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.