 7.00 am it was clear I was no use to man nor beast so I called in and announced my absence. I was in bed all morning in the end.

When I finally emerged a brief foray brought lunch and something to cook later. Will the iron in my piece of liver hasten a recovery enough for Wednesday? I sincerely hope so.

For now though at least I'm in the warm, a recording of Mendelssohn's Elijah is on the radio and I made a little progress on my reading. I managed to complete Graham Greene's Our Man in Havana on Saturday. Looking at my pile of unread books I chose D H Lawrence's The Plumed Serpent as my next classic author adventure. Who said education finished at school and university? My literary education continues each and every week as I seek respite from the demands of daily life and incessant staring at screens.

My mood has been surprising unaffected by this cold and the frustration that brings. Once again my mood diary is far behind my present so need to attend to that at some point. My GP was most pleased with how things are going mentally when we met a few weeks ago. There is little time left before I can rest and recharge. As they say touch wood for luck but I have nearly made it through the gruelling opening term of year 10. Oh how the University has changed in that time. I sometimes have a fond nostalgia for what once was. But it truth each and every year has brought its share of immense challenge and rocky nerves. But I'm still there. And cold aside going strong.

I Heard a Voice.

Match Abandoned.

I had been really looking forward to singing "Lo He Comes With Clouds Descending" at the church of St Francis of Assisi on the Parkway this evening. Not sung that epic hymn since Ledger's funeral in December 2012. But it was not to be. After a difficult coughing and spluttering night I decided to abandon my plan for the day forego the Advent Carol Service.

In truth if I'm going to appear at Stanborough School on Wednesday I need to husband what is left of my voice. Although it is only a cold and nothing worse I feel pretty poor and have little or no motivation to do much. Of course I have to eat and after some consideration to the contrary I took the plunge and did make my lunch time booking at The White Hart. The roast beef was so pink Beka would have been delighted by it. And she knows all about good beef.

Back at home I listened to our 1979 recording of the Procession and Carols for Advent Sunday. But now what? Not got much energy left so I think I will just root myself on the sofa and stare at the TV for a few hours. They have a Rick Stein day on the Food Channel so that is good and the NFL awaits later.

And what of tomorrow? If I feel as I do now I'm staying home. Let us hope that occasion doesn't transpire.

I Heard a Voice.

A Lost Voice.

Given that my work involves a lot of talking, I'm going to an Advent Carol Service tomorrow and am doing as presentation in a school on Wednesday now is not really the time to be losing my voice. Sadly that is precisely what has happened. A night of sleep interrupted several times by incessant sneezing was not a good a sign in the early hours of Friday morning.

Come Saturday my throat was sore, my voice had dropped an octave or so and the sneezing intensified it is not going well. It is just a cold and I don't feel ill but the timing could seriously have been better.

On the plus side it is the weekend, I'm indoors out of the cold, I have a Chinese braised beef dish with garlic underway from Yan Kit So and I don't have to get up in the morning. Britten's opera Billy Budd is on the radio at 5.45 so a night of culture awaits. Not an opera I have ever heard.

Last night brought some old memories as Rick Stein visited Cadiz. A rather crumbling city when I visited in 1993 to sing. It was still in the bad days of my illness but I recall the nets catching falling masonry in the cathedral, seafood so fresh is was still alive, chronic sunburn on the windy Sunday afternoon beach break and a long journey home. There were not many Brits there in those days. I wonder if Mr Stein's visit changes that.

I will leave you on this chilly night with the thought that Christmas Eve is but four weeks away, the shops are crowded and there is still so much to do. But I will stay warm, rest my voice and indulge in a little escapism for a weekend.

Hot as Hades.

I returned to my love of Thai food tonight. I don't really know any Thai people so their legendary capacity to eat chillies hot as Hades has never been witnessed first hand by me. But by God was tonight's chilli hot! I suspect it burned as it was a raw garnish rather than battered in a paste or cooked over high heat. But I was burning and made the mistake of rubbing my eye. Won't be doing that again in a hurry.

Being Wednesday my evening has just been lit up by the Queen of the Night from The Magic Flute. The last couple of days as I have been on my travels it has been the music of William Byrd and his 16th century peers both from post reformation England but also Catholic Spain and Italy. Not that Italy really existed then but the greatness of Palestrina represented that part of Europe. Are my attempts at culture mere add ons to my chaotic life? If nothing else it gives me an escape.

The demands of daily expectation have been just that in recent weeks, demanding. Every time I try to carve some space the phone rings, a vital e mail comes in and yet more people line up to seek my advice. It is at those times of uncertainty that my self belief can waver and my anxiety start to fight me.

But with 3 1/2 weeks to go I'm still fighting back rather than falling apart. In the main I am in control. Having that keeps me from the ravages of my old madness. So the culture both visual, aural and taste play their part. It can be a good life if we can hang onto those precious things.

I Heard a Voice.

The Brave and Foolhardy.

Gazing out on another bleak day I see nothing that will entice me away from the warmth of my flat. A night of heavy rain and continuous morning drizzle has left the outside world only to the brave and foolhardy.

I woke a little earlier today after yet another night staying up too late. Had a lovely evening with Jo in the curry house then met some new friends in the pub. How quickly this weekend has gone. A light lunch of pork pie and salad was sufficient to sate my hunger along with a very sweet pear. I'm looking forward to what I hope will be very rare beef later. I invited Richard along to join me. So an evening of good food and fine wine looks on the cards.

Thus far I have avoided looking at my diary for the week. Off the top of my head I may have some breathing space then but those windows for catch up do seem to close oh so quickly. I have my talk at a local school coming up a week on Wednesday. Must carve out some time to prepare for that.

In the meantime, music illuminates this dull afternoon, Don Giovanni at the moment. Might perhaps move onto Handel later. I'm in for the duration now, the hours ticking by until that dreaded moment of the alarm going off and another week beginning.

Will see you all in the week.

I Heard a Voice.

Don't Shout at Me!

The latter part of this week seemed to have been defined by semi hostile communication. A number of communications served to irritate me. It is so unnecessary to send hostile or aggressive e mails and troubled calls. It is fine to advise me if it is in my power to sort a problem out. But I don't respond well to being metaphorically shouted at.

This all left me somewhat on edge last night which rather dampened an otherwise splendid evening. Lots of friends out and about last night. Lots of beer, lots of laughter and lots of re-connections. I must have been tired after that as I woke up very late.

Not much unusual to report on a quiet Saturday. My fridge is restocked, the cleaning is done, the rugby is on and I'm thinking about tea. Tonight I'm off to The Neem Tree with my friend Jo. Some time since I saw her so looking forward to that.

Tomorrow brings rare roast beef, a glass of Rioja, some reading and a switch off day. Scary that we are getting so close to Christmas. The good news though is that despite the late week hostility I'm still going well and staying clear of last year's meltdown. Let us hope in these final weeks of term I can remain riding the crest of the wave rather than being deluged and drowned by it.

I Heard a Voice.

Werewolves and Lunatics.

The power of the moon has been observed, celebrated, revered and written about by science and folklore for thousands of years. I'm not sure science is any more correct about that awesome power than folklore. Stories of men turning in wolves and lunatics howling at the full moon seem just that, tall stories.

Yet after a typically dull, grey, damp November day the clouds have given way to the celestial illumination of a Supermoon tonight. The press tells me the moon is closer to the earth than at any time since 1948.

The strange thing is for all my love of yet scepticism for folklore I can report that people I have met who really are at their worst at full moon. Can science provide an answer to wild mood swings and literal lunacy on these days? Plenty I know swear that is the case.

In what passes for my career today at least I have not seen any extra evidence of that impacting on those who came through my office. But who am I to say.

What I do believe, for what it is worth, is that my 26 years psychiatric history is it is by no means a science and provides no more legitimate reasons for this phenomenon than folklore does.

A beautiful illuminated night is a thing of wonder. I'm glad the clouds parted and allowed me to witness the awesome power of bodies way beyond my understanding.

I Heard a Voice

Deceptively Simple.

Some days little simple things make all the difference. The sun has come out after the gloom of yesterday. I slept long and my tiredness has abated. And a simple lunch of floured and seasoned sprats gently fried has had a restorative effect on me. So far removed from what happened in the week.

Today is the day we remember the war dead. Services take place all over the country. Gary's submariner father will do his bit as ever, he comes from Canada every year. I wonder what is made of those who died in the countries who fought against the Allies? They must be mourned too. The poppy field are resown for another year.

So what to do on this day? No opera, just the radio for the time being. My neighbour Richard is coming later to help me with my car-I'm the least practical person on the planet hence the need for help with everything. Should we then drive to a country pub? It is too nice a day to stay indoors for the duration.

I must remember in the week to do my mood diary. Yes there have been 3 blips in the last few weeks which I recorded on here but subsequently mainly let go. That is what I must do, let go. I think I'm in good shape. I haven't had to raise my Risperidone for several months. Pray that will continue.

At some point this week I must start preparing a talk I'm delivering in a local school at the end of the month. It is a tall order speaking alongside such a high profile campaigner as Jonny Benjamin. But I will do my best.

Enjoy your Sunday everyone and may your week be fruitful and fun.

I Heard a Voice.

No Room at the Inn.

On a grey, wet and gloomy day what better to do after the shopping than a pint in country pub with a roaring fire, fine company and good ale. Well that didn't quite go to plan. Arriving at The Waggoners in steady rain only to find it packed to the rafters, I found no room at the inn as they say. Shame as I fancied seeing my friends there again.

Instead I drove over to The Cowper Arms, a pub within walking distance of my flat but one I haven't visited for some time. The ale was less good, I don't know anyone and couldn't get near the fire. But it was good all the same.

After my rocky week I'm on dry land now. Yesterday there was a little clarity given to me, I've only waited 9 years for that. Time will tell as we look to the future. I never hold my breath but let us be hopeful.

Back at home it was washing and cleaning that took a little time. Dull I know but really needed to be done. I have the England South Africa rugby on, comfortable lead for us at least at present. After that it is on to the kitchen.

The greyness of today needs hearty fare so I will be doing a beef and ale casserole once the rugby finishes. Proper English cold weather tradition. Tomorrow brings a light lunch of sprats so beloved by my mum. And then a slow roast lamb shank. I have some nice Rioja to go with that and a good bottle of Adnam's ale to go with my casserole.

After my travels of recent weeks it is quite nice to be home. No pressure just keeping warm and appreciating the moment.

I Heard a Voice.

A Cataclysmic Disaster?

The nature of democracy is that everyone who is eligible gets a vote and there is an outcome. The people speak and some get the result they want and some don't. And so Donald Trump will be the 45th president of the United States of America. Who am I to presume the wishes of those who voted for him are any more right or wrong than those that voted against him. Of the many people from the USA who visit my humble offerings on here I hope you all managed to vote for it a precious right that we in the "free world" get and many others don't.

What a momentous year 2016 has been. I have many friends on my social media who might describe themselves or be described as "Liberal Lefties". They are all up in arms and outraged by the result just as they were by the vote to leave the EU in June. You cannot undo what a majority voted for because you don't like the result.

Like the EU vote there seems to have been a vile, divisive and hateful campaign waged. And Mr Trump has many wounds to heal. What none of us know just as on that day in June is exactly what happens next.

There has been way too much hatred and bigotry but it has been a year in which large numbers of voters chose to attack and dismiss what is often referred to as the Establishment. And that is the power democracy has.

I have no idea if either Mr Trump or Mrs May actually have a clear plan on the future. Let us hope they find a plan to avoid what so many see as a series of cataclysmic disasters.

Away from the big world my passage has been pretty bumpy in the last few days. It has been a mighty long week and my ship hit a very large iceberg yesterday. I'm not sinking but I'm questioning whether I should still be in this business. Can I hang onto the good not the bad? The lesson though is I need to be more circumspect when it comes to pointing out psychiatric realities as it can get me into trouble. Perhaps a dignified silence may be the approach in future.

But it is Wednesday and that means reading and music. Verdi and The Undertones accompanied my car journeys and now Mozart as so often accompanies my evening. With that I will leave you and return to Graham Greene.

I Heard a Voice.

Reflections on the Water.

I really ought to take another stroll down to the beach. On a crisp, sunny November day I have no doubt the beautiful reflection of the light on the water would be worth seeing. When I walked down yesterday there was a dangerous brooding sky with a mere glimpse of sun, a bleak but stunning view which I tried and failed to adequately record on my phone camera.

The end of my latest visit to Kent is nigh. Dad is at church and I'm roasting a chicken. Different ovens take a while to get used to but I think I'm getting the hang of it. It has been nice to be away and all of 9 years since I left I felt the first pang of wanting to come back here.

Funny really I never regarded Hythe as home growing up. I had after all left for boarding school a week after my 9th birthday and began 13 years as an itinerant nomad. The result was finally forced back here by circumstance I was utterly isolated. What happened next is widely known. Years later as I fought to overcome what I called paranoia but was really more akin to extreme anxiety Hythe eventually enveloped me as one of its own. Then I left again.

Who knows if I will ever move back this way. Maybe never. But for a short while I was back and part of it. It has never been the most exciting place but it has some good.

For the second week in a row I'm expecting a difficult journey home. Have to get a bus from Alexandra Palace. Didn't have time to check trains this end. But home I will get then it will be time to face off to week 7 of this academic year. Last week's rage aside I'm still doing okay. See you all in the week.

I Heard a Voice.

Blazing Fires and Walking Away.

Ever get those days when your rage is so great your mind is on fire? Blazing emotion and fiery anger is not a good combination and certainly not for making statements on here that may one day come back to haunt me. The art is learning to walk away and fight another day.

That fire was burning out of control when I came home yesterday and robbed me of precious sleep. Naked fury at once again being expected to create a miracle yet at the same not accept and to challenge the lies I was being told. I never came into this business to have power over people. And still I have no power. And that is fine as long the responsibility is not overwhelming. Yet in my job it often is. The anger comes when I'm in an impossible situation that I can do nothing about.

A day later and having calmly seen my GP-not seen him for a year-I'm home, calm, warm and reflective. There are better things to think about than liars.

On this date in 2011 we held the launch of A Pillar of Impotence in Kent. As fate would bequeath I only saw mum twice more before she died. On that day she smiled in a way I had rarely seen and put aside her anguish. It was that night that I healed the years old rift between us. Who would have thought a book that some regard as angry, some as gentle but all as a life changing experience could have done that. I'm glad I made peace with mum before she died.

After work I will head back down that way to Kent. It will be my first visit since July. See dad, old friends and my cousin Cedric and his partner Barbara. It will mark the half way point in this term. And despite yesterday I'm still standing, managing and occasionally thriving. And that is some achievement given where I was a year ago.

I Heard a Voice.

An Avenue of Gold.

I'm certain that had I driven in this morning the mist would have been rising over the river. That I wasn't there to see it was testament to the power of taking a day out post Katherine's wedding.

It has been a funny few days. A bad day at work on Friday did not help my mood. Going to places I don't know always makes me anxious so going across London for the first time in an Uber Taxi was an experience. The wedding went gloriously. I saw old friends and met new ones.

Back at Beka's we were joined by the magnificent Katie from Bristol. And we lunched in splendour on the banks of the Thames at high tide in an old pub called The Trafalgar Tavern right next to the old Naval College. It was a most pleasant Sunday.

The journey back was dreadful but I made it in the end. And now to a Monday off. I have been out for shopping, to get my hair cut and to raid the butcher. A glorious sight driving down the golden avenue of trees along Digswell Road on a marvellous autumn day when the sun popped out to shine. It is days like today that I really appreciate the seasons and nature.

No surprise that this afternoon will be devoted to opera and reading. A little lunch first I think then back to Our Man in Havana which I'm enjoying very much.

All too quickly though I will return and see what residual damage there is left over from Friday. I didn't exactly cover myself in glory but sadly sometimes that happens when my warnings are not heeded. They pay me to give advice but are under no obligation to follow that advice. See you all in November.

I Heard a Voice.

That Night in the Week.

I'm doing what I always promise not to do on a Wednesday evening. Namely looking at screens. It is my night off all that to catch up on my reading and listen to cultured music. Tonight it is Handel, a fine recording of Belshazzar. I only noticed as I was taking the CD out of the box that it features Arleen Auger. I once sang with her many years ago. It was on probably our worst recording although she was amazing. Well not quite, she made a mistake in the first line of the first take. I suppose even the greats get things wrong sometimes.

You find me music aside mainly recovered from last week's malady although the sore throat and cough are stubbornly hanging on. Mentally I'm in good shape. An occasional irritant comes along but I'm setting those aside better. It is shaping up to be possibly the busiest work year ever. And I thought it couldn't get any worse than last year. But I'm still sailing serenely most of the time and riding the occasional wave that threatens to knock me off course.

The cooking of which I wrote last time I was on here did not exactly go to plan. The rabbit stew needed much more cooking so was rather tough. What's left has been cooked more and resides in the fridge mingling. I will pass that on to my neighbour Richard later. In contrast the Gloucester Old Spot sausages were great.

As I'm away at the weekend I have little in stock. Katherine's whirlwind wedding is on Saturday. She sought so long to find someone then a chance party brings a face from the past and I hope the rest will be history. I will stay at Beka's although the arrangements are a little tricky as she has double booked Friday night. I may be left prowling the streets of Greenwich for a couple of hours then.

Just a few days and Halloween will herald the end of October. Will that bring the cold finally? We will see.

I Heard a Voice.

Carpet of Leaves.

The virus that held me in a vice like grip for several days is doing its best to hang on to me. That grip has loosened a little but I'm not clear yet. As each day comes I learn of more and more friends affected by it. My manager ended up being off all week after Monday. I did make it in yesterday but it was extremely hard going. And I'm tired, oh so tired. The strange viral dreams continue making me less certain when I woke after troubled sleep.

I made it up by 10 am today. Partly because I was so fed up of the dreams and partly because Rick Stein was hosting Saturday Kitchen. Coffee and Stein accomplished I ventured delicately out into the world.

Whilst I live on a housing estate I do not have to walk or drive far to be in the country. And how beautiful that the county is now adorned by a carpet of russet, red, gold and yellow leaves. It may be colder at night but this autumn has not been too bad. Not seen any morning mist sadly but out there I appreciate the season.

On my travels I picked up a rabbit to make into stew on Monday. I've only ever cooked rabbit once but it was great. I think I will stew it in game stock with bacon, onions, thyme, bay and juniper then serve with some mashed potatoes and carrots. Also got some Gloucester Old Spot sausages the love of which I have written of before.

Tomorrow there will be no opera as my beloved LA Rams are playing at Twickenham in the afternoon. I was offered a ticket but at £80 it seemed an expensive afternoon out. So the TV will suffice.

The weekend is there for the taking but I lack the energy do much more than that. See you soon.

I Heard a Voice

Created Equal.

As I shivered under the duvet and drifted in and out of sleep my mind decided to play tricks on me. Slightly fevered that is never a good sign for the mind. I abandoned my plan to return to work around 7.30 am when it was clear the coughing hadn't shifted, a fever had set in and I felt generally pretty awful.

Through the haze of affected sleep a dream of mum in her younger days came to me. It is strange that even 4 1/2 years since she died I still dream of her alone but not of dad alone. She read my writing and suddenly had a vision into my world that she never achieved during her life time. She understood and we connected and communicated. And that brought a contentment for that brief moment. Dreams are but fleeting.

Deeply troubled for all of my life that I remember mum was a complex and ultimately tortured figure. She saw little beyond her way of thinking. I do not know why she was as she was but it made her deeply unhappy. In the last years of her life her anxiety was so great she could barely get through days sometimes. And now she is gone.

As that dream faded my mind moved onto communications and connections. Back in the summer of 1989 I spent a few weeks in Cambridge during what was known as the Long Vacation. Part of that at Selwyn was the annual Fellows and Staff versus Students cricket match. For all my love of cricket I'm terrible at playing it. But I was seconded into the Fellows and Staff team as they were a man short. On my team was a young man the same age as me. He was an ordinary young man who grew up in Cambridge. Like all young men he needed a job and he was a gardener. Part of what the college called their "servants". A vile way of describing anyone.

In the months that followed each time I saw that young man I stopped to chat as I would with anyone. One day he said to me that "you are the only student who ever talks to me". What a sad and crass world we arrogant students lived in. To ignore a man our equal and not our inferior.

For all my many faults and my undoubted arrogance of those days I'm so glad I could connect and communicate.

Why that memory came back to me in my fever I do not know. Neither do I know what happened to the gardener who by now will be middle aged like me. I'm glad I was able to connect with him. For all men and women are created equal whatever our backgrounds and chances in life. I hope we can all remember that.

I'm hoping the fever will break soon. Really need to get back to reality.

I Heard a Voice.

Scything Through the Office.

A mystery illness is cutting swathes through my office at work. Flu? No. Viral? Probably. Unpleasant? Certainly. Debilitating? Absolutely.

What started as a low level cold for me a couple of weeks ago has evolved into something a bit more sinister. Had I not been teaching yesterday I would most certainly have stayed home. Indeed my manager and one of our administrators were felled yesterday. I'm felled today. Who else tomorrow? Barely able to speak when I woke at 6.15 am and wracked by constricted throat, awful cough and violent sneezing I left a message in the office and went back to bed.

After finally emerging I briefly ventured out for lunch and a foray to buy food. Home now I'm exhausted. Cocooned against the shivers I plan to do little but listen to Choral Evensong on the radio this afternoon. An attempt to cook will be made later then rest, rest and rest. It will run its course.

I'm saddened that my run of recent success and better wellbeing has been temporarily halted. There is so much to do there. I should have seen 6 people today as it certainly hasn't slowed down. There is also a crisis brewing to which people think I am the answer. Yet all I have are words. I cannot solve everything.

Feeling bad aside yesterday's teaching was a great success. All this despite the throat problems. I do like doing some teaching every now and again but each time I always fear I will run out of material. Teaching is so hard if people don't respond. I guess that is the challenge, getting people to talk.

I shall retire to the sofa now. Do keep well out there and avoid this lurgy for it is not nice.

I Heard a Voice.

Duped by Fear.

Hi again for the second time this weekend. It's late afternoon on another Sunday. Opera is nearly complete, the pheasant is coming up to room temperature for roasting later and I have a nice bottle of Syrah to go with it.

In truth though I'm restless. I didn't sleep well as my anxiety was raised after yesterday. As I noted anxiety can be the great deceiver and so it transpired today when I did some digging I had once again been duped by my mind running to endless possibilities none of which turned out to be true. The outcome of yesterday's call has cost me money, I knew it would. But it is not the catastrophe I feared. Why do I think like this?

That residual feeling remains as if robbed of the rest I crave. It is just a bit of turbulence in my battle through what is in front of me.

Time must be marching on as I'm told half term starts at the end of this week. I also learned from reading my horoscope that the full moon is today and not last night as I thought. A fine line out but beautiful anyway.

There is a governors' meeting with the Trust tomorrow. I cannot devote as much time as they deserve given how manic the day time job can be. But I do my little bit when I can.

Have a good week all who read this. I will be back soon.

I Heard a Voice.

Autumn Moon.

The rain was teeming down as I stepped of the 18.05 from London King's Cross. Within an hour or so the rain had stopped and the clouds had dissipated to reveal a glorious autumn full moon. Yes we are well under way for what my chums in the States call the Fall. I like October. And with 3 weeks down of the new year at work I'm still thriving.

My reason for being in town was threefold. To shop at Borough Market. To meet my friend Nessa. And to confront the demons of out joint past. And what an afternoon we had. The Grapes as we once knew it, glorious food in the market, late lunch at Brindisa where I went on my birthday with dad an Beka.

I came home sated, poorer and in some respects contented. After all who can resist roast pheasant for Sunday lunch, good bacon for a sandwiches and beef for stew from the Ginger Pig, wrinkly tomatoes, orange cauliflower and incredibly expensive organic baby carrots, followed by marvellous tapas? It should all have been a glorious day.

Yet there was a big but. There are some people on my phone list I dread hearing from. It always leads to trouble or expense or both. And today as I indulged as lunatics only can do I had a missed call from him. My anxiety which to be honest had been stirred earlier in the week on what I suspect was the same matter is just about in check. But I know tomorrow I need to hear the message. Anxiety is the great deceiver. But it can also foretell the truth. I hope the truth is not what I fear but no good ever comes from that source.

So tomorrow may undo all the good of recent weeks. And now, just a few beers, a catch up in The Hedgehog shortly and sleep. Let us hope the latter comes easily.

I Heard a Voice.

It is With Great Sadness Another Tragedy.

On this day every year we celebrate mental health and think of all those affected by it. World Mental Health Day is meant to highlight, educate and speak out about mental health. As my friend Alex put it on Facebook earlier "I am Alex, a man with depression".

I have been speaking out about mental illness for many years most recently of course through this blog. So to reiterate I am Mark and I have a mental illness. That illness has been called many things most of which were unhelpful but I hope that by my work and writings and speaking I can in some small way enlighten, challenge and do my little bit to bring about change.

Sadly on this day of celebration another tragedy has struck which will no doubt bring out another witch hunt. A world famous academic stabbed to death by a psychotic man. That man was a young Nigerian student haunted by voices and delusions fuelled by cannabis. Such tragedies are thankfully rare but as his grieving widow calls for an enquiry I know what it will say before it is even opened.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-london-37609475

Schizophrenia, drug and or alcohol use, stopped taking medication and agencies failing to talk to each other. We simply cannot lock up everyone or indeed honestly and safely assess risk. I have to assess risk all the time. Most of the time I do it well but there is always that one one gets wrong.

Tonight those in the mad community are saddened and frightened of what happens next. Mental illness can be so cruel.

Yet I cannot dwell tonight on immense sadness. I must continue to live. And with that life Verdi brightens up my mood, fine wine soothes my anguish and the steak was beautifully rare. Another day done and I must move on to the next. In my rage of the early years of my madness I never believed I would ever achieve the relatively tranquil state of this Monday night.

I Heard a Voice

Good Food, Good Wine and Good Rest.

Sunday is here again. I'm still sneezing away but feeling better than I did yesterday. I slept long and have had a gentle day. I returned to Puccini to join me as I read and am now continuing my recent strings obsession with Mozart Violin Sonatas. Funny but to me this could almost have been written by Beethoven rather than Mozart. Oh well, I'm a fan of both so can appreciate such similarities.

The short time I did venture to shop on Friday I found some nice wines on offer. Still pricey but splashed out anyway. So with my wonderful lemon sole yesterday I had a glass of Oyster Bay Sauvignon Blanc and today with my lamb that is slow roasting a glass of Chateauneuf Du Pape. Such buys are only really made by me at Christmas but sometimes my desire gets the better of my bank balance.

Fed, wined and rested the weekend will I hope come to a fine finale before going back into battle tomorrow. There is an awfully long way to go but I'm determined to try to avoid the meltdowns of the last 2 years and make this a year of progress not regression.

Miriam has been visiting dad this weekend. I'm hoping to follow that trail at the beginning of November. It has been too long really. By curious coincidence my cousin Cedric has indicated he will visit dad that weekend too. So hopefully we can have a lovely lunch somewhere in the country.

Until next time.

I Heard a Voice.

The Folly of Youth.

The cold that has been brewing all week finally came out to strike in its full venom this morning. Coughing, spluttering and sneezing I quickly decided to abandon my plan to get the bus to St Alban's. It's not really too bad, just a feeling of being under the weather. The hard part is trying to avoid sneezing when I'm driving. I wasn't entirely successful at that but no major mishaps.

On my short venture out I managed to get Rick Stein's new book which came out on Thursday. Surprisingly Waterstones didn't have a copy. Perhaps they sold out. Afterwards I took a little venture out into the country stopping at The Plume of Feathers at Tewin. It's a favourite of Gary and Ali but it is some time since I was there.

Another week is done. More angry troubled students. I had to stay late to deal with something that came up. I was a sullen, angry, foolish and arrogant youth. But I never did anything that did not have consequences that were manageable. It can be a rude awakening for our young charges and they are now treated as adults. Yes you can do things you couldn't do when younger but you are also responsible. This is an element some of our students really struggle with and can lead to disaster.

The rest of the weekend will be hampered by the cold. Nothing much but I don't feel like doing a lot. I have some lemon sole fillets for my supper. I've been thinking about trying sole for some time. I will do it in the oven with a cream, mace, parsley and lemon sauce courtesy of Stein's Seafood Lovers' Guide. Hope it turns out well. And tomorrow I will have lamb.

Heading off to peruse my new book now. See you soon.

I Heard a Voice.

Patience is a Virtue.

There is something very Morsesque about playing Mozart opera very loudly in the car. I even have a red car although nothing like as grand as his legendary Jaguar. The last few days I have enjoyed first The Magic Flute and now The Marriage of Figaro to accompany my journey to and from work. But today my chill out music was interrupted by an awful journey home.

I'm not the most confident of drivers. I am careful, stick to speed limits and try to follow road instructions as best I can. As I left the campus today I stopped at the keep clear sign and waited. It is there to let the buses in and out. For reasons best known to whoever he was the man behind got terribly irate that he had to wait to turn left. Horn blaring and fist shaking he made me angry. When I got clear on the appalling roundabout by the motorway junction I was cut up even more than normal. Got caught in no man's land at the next motorway junction by someone not knowing where he was going.

By the time I got home I was relieved to escape my car. In times past this interruption of glorious Mozart might have set in motion an evening of irritability. Add on dropping a whole tub of Five Spice and having a pretty disastrous dinner I could have been struggling. But I'm not.

I am sailing serenely on through the chaos. And believe me there has been a lot of chaos. I'm responding to a lot of crises and we have a swollen and turbulent stream of yet more students demanding my attention. All is good despite.

Am I back to my best? Not sure but I know I am dealing with things better. There is a long way to go before I get a chance to rest but so far so good.

Only Tuesday even though it seems later in the week. Tomorrow will come soon enough and we march on. Hope you're all thriving like I am?

I Heard a Voice.

Chasing the Rainbow.

This morning did not dawn very promising. I didn't really see the dawn but when I got up comparatively early for a Saturday I was confronted with steady rain and a noticeably cooler outlook. The night have certainly been chillier, shivered in bed in the week and have now dug out my winter duvet. I ventured out in the rain but bought little.

Stopped at The Waggoners for a nice venison stew on my way back then popped in the butcher. I fancied roast pheasant but they didn't have any. Got some nice pork shoulder instead. A prawn curry will adorn my table tonight, cooking energy is now restored.

This afternoon the sun came out and I expected a rainbow but there was none in sight. Some rather wealthy friends of mine who own a grand Georgian country house posted a beautiful photo of a rainbow over said country house on social media. I really must venture down to Devon some time to visit them. Maybe I will find a rainbow.

A year on from the disastrous opening week to last academic year, after a chaotic and potentially overwhelming start to this year I'm feeling pretty good. It is going as it should, my confidence is not shot yet and I am managing the days much better. Not too much brooding at night either. It is early days but I will break things down each morning, do what I can then come home to be me. That is a wise way forward.

I probably won't blog tomorrow as the NFL is on in the afternoon with Jacksonville and Indianapolis squaring off at Wembley. The usual evening fare of course accompanied by the pork and a glass of two of Medoc. Have a happy Sunday everyone and see you in the week.

I Heard a Voice.

Walking in My Shoes.

The new academic year is now 3 days old. It is Wednesday night and my current interest in Beethoven's String Quartets, no 13 Opus 130 in B Flat Major, carries on. I'm calm and relaxed despite a bumpy 2 days that followed a curiously quiet arrivals weekend and day 1. I'm fine and world is still spinning.

Yes we have had 2 significant crises, the first of which I dealt with with some aplomb. The second passed me by initially as I was teaching. But what a day for my manager who had to step in. An utterly flawed system, the constant buck passing, the panic and frustration were all so evident. By the end of the day she was shattered. That is what it can be like walking in my shoes if only for a day.

Tomorrow I will pick up from there. There are also 9 new referraals waiting. But I'm managing. Oh so different to a year ago.

Early days indeed but I'm growing in some confidence even without the buzzy mini mania of my early days there. I hope I can sustain it.

With that done and cast aside for a few hours my music and reading night has commenced. I didn't manage to start Our Man in Havana the other day as I'd hoped-got stuck into other things. Juggling 2 books and 2 magazines at once does not always work. That's partly why it takes me so long to read books. Add in 5 either live or recorded NFL games a week and my time disappears rapidly. But I must persist. Music and reading are good for me.

And that other great passion of mine, the beef was triumphantly rare, the Chinese dish of cucumber and pork stir fried with chilli bean paste, Szechuan peppercorns, chilli flakes and rice vinegar was magnificent and now I'm run out of cooking steam. With pay day arriving on Friday-the results of recent profligacy and buying spree have been largely repaired-my culinary adventures will continue to give balance to my life. And balance is so very good.

I Heard a Voice.

Not Yet Pensive.

Why do shops always seem to put sales on the week before pay day? It's quite frustrating waiting. I will be reinforced on the bank front next Friday but probably too late for said sale. Not that I really need anything other than a pair of boots but I can be quite profligate at times-the joys of fluctuating mood antics.

Yet my usual Saturday shopping trip was not all despairing. The fridge is full, there is wine in the rack and I'm prepared for what could be a bumpy week.

Facebook can be quite maddening in its reminders of what happened on this day in previous years especially if it brings back bad memories. The post that popped up today was from 2012 a day on which I ended up in A&E with a student on the first day of term. Let's hope there is no repeat of that this year.

Given that we are on the cusp of my 10th year at the University I am not pensive or anxious. I suspect that will come tomorrow but I feel more prepared than for a couple of years. In the early years the new term brought out my mini mania, the buzzy times that I loved and drove me pretty much through until Christmas. Sadly no more.

In my preparation though my journey took me to London yesterday. Finding myself a little early I had a wander and marvelled at the diverse nature of Kilburn, exotic headscarves that look so smart and elegant on the many Muslim women, and dreads and rasta hats on so many men. Found a wonderful halal butcher with whole sheep in the fridge. I do like a good market. The meeting itself had a very positive outcome and will bring us more progress when it all kicks off.

Back to the weekend though, herring fillets for supper, sprats for lunch tomorrow, and roast beef for dinner. Mum grew up in a fishing town and had a love affair with fish all her life. Her excess put me off fish completely for a number of years, just got fed up with it. Slowly though I'm going back to it. And she so loved the fish of autumn, those herrings and sprats. I'm wary of bones but every once in a while I take the plunge. Until next time.

I Heard a Voice.

Taking the Lazy Option.

Rain permitting I normally walk between our two campuses rather than drive or catch the bus. I quite like walking although my post smoking weekend walks have subsided recently. It gives me time to think. Today in an act outrageous laziness I took the bus on a balmy September morning in the sunshine. I simply couldn't be bothered to walk. That said I had walked there and back the previous two days so not an entire week of gratuitous sloth. On the rare occasions I do get the bus I quite enjoy watching the world go by. Really should do it more when visiting other places.

It is now the evening of the Wednesday of my second week back at work and so far I haven't fallen off any cliffs. A couple of things have irritated me but I home with my opera and once I have completed my post I will set about starting Our Man in Havana. My latest escapade.

I kept simple earlier, bangers and mash with peas. But appearances can be deceptive for these were no ordinary sausages. They were Gloucester Old Spot. Is there a more glorious pork breed than the Gloucester Old Spot? I'm sure our wonderful Spanish friends would champion the acorn fed black pigs. And they would be right. But I would put each on the same pedestal of brilliance.

Verdi is my accompaniment tonight as I continue my surprising stability. Funny that I expected this close to the start I would be wracked with anxiety. I'm not though and that can only be a good sign. Mood is a little neutral but I can live with that. I must not forget that so many I have met on my journey never found the magic that for me is Risperidone. Recovery for all we trumpet it is a relative thing. I remained disturbed by the idea that it is a model. More on that soon as I have just been invited once again to teach a number of budding clinical psychology doctors. That will be fun.

And with that I will leave you, the book beckons. See you soon.

I Heard a Voice.

Holding Court.

On my travels yesterday I learned that The White Horse at Burnham Green is changing hands. Tough old life being a publican so who can blame them for moving on. I'm hoping an establishment as old and well used as that remains but in this day and age who knows. Had a very good lunch there yesterday with a simple Caesar salad with ultra fresh crisp lettuce and some lovely marinaded anchovies.

My own efforts in the evening were not quite so successful, too much tamarind in the Rendang and stodgy awful rice. Back on the Sunday route today so a chicken stuffed with half a lemon, some thyme and rosemary has just gone in the oven to roast. Oh so such a splendid idea roast dinners on Sundays.

The Sunday vibe is sticking well today. I've listened to Handel and now moved on to the Coronation Mass. The paper is read and fears for tomorrow are limited.

That lack of fear partially stems from doing something different for a Monday. Once again I will be holding court in a training session. This time it is the Law School coming to hear my words of wisdom. Another huge group though which makes it much harder. Wisdom to convey or not I've rarely had a training session where it didn't go well. Let's hope the next instalment goes just as well.

The rest of the week looks uncomplicated apart from Friday when I have to go to London. There I have to make decision that may have far reaching consequences if I make the wrong call. Left in my hands I have no power to do anything yet once again I have the responsibility. Sometimes that sits very uneasily with me.

I Heard a Voice.

Saturday Chores.

Some days we need to just get on with it. Having neglected my flat during my lovely holiday time turned today towards domestic tedium. Dull but necessary but I now have a clean bathroom, kitchen, less dust and clean sheets.

On to much nicer things I made some Rendang paste which is now fried off with lemongrass and beef skirt, simmering in coconut milk with fine cinnamon from Spice Mountain and tamarind. That will bubble away for the next 2 and 1/2 hours until tender for supper. I actually did well at the butcher with good bacon, Gloucester Old Spot sausages, cheese and a chicken to roast tomorrow.

The week has been okay. I rather underestimated the quarter of the moon in my last post, a couple of days later we were treated to a glorious full moon. Didn't have any related crises at work, you will be surprised how many of us really are lunes. A week in I still feel fairly okay. In a better place than a year ago with some training and knowledge even if extra duties are the last thing I need. We interviewed on Thursday and am praying the woman we offered to will accept-she was that good.

Of course the onslaught won't really start until next weekend. That is when the home students come back and term starts Monday week.

Had a long chat with dad last night, good to speak. Must pay him a visit soon. Miriam is away in Portugal and have missed talking to her. Must rectify that when she is back.

For now though it is time for tea, a little American football from Thursday night and then perhaps a film after my Rendang. Have a good weekend all of you.

I Heard a Voice

Hot Enough Yet?

A pale three quarter moon presides over a still, stifling evening. Night is drawing in on what has been the hottest September day since 1911. That is a very long time. It was a day for Pimm's at the beach and paddling not sitting in an office. My travels took me out and I cooked as I walked. What a day.

I'm back in my reality. A little like the phoney war of 1939 where very little happened we are quietly waiting for the explosion that will be in a fortnight. I got a little bit done but it was hard. Not many people about today so quite laid back. When will it change?

All is not so well in my sporting world. Harlequins and West Ham both lost, the latter in a dismal arrogant disaster. Worse still the newly reformed Los Angeles Rams were truly embarrassed by their hated rivals in San Francisco. I'm still making my way through the 1st quarter and I shudder to think what I will see later. Not a good start.

Despite these setbacks I remain more upbeat than a year ago. I will sit on an interview panel on Thursday that will bring reinforcements. Will it be enough? Any extra helps. A brave new world may be ahead with processes and offerings radically changed. Such changes inevitably take time so maybe when I write next September we will know more.

In the mean time a day at a time. Today brought new boots and simple chicken marinated in thyme, Dijon mustard, honey and rapeseed oil. Good things must be appreciated and each helps me along.

Keep going out there in this heat. See you soon.

I Heard a Voice.

Twice Cooked Pork.

Hello on this lovely Sunday afternoon. How are you all? Hoping those who can are having a day of rest, of fine food and general goodness as the weekend progresses.

And me? I'm home listening to Handel and slow roasting shoulder of pork. My love of pork is well known on this blog but pork roasted 2 days in a row is unusual even for me. The wonderful Szechuan dish twice cooked pork is an all time favourite of mine but today's twice cooked does not refer to that this weekend.

Rather having sublime loin of pork with roast cauliflower yesterday at The Hole in the Wall. For those not in the know it is owned and run by former Masterchef finalist Alex Rushmer and is truly magnificent. Check it out http://www.holeinthewallcambridge.com/ .

Following on in a slightly more amateur way is my own effort at a lovely Sunday dinner. Just seasoned with salt and pepper it will roast for 4 hours on a low heat and be served with roast potatoes and 3 different vegetables which have yet to be selected. I always eat well on a Sunday.

This is a particularly important Sunday though in the sense that after several months break the NFL returns to our screens and each week I'm consumed by 4-5 games to feast my eyes on. I enjoyed Thursday night's efforts from Denver. Of more interest though will be my beloved Rams on late tomorrow night against the hated 49ers. History will be made as the storied Rams franchise plays their first game based back where they belong in Los Angeles.

I'm not too worried about the other reality tomorrow. The alarm as noted yesterday will be a severe test. That is always a given. I haven't looked at any e mails for days so that will be the first task to wade through. I guess the rest we will find out when I get there.

Back to Handel now and more reading.

I Heard a Voice.

Sepia Fades Too.

There are not too many Cambridge Colleges that I have not been in. Some of the graduate colleges like Wolfson, St Edmund's and Hughes Hall have not been on my journey. If I were to have my time again I would have applied to Hughes Hall for the PGCE.

Of the undergraduate colleges only Christ's, possibly Peterhouse-my memory is hazy on that one-and Magdalene are unvisited by me. On Thursday afternoon I strayed in Magdalene territory with a visit to The Pickerel Inn. Magdalene was the last bastion of pure testosterone in Cambridge as it only admitted women in my time there. It was a rugger buggers college in those days full of public school toffs who mourned the passing and the fall of masculinity in their college.

The Pickerel as I suspected is adorned with Magdalene sporting photos from the 1990s. Not long after I was there yet before most of my students were actually born. All those pictures, I hold similar ones of my time rowing, on the rugby pitch and captaining the university at American football back at dad's, seemed so important then. We favoured sepia in our arrogance. And so as I looked at these pieces of history I realised that sepia like us in the pictures fades to obscurity.

In years to come will I be recalled as piece of Cambridge history fading away on a pub wall? Maybe. It shows the transient nature of life, education, and eventual responsibility.

Back home now after 2 colleges, various friends, the aforementioned Pickerel, Jayne's house, The Boot, The Red Lion and The Rose and Crown in Histon, and lunch at the acclaimed Hole in the Wall at Little Wilbraham today, my holiday is almost complete.

I think I feel better than this time a year ago. The anxiety seems less. But I'm not looking forward to that alarm calling to muster on Monday morning that will be the prelude to the charge of the heavy brigade when the students arrive in 2 weeks.

And so on a drizzly autumn day, having passed the fields of stubble in the black earth of East Anglia, time has past and will now move on. Take care out there.

I Heard a Voice

Is It Finally Working?

The air is heavy and still. The sun finally burst through just as I was leaving a country pub. Is this what we call an Indian Summer? I don't know what constitutes such an event but I sure as hell am glad I'm not in the at times stifling office at work.

After another night of bad dreams I woke up very anxious. I really struggled to get out of bed as well as chastising myself for not doing so. Why has the anxiety returned? I'm on holiday so what is there to worry about?

I suspect part of it is the ongoing saga of that wretched phone. When I saw Kiwi Sarah she commented on needing an upgrade. It was a year overdue. But I certainly wouldn't have bothered had I known it would be this much trouble. After my fourth trip to the shop the early signs are that it is finally working. A test text to Jayne elicited a response. Nothing back yet from Dory but I know she went back to work this week.

My trip to town was not wasted. I spent on a couple of vouchers that I was given, one by dad and one by work. Both have a few pounds and pence left over but not worth anything. My gleaming prize though is Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall's mighty new book. I struggled to lift it let alone read it. But I looks forward to it. The other voucher from dad paid for a jumper in the sale at John Lewis. Once winter arrives that will be useful.

After shopping as I'm wont to do it was a country pub. This time The Goat at Codicote. Lovely village, can't understand why I haven't been back for 4-5 years.

Home now in time for Choral Evensong on Radio 3 and a glass of Pimm's. Yes I know it out of season but it is like summer's day out there and I want to cool down.

You won't hear from me until I'm back from Cambridge now. Until then, take care and I'll see you soon.

I Heard a Voice.

Found the Culprit?

Another week, any time off session. I'm entering the second week of my leave and the bad dreams continue. Funnily enough the same thing happened last year. But I will move on.

Intent on trying to find out what is wrong with my new phone I set off comparatively early for town. Went back to the shop and they told me it has something to do with iCloud which I didn't even know I had on my old phone. Being the idiot that I am I'm not capable of sorting it out myself but will have to go back yet again with both phones. Let us hope that is the culprit. How did we ever get so dependent on such gadgets?

Life used to be simpler but alas no more. I didn't tarry long in town and popped by the butcher on my way home. So tonight there is liver and tomorrow a Thai chicken curry. Back at home I have Mendelssohn's Paulus playing and have been making a soup from Sam and Sam Clark's first Moro book. Just about to try it. Excellent! Peas, Iberico Jamon and mint. Hugely refreshing.

After soup is anyone's guess. Probably a little reading. But what? Do I turn once again to Ernest Hemingway? Or to my submarine book? Or more preparation for the NFL season that starts on Thursday? That off season certainly went fast.

Hope you're all having a good day? Greetings again to our French cousins who are currently outranking Brits in viewing my mumblings. Talking of which I've just gone over 39,000 hits. Pleased with that.

I Heard a Voice.

Sodden Pitches and Slippery Balls.

The last time I set foot on a rugby pitch to actually play was around the autumn of 1990. Yes that fateful year where my life plummeted into despair. Rugby had been a huge part of my life from aged 8 when I first stepped onto a muddy field at The Downs School near Bristol in 1977. A career of limited success, much mud, cold and rain ended with a torn leg muscle that fateful autumn 13 years later.

Yesterday I took a trip down memory lane and braved pouring rain and generally meteorological mayhem to watch Harlequins at Twickenham. Lovely but cold day out, wet but not too miserable and after much effort the Quins emerged victorious.

So another outing on what has proved to be a pleasant and in the main relaxing escape from the world. That said feeling in danger of once again taking on too much I have postponed a couple of catch ups with friends.

I now have 4 clear days of very little, just to chill. Then on Thursday I will be Cambridge bound. Another trip back into my past. For today I'm doing the usual reading, listening and cooking. Tonight's menu brings a joint of smoked gammon. I did invite my friend Mike but he is very much a creature of habit who only ventures out twice a week so I think it will be an invitation that will go unaccepted.

Perhaps a walk might be plan after the opera, could probably do with the exercise. See you later in the week.

I Heard a Voice.

The Ebbing Tide of Change.

Welcome to September. A month that I'm very fond of. The tide of summer is ebbing away, cooler days await, beautiful leaf falls, the NFL, and my annual 2 week break from the madness. Although still warm out there the overcast skies show certain change.

Having spent way too much on shopping, a small amount on lunch with Yang and a gentle drive home I'm now back with my opera and planning an afternoon of reading.

Plans for next week have finally emerged. Feeling slightly overwhelmed I've cancelled a couple of thing to simplify my life. Now it just lies with my first visit to Twickenham in over 25 years to watch Harlequins then catching the train next Thursday to Cambridge to visit Jayne and finally meet up with my former colleague Richard who now works up there.

Cambridge has defined so many sections my life. But sadly not recently despite my efforts. That said on the day that marks the 9th anniversary of my move to Hertfordshire I could live in worse counties. Okay so work at times derails me and sometimes the pressure gets too much but in the main I am settled in my adoptive county.

And few places in this county are finer that St Alban's where I met up with my friend Kevin yesterday. Such a good day, fine lunch at Little Marrakech, and visits to The Boot, The White Swan and The Lower Red Lion. St Alban's has some wonderful hostelries.

Thus I leave you on a quiet Friday afternoon at the beginning of another autumn, may it be good for all of you.

I Heard a Voice.

The Glorious 12th.

The start of the game hunting season is not something I take too much notice of. I don't really move in those kinds of circles, I've never been to a Shooting Estate and it is comparatively rare for me to eat game. Not that I dislike it. On the contrary, pigeon, partridge, pheasant and rabbit are very partial to my palate. I just don't think about it often.

Today though after my marvellous day out at the Market my grouse lies seasoned with pepper, anointed with bacon fat as recommended by the late great Clarissa Dickson Wright, and covered with strips of streaky bacon. It will go in in about 10 minutes for around 35 minutes and be served with roasted potatoes, carrots, beans and if it works out a gravy make with meat juices and port.

I feel most cultured. Rossini opera is on and a nice glass of red is breathing away ready for quaffing shortly.

Being on holiday can be good even when one does very little. Apart from a hair cut and a little shopping today has been a take it easy day. Unlike much of the time since I left work on Friday I slept reasonably well. The dreams had made a most unwelcome return and hindered my recharging.

Tomorrow I will catch the bus to St Alban's to meet my friend Kevin. Some Moroccan food is the plan and a few hostelries. So will have to be up a little earlier.

It looks like I will have to make another foray to the phone shop as I confirmed today a number of messages are failing to get through. So not only did they lose my photos the phone doesn't work properly. Beginning to regret going in to change it. People keep asking when my stream of fine food pictures will reappear on social media. The answer is I don't know. Taking ages to master a faulty piece of junk. That said it take lovely pictures.

Time to get back to the kitchen. See you in September.

I Heard a Voice.

Shades of Granada.

Ola! Happy birthday to me! I didn't think I would get to blog today but after a marvellous day out with dad and Beka I'm home relatively early, still full from lunch and enjoying the late sun.

It has been a day that took me back to the city of Granada where of course I met Rachel and went with dad 3 years ago. I wasn't thinking of Rachel today, hadn't crossed my mind when I decided to write. It was a day for us. And what a day.

So long since I made it to the wonderful Borough Market a favourite spot of mine in town. After trying Brindisa in Kensington with my friend Rebecca back in the winter I wanted to try the one at London Bridge. And by God did we go to town. Pitchers of Estrella Damm, sardines, anchovies, prawns, octopus, medium rare pork fillet, olives, cured beef, squid, good bread and tons of fun. A lovely friendly Granadan waiter. And as in Spain the sun shone brilliantly and we sat outside getting nicely tanned and watching the world go by.

And then the Market. Having checked my balance before leaving-pay day is tomorrow-I was somewhat more restrained than usual. I came home with Sri Lankan cinnamon, dried turmeric, mace, pimenton for my friend Gary, sheep's cheese from Spain, a wonderful looking wild boar pate and to top it all a grouse to roast for my supper tomorrow.

Back at home I'm still so hot from town I'm actually in shorts. Cooling off with a chilled beer and Rick Stein on.

On days like today I am reassured that I'm so blessed with the many kind people in my life. My love of good food. And that the devil that is mental illness was politely absent on this my birthday. Please stay away.

I Heard a Voice.

Adventures in Cheese.

The rains finally came today. Not as so often happens in late summer with a fearsome crack of thunder and a great flash of lightning. No that steady but persistent rain that heralds the changing of the seasons.

It was another night of dreams and a late morning. Not sure why but that old nemesis of mine bad dreams seems to be making an unwelcome come back. It is not as bad as it used to be but makes me edgy and tired in the mornings.

On such a Sunday Miriam and Nigel came to visit and took me out to lunch at The Waggoners. Laurent and his crew certainly spoiled us today. Smoked chicken and leek terrine, wonderfully rare beef, and cheese. Yes I took the cheese option and was blown away. Given the recent deluge of French people reading my blog in the last couple of weeks it felt right for an adventure in cheese. It was sublime. Miriam joined me and had a piece of everything on the trolley except the Rochefort as neither of us are great fans of blue cheese.

A few weeks back I was in there for a pint when the cheese man arrived in the refrigerated van and great excitement ensued. I can see why now. I have missed out all these years in cheese barbarity.

What will tomorrow bring? More rain? I don't really care. I just hope for fewer dreams and a gentle day. For the day after I turn 47 with trip to Borough Market with dad and Beka. And Thursday marks the 9th anniversary of moving to Hertfordshire.

I Heard a Voice.

Semi Deserted Streets.

Where has everyone disappeared to? They seem to have vanished. On another close but overcast Saturday there is no sign of the sun and not much sign of life. I did my usual trip to the butcher, then town. It was so quiet. Bought a couple of pairs of Levi's in a sale-shame sale wasn't after pay day but seize the day if you can. I have a Tsing Tao with Yang and a nice cappuccino in Waterstones then home with my new purchases, cleaned coat and very expensively altered blazer.

All the doors and windows are open in the flat and a gentle breeze is barely shifting the stuffy air in here. I fancied listening to strings again today and was overly indulgent-Beethoven's Kreutzer Sonata in the car and now Mozart String Quintets at home.

My mood is buoyant, I have no anxiety and I'm looking forward to fresh linen when I eventually go to bed. Before then the obligatory visit to my kitchen. Prawns are the plan tonight, trying out a new recipe marinated in sumac, coriander, lemon and garlic then fried in olive oil. Perhaps a little Lebanese salad to accompany it. Light and healthy.

Miriam and Nigel are coming tomorrow and we have a table booked at The Waggoners. I guess it will be rare beef again then. We will exchange birthday presents, hers late and mine early.

So many good things coming up in my break but for now I sit back with Mozart, a glass of Pimm's and Ernest Hemingway's A Moveable Feast. Very much enjoying that.

I Heard a Voice.

In the Heat of the Night.

The parched lawns of the University and parks of Welwyn Garden City give witness that this has not been a write off of a summer. Sporadic yes but intense heat and humidity have marked days and weeks as we hurtle towards autumn. It is a beautiful evening. I had a quintessentially English supper of Coronation Chicken, organic salad potatoes and cucumber with a Spanish guest in the form of a chilled glass of Albarino. The marvel of genius that is The Marriage of Figaro is guiding my quiet evening and the start of my holiday.

Yes I have finally made it. No more work until 12th September. There are days out planned-possibly too many. I will eat too much and drink too much. I will visit Borough Market on my birthday with dad and maybe Beka.

What is missing from that equation separated as it was by a final day of work was my lovely evening with the always magnificent Ros.

In the intense heat and humidity of town on a busy Thursday evening we regained ourselves for a few hours. A pint in The Porcupine then on for the first time in some years Jamon Jamon on the site of the old Sporting Pages bookshop on Charing Cross Road. It was carnage there. The food almost as sporadic as the sun, stretched but friendly service, nice but not overly hot tapas and wonderful company.

The two of us have had a lot of downs since we last met and certainly not enough ups. Yet when we meet we talk as true knowers, searchers and believers. It reminded me that at times I'm most at home in the company of people who know the mad world.

We both know it and on the face of it we have both defeated it. We got out. We don't always stay out but are not where we once were.

I hope it is not another year before I see her. I know she will read this and may find it emotion provoking. But Ros we did it, another year. Let's meet sooner next time.

I Heard a Voice.

A Jaunt in the Country.

After the debacle that was yesterday I needed things to improve and so far today they have done. It was time for a jaunt in the country.

The English countryside is littered with quaint little villages. All would originally have had a pub. The churches in the main still stand. And the roads to get to them can be narrow and treacherous. But in the late summer on such a gloriously warm and sunny day why not? I found myself by way of a missed turning in the village of Sandridge this afternoon. Kym lives there.

Until today I had not found the church. Nor The Queen's Head pub. Can you believe there are 3 pubs in the little place? Said pub it turns out is right next to the church. So after a lovely pint of Tribute I took a look at the church.

In common with all such churches there is a memorial to those who died in war. Brave is a politician who sends our sons and daughters to war. Braver still those sons and daughters fighting for causes that may or may not be just. In all the turmoil of the current world there is still a huge poignancy to those records of young men who died 100 years ago in what became known as The Great War.

Every church I visit I take time to look. And at Sandridge there is something slightly different. The memorial gate that stands at the entrance commemorates not only those who died but those who fought and survived. I've never seen that before.

It was a restorative trip. Part of our English heritage of which I'm so proud and admiring. Do not let the right wing take our flag for most are good. As I have noted before so many of these old pubs are closing. Church attendance continues to dwindle but let us hope these old Norman buildings remain for eternity.

I Heard a Voice.

Not My Day.

Days off work are supposed to be fun, relaxed and joyful. Well my day has been anything but. I had a few things to do today, donate to charity shop, get my coat dry cleaned, get a blazer altered, get a new watch strap and look into upgrading my phone. Of those the only thing that went right was the charity shop.

Who could have thought a watch strap, a clean coat and an altered blazer would cost more than £50? Yes it was that much. Thinking nothing else could go wrong I went into the empty Vodafone shop to ask about a phone. Nearly an hour later I had a new phone, I'd had to move the car as my parking was running out, I'd lost all my photos and only just managed to get the numbers from the old phone to the new one. Is it really supposed to be like that?

On such a humid day I came away too hot, too stressed and too irritated for a holiday day. I suspect it will take me weeks to work out the new phone-I am that bad with technology. In dire need of the drink I vacated to The Sun at Lemsford for a pint-cue irritating, arrogant, sarcastic barman. Fuck off! Not today.

Back home I'm edgy and irritable. Don't know what to do with myself and can settle on nothing. Let us hope tomorrow is better. It is another free day.

What to do then I do not know. Maybe a country drive. A walk. Whatever happens I do have something to look forward to as I'm meeting Ros in London on Thursday. I always enjoy her company.

I Heard a Voice.