Luncheon and Supper Plans.

Hello at the end of what has been a very hot and humid July. Things have eased off somewhat now and not much sight of the sun today. I'm at home listening to The Magic Flute with a glass of milk and a tired expression.

Rare is a weekend when I have two different visitors come to see me. Thus this weekend was played out with old friends, old stories and fine food. Friday night took me to meet my friend Tom of Lancing choir days at The Neem Tree. A fine supper and a tiring amount of beer. Then yesterday my friend Erny from King's days took the train over for a most enjoyable afternoon including lunch at The Waggoners and pleasant beers at The Two Willows and The Doctor's Tonic. So I've done the rounds and now pay a tired price for that pleasure.

Fast forward to lunch time today and I struggled to get out of bed. But what does it matter at the weekend? It is time to recuperate.

The week day will come soon enough and the plans for the autumn continue to be slowly made. I'm trying not to think too much about that yet. But given that I struggled badly mentally each of the past two autumns my anxiety will not come as a surprise.

Summer is not complete though. The 3rd Test starts on Wednesday. And no doubt for at least part of that time the sun will shine. I'm hoping my mood lift above the dull 0 or +1 of recent weeks. I have been uninspired really. Not hugely enthused. And that is where my kind friends come in. They keep propping me up even when I flag. Erny commented yesterday that I seemed to know everyone. Sadly those friendships were at times hard won and the devastating loneliness of my move here 9 years ago still sometimes comes back to remind me that living alone can be a perilous occupation at times.

I Heard a Voice.

Could it be Simpler?

I have been cooking for many years. Sometimes successfully, at others, like last night's roast beef an unmitigated disaster. But I keep plugging away. Of my many cook books one of my earliest and most treasured is Vatcharin Bhumichitr's beautiful The Taste of Thailand. Long before Thai was popular and well known over here a little shop in the market town of Tenterden in Kent sold all things Thai. And that was where I bought this marvellous book.

Faced with prawns to cook I turned to Vatch for culinary inspiration. With kaffir lime leaves, lemongrass and all the ingredients in stock I made a stunning dinner of prawns with lemongrass. Citrus from lemon and lime, fiery from chilli powder, a touch of sugar, fish sauce saltiness it was classic Thai fare. A triumph to make up for yesterday's disaster.

Since then I listened to Rossini's The Barber of Seville and read. What a lovely way to spend a summer evening.

There is sadness today though. I learned this evening of the death of Joe Kelly senior who owns The Hedgehog pub where I like to pass the time. I only saw him yesterday as they took him from the nursing home he recently moved to for a pub BBQ. So glad I saw him before he went. It will mean another funeral of course. Oh so many funerals. There will be huge turn out and a mighty wake. That is how he will be remembered.

This week looks quiet at work. Let us hope it stays that way.

I Heard a Voice

Lazy Sun Days.

Greetings to you all from a warm and sunny Hertfordshire. It is perhaps not quite so hot as it was earlier in the week nor so humid but it was enough to alter my planned trip to London on the grounds that the tube in this weather is a nightmare.

Instead I'm enjoying a very lazy Saturday watching cricket, drinking Pimm's and staying away from doing too much. Last week seemed to take forever so having little going on is just what I need. Joe Root has just got out on 254 so England are well on top.

I made a brief foray into town earlier followed by a visit to the butcher. Keeping it very simple, sausage and mash today and rare roast beef tomorrow. Well rare is the intention, doesn't always work as well as I would hope.

The weeks of summer are disappearing fast even though the schools only broke up yesterday. We get a much longer holiday than that but as I regularly have to tell people I still need to work and it just like having any regular job. I did see a post I was interested in in the week but turned out it was part time. Doubt I would have had the skills but I keep looking.

Next weekend I plan to go to the Hatfield House Food Festival with my work friends Madeline and James. I've also invited Kiwi Sarah but not heard back from her yet. The foodie in me is looking forward to what I hope will be a memorable and decadent day.

Enjoy the rest of the weekend and see you all some time soon.

I Heard a Voice.

PS Tippett's A Child of Our Time is on Radio 3 later, the Spirituals in it are some of my favourite pieces of music I sang in my long and now ended career.

Scorching and Wilting.

Wow, what a hot day. With temperatures more akin to Seville than Hatfield we sat in our office this afternoon tired, wilting and struggling to achieve anything much. My huge fan helped but God it was hard work today.

Back at home with all the windows and doors open it is stiflingly humid still. There is a promise of storms later, I think we may be in need of them.

This week has gone on too long already. So quiet apart from visits from perspective students. Have another one coming in tomorrow. Then a meeting on heads up for all the changes that will take place in counselling next year. I've been kept in the dark about that but given the way in which we sometimes clash I have stayed out of things as much as possible.

It's hard to tell where I am mentally. A sort of limbo neither up nor down. I expected trouble today given I had a very difficult night of heat, humidity, noisy bin lorries and open windows and a whole series of incredibly vivid but non threatening dreams.

Dinner was a disaster, far too salty. With very little on to watch I have turned to Mozart's C Minor Mass to get me through the evening. I'm starting on two new books, one about the history of Royal Navy submarines since the war and the other a classic, still undecided on whether to return to Hemingway with A Moveable Feast or delve into the world of D H Lawrence for the first time. Will get back to you on that.

Next time I write it will likely be cooler and more manageable. But for now that is all.

I Heard a Voice.

Not Quite How I Had Hoped.

Ever get those days when a whole series of little things turn out to spoil an otherwise lovely outing? Sadly my day at Lord's was just such a day. It didn't start well, the taxi failed to turn up. I missed my train. I missed the splendid first hour of play. The sun failed to shine. I was cold. Some odious moron chose to film every ball from the Nursery End thus obscuring my view in the afternoon. Then when I got back hoping for a change, a bath and supper at Hakalok the restaurant was completely full. Settling instead for ribs they were vile. Oh well I guess it wasn't my day.

Looking at it another way I wasn't at work. I got to wear my new linen suit. The Chapel Down wine was splendid. And as ever I enjoyed Charlie's company. But not the day I had hoped.

Given that I also slept poorly today has been much better. Up earlier than usual on Saturday I got out to get my belly pork, did some shopping, had a lovely bar lunch in The Waggoners and am now home with the cricket. It is warm and humid, complete contrast to yesterday. And my friend Jo is coming for dinner.

I do so love cooking for others. It's a while since she was round but we always have fun when we meet. She's bringing the wine.

The world outside continues on its stormy buffeted way. Such a tragedy in France. Chaos in Turkey. And world goes mad still further. What is happening? It's far too hard to make any sense of it all.

I Heard a Voice.

Aftershocks

Someone once said "a week is a long time in politics". Well in the light of the less then 3 weeks since my country voted to leave the EU 10 minutes has been a long time. And so it comes to pass as the heralds trumpet and almighty change Theresa May is our new Prime Minister.

I have long tipped her to be the most likely leader of the Conservative party after David Cameron. Yet no one, anywhere, any time could possibly have predicated it would be in this way. I thought she spoke quite eloquently outside Number 10 and I liked Cameron's departing comments. A new era is upon us. I wonder where we will be in another month?

In my much smaller and more irrelevant world there has been a flurry of activity in the last couple of days. Sadly it was another of those pass the parcel type days where no one wants the buck to stop with them and what ensued was chaos. We really need to look at this. Today I was picking up some of the pieces and thankfully it appears the situation has come back from the brink. Not what we usually get in July.

For myself I think I'm okay. The blip of the weekend Beka was here has healed. I'm around plus 1, I can live with that. I'm praying for a sunny day on Friday otherwise the new linen suit will remain unworn a little longer and my rain coat will come out. Charlie is flying in from Atlanta early that morning so here's hoping no delays. It is such a lovely day out at Lord's.

See you all in while.

I Heard a Voice

Truncated Journeys.

A fine mist of rain enveloped east Kent as I prepared to return home. Cold wind too. Getting to the station I learned the usual fear when I visit dad that there are no trains. So a bus then run to the train and eventually to home. Back here and on the King's Cross train it was sweltering and humid. Glad to be back when I finally got there. Add the taxi trouble I had on Friday it was not my most trouble free trip to the coast. But never mind.

Dad's new flat looks great although not enough wall space for all the pictures and a few more boxes to unpack. He was on good form as were my friends I caught up with. It did not seem so frantic as the weekends I have at home when time slips away so suddenly and leaves me on the cusp of another Monday.

Yet today I feel okay. I'm debating whether to watch the football. Many are overjoyed that Andy Murray won Wimbledon-well done him. And dad will be delighted with the result of the Grand Prix. Neither really my scene but the cricket is coming. Day 1 on Thursday then I will be in attendance for day 2. Always a great day out.

Maybe see you in the week.

I Heard a Voice.

Rare Steak and Rioja.

Every now and again I buy a good steak, cook it beautifully rare, saute some potatoes in goose fat and serve minted petit pois with a glass of fine wine on a week day. How self indulgent is that? After a very quiet and in my office humid day I felt like some decadence. So rare sirloin and Rioja was the thing. And very good it was too. Dory described is as so rare it looked like a cow with a sun tan. But it was superb.

So we are nearly at the end of another week. Tomorrow I go to visit dad in his new flat. The political earthquake continues as the dispatching of the polite assassin was complete today and for the first time since Thatcher come September we will have a woman Prime Minister. I really don't know what mum would have made of the chaos nor indeed which way she would have voted but she would have been delighted at another woman at No 10.

It will be a busy weekend. Tomorrow I meet my teacher friend Laura. On Saturday I'm dining at the new Turkish restaurant with an old friend Donna with Beka and Michael coming too. And on Sunday Beka, Anne, dad and I will sample Sunday lunch at The Bell  for the first time since it changed hands.

Lord's awaits next week when Charlie and I reconvene as English gentlemen and continue the decadent summer. May you all have decadence too.

I Heard a Voice

Wet Drive In.

Driving in through the rain did not overjoy me. It had been a real struggle to get out of bed and there was a big fat zero appointments in my diary. The quiet of summer can be a challenge. Perhaps not as bad as the chaos of October but a challenge none the less. For almost nothing happens now and trying to stay motivated and enthused can sometimes wane.

The rain relented though, I got a few things done and another day is nearly gone. A while has past since I last spoke to you all. I have partially been staying clear of continued political madness that grips my country. The leading campaigners for leaving Europe have all but disappeared; Nigel riding off to the nearest pub and retirement, Boris killed off by his confidante, and Michael the assassin about to pass into history as the Tory party veer away from him.

On the other side of the House Jeremy has lost his entire party but still will not quit. His party members tell me they will re-elect him as leader regardless. Will the party survive? It looks increasingly unlikely.

And all the while a cagey woman who hedged her bets on staying but did not campaign looks increasingly like our new prime minister. Now do you realise why I rarely make political comment on here?

In the lives of unimportant people like me we plod day to day, pay day to pay day, month to month and so again in 5 short months to Christmas. Yet with my Haydn string quartet that plays so nicely, my rare but sublime venture into fish in the form of Icelandic line caught cod stir fried with black beans and spring onions, and a glass of beer I feel okay. See you soon.

I Heard a Voice

Cerebral Zone Out.

What is all this madness of the last week? The whole country seems to have gone crazy. Having struggled to make sense of the most dramatic political events of my life my mind decided to give up. It has been coming all week but never ever felt like this.

Is it the illness or some other phenomenon that my crazy mind has never moved me toward but it has not been nice? The result is a couple of days at home struggling to kick start what has always been an active inquisitive mind. But no longer.

Today does feel better than yesterday although I would not have been up to much had I gone in. Am I righting myself? I do hope so.

On a brighter note it was cheering this morning to see at least some of the bitter hatred set to one side as we mark the centenary of the start of the battle of the Somme. Political difference must be parked for a few hours on days of such significance. Representing the senseless slaughter of war it stands as a reminder that many fought and died in war to give us the option to vote as we did last week. In our arrogance and division we must never forget that.

What will become of the weekend I do not know. Not being able to think at all has been most un-nerving. Please mind, come back.

I Heard a Voice.