Endings, Beginnings and Change.

And so we come to the final post of the year. This will be my eighth final post since I nervously started broadcasting my musings, trials, tribulations and triumphs. 2010 seems a lifetime ago now but it is barely anything in the grander scheme of the world. Time marches and we must march with it.

Looking back it has been a year in which anxiety became my enemy on a more regular basis, my mood held up in the main and I survived what passes for my life. I'm very pleased that for a second year I was not felled by relapse despite what life has thrown at me.

None more so than in recent days since dad has been unwell. I'm used to caring for the mentally ill but caring in another sense is entirely new to me. Did I learn briefly what it is like to be a parent? Not sure I qualify for that as I only did it a short while. However challenging it may have been for me for dad it is the real fight. A few days removed from that terrible night in A&E slowly he is moving forward. Like many of us it is tempting to rush but that must not be done.

Various kind friends have or will be dropping in on him. I managed to drive home yesterday. Given the last few days I'm relieved I booked the extra week off work.

As New Year's Eve falls on a Sunday I feel compelled to roast something. Unusually for me it is a loin of pork. I got to the butcher quite late and that was all they had prepared. Currently in the oven I never tire of the wondrous smell of pork cooking. Gary and Ali will join me. It is tempting to open the champagne in the fridge as it is a celebration. But I don't fancy my chances of making it through tomorrow if I start that early.

I have just booked tickets for Sarah and me to go to Star Wars on Wednesday. I had hoped to go last year but was full of cold and didn't think people would appreciate me coughing and sneezing in the cinema. Not sure what I will do the rest of the week.

Having reflected on what has been, should I muse on what is to come? Change maybe but I'm not sure what. I have been through a lot of change in recent years which at times seems to have made life harder. So can I affect change for the better in 2018? I do hope so.

May I wish you all a Happy and Prosperous New Year. Thanks for reading and see you tomorrow.

I Heard a Voice.

Setting Sun, Rising Moon.

The sun is going down on a cold clear winter's day. An eerie fire lights up the horizon. What a 24 hours it has been. My nightly drive in freezing conditions was lit up by a giant yellow half moon. The day after I cannot tell which direction I was going in in my terror of night driving in bad conditions. But it was a comfort to me.

I came home from meeting Beth to find dad had fallen. He was confused but not hurt. I waited two hours for an ambulance. Driving up an hour or so later I was greeted by A&E carnage and dad very ill. They told me he was well enough to go home so I came to get some clothes and drove back. But that was the end of the line. Feeling desperately alone in the chaos my mind thought also of what it must have been for dad. He did not come out last night. I got back to the flat at 4 am.

Now home I am somewhat bewildered as to what to do next. They are arranging carers thank goodness but it doesn't stop my feeling of utter powerlessness.

I refuse to criticise the hard working hospital staff. Nor will I compare it with a war zone as some might, we have medicines and staff and facilities and we are not being bombed. What I saw was heroic and exhausted staff trying to stop the whole thing falling apart.

Relieved to be home but still worried. He is a little better but a long way to go. I'm staggered by the many messages of support I have received.

What I crave more than anything is sleep. I also probably need to get Risperidone inside me. So tired but must remain vigilant.

Until next time.

I Heard a Voice.

Winter's Closing in on Every Side.

Not a nice day out there in the big wide world. Icy wind, freezing rain and flurries of sleet pervade the air down at the seaside. Certainly not a day for a walk as I had planned. I'm feeling a little edgy over whether to risk the drive home tomorrow, from what I hear there is much more snow up there.

Back in the warm of dad's flat he continues to struggle. I have no idea what is wrong with him but he keeps getting the very intense shakes. Not something I have ever seen a virus do. Although he's not said much it seems a little frightening. Not sure what the chances are of getting a doctor out today or tomorrow. Or indeed what they might be able to do. He seems deeply concerned he hasn't felt well enough to go out and get his paper. I should have done it really but not sure of its chances of survival in this when I went out without a plastic bag.

My plan to see Beka today has been abandoned. She too remains unwell and very helpfully pointed out that she really doesn't want to pass this illness on to me. I am however going out to meet Beth at 4 pm. She has a new partner who apparently is keen to meet me. Always makes me wonder why.

That I'm memorable to some was evident last night. Out for a beer with my old friend Anders I bumped into my former housemate from JB's Luke. He introduced me to his girlfriend who said she remembered me from years ago when I used to sometimes go to The Frenchman and as bar manager she used to chuck us out at the end of the night. I don't recall although it was kind of her to describe me as one of the nicer customers. Not sure I've been in that pub in the last fifteen years.

My mind needs to slow down. It has been relatively still since I got down here. Now with thoughts of dad being unwell and snow stopping me going home it is stirring. Please do not go into overdrive now. Illness aside though it has been good to be away.

If I'm to stick to my avowed intention to write no more than twelve posts a month I only have one left. But to hit an average of twelve I still have one to play with. I'm not sure when I will see you all again but until then wrap up warm, stay safe and take care. I will try very hard too.

I Heard a Voice.

Only the Cheese to Go.

Happy Christmas everyone!!!!! Hope you're all having a marvellous day with friends and family. It's blowing a gale here in east Kent but not too cold and the rain held off.

I'm feeling very fat with two courses down and only the cheese to go. Things did not go as smoothly as we hoped, dad and Beka both unwell so we were down to four for lunch. But we made a heroic effort between us and there is not quite as much left as I feared. That said we could probably have fed another three to four people.

Getting to Christmas was a long time coming. Slowly I'm recharging my batteries away from the University. Come New Year I will have to gird up my loins and face another gruelling battle. Thinking back all those years when I fought so hard to get a job it felt as if a job would be the final piece of the recovery puzzle. Of course now I know the puzzle is forever changing shape and is never quite complete.

The plan such as it is is to stay here until Thursday. That may change if dad remains unwell. I keep telling him to go to bed but he's still sleeping on the sofa. Let us hope he feels better soon.

And with that I leave my kind readers. Hope you have all enjoyed the day and I wish you well for the coming year.

I Heard a Voice.

PS And now to the cheese!

Through the Fog to East Kent.

Greetings from the seaside. A blanket of fog enveloped east Kent as I drove up the motorway slipway and arrived in Hythe. Despite that I made good progress and it only took me 1 hour 45 minutes. Looking at how the tunnel was going the other way I'm glad I was headed south and not back home to the north.

I have escaped the world that is work and can now focus on recuperating and chilling. My anxiety is at bay thank goodness. My wait for the boiler man on Tuesday was not in vain. He was very friendly and explained a lot. Over the years in that flat many have come to look and all give me different explanations as to what is wrong. This man was no different. He assured me after doing some things it was fine yet two days later it is once again losing pressure. I'm not too concerned at this stage but I just wish they would rip the whole thing out and start again.

Away from tedious domestic problems I have my week in Hythe ahead of me. The first person I saw on arrival was not exactly who I would have wanted to see but was a reminder that during my dark times in the 1990s many others didn't get out and still roam the streets aimlessly guzzling the cheapest coffee they can find and chain smoking roll ups. I did that once.

Have I moved on that far? I hope so although on the days when the darkness once again threatens me I have my doubts.

Dad still has his lingering cold and what looks like a chest infection. GP told him to try antibiotics but he's not keen. Let's hope it lifts before the big day.

Partridge is on the menu tonight. I will roast a brace I spotted in the window of the butcher stuffed with bay and thyme. Stupidly I forgot to buy bacon to wrap it but we will survive. Tomorrow we food shop in earnest. I have completed my Christmas shopping and now look ahead with not a lot of enthusiasm to wrapping, a task I detest and am singularly bad at.

See you some time in the next few days.

I Heard a Voice.

Unexpected Home Time

The morning mist was still hanging onto the surface of Stanborough lakes as I drove back through glorious winter sunshine. What a beautiful sight. When I went to bed last night having still not heard from Kevin the plumber I could not have predicted that today would start as it did and I would be home and writing on here.

Given my recent edginess the last thing I needed was to wake up to no water. Eventually I managed to ascertain that a water main had burst. I well recall mum's fear back in Cannongate Road on the days the water company switched off supplies for maintenance. My anxiety went through the roof as I drove in, never quite knowing can be so crippling.

I'd only been in a short while when I heard from the boiler people who told me they are coming this morning. Cue dash back home to an uncertain morning. Buoyed by the winter beauty I was hugely relieved to discover the water is back on. Now all I have to do is wait for the boiler man. Let us hope he comes soon.

After work I'm going for a drink with colleagues at The Red Lion. They are having a Christmas dinner but I elected not to eat. Instead when I get home a small rump steak awaits and will do some oven chips. Perhaps a glass of Rioja to go with it.

Tomorrow is my last day at work. I'm going to The Neem Tree with Sarah after finishing. That should be fun. She hasn't been well but is I hope on the mend now. Then on Thursday morning I brave the M25 and head to dad's for a week. Will be good to get away.

Once the anxiety has been shifted I'm hoping my mood will rise. It's not low but the constant worry can take its toll and lead me to dark places.

See you all soon.

I Heard a Voice.

Waiting on a Wet Day.

The rain has been coming down steadily here since I got up. Not as cold as it has been recently nevertheless the world looks pretty gloomy. You find me waiting for a call that will come, I just don't know when. After a difficult start to the week the rest has been tense with the boiler threatening to go out at any moment. That is not conducive to a restful weekend. So I wait for Kevin the plumber's call who will no doubt tell me the whole thing needs replacing. A sense of calm does not pervade me today.

Don Giovanni plays which provides a nice distraction. A plate of sprats sufficed for lunch and I have chicken to roast later. My plan had been for Gary and Ali to come round and eat it with me. Sadly he has a stomach bug so they have cancelled.

I'm debating whether to go for a pint at The White Horse. Should I do that no doubt Kevin will call when I'm driving, it was ever thus.

Only three days of work remain before my well needed holiday. Thursday and Friday were not particularly easy there. More crises and demands that are impossible to sate. I simply cannot get people detained under the Mental Health Act just like that. There is process for very good reason. I followed process and that was all I could do.

Spoke with dad last night and he is full of cold. Let's hope he picks up soon. Ros made it to the end of term and got her well deserved glass of wine on Thursday. I joined her by proxy and had a glass too. I'm catching up with Sarah on Wednesday before I head off to Kent.

I will see what tomorrow brings, hopefully some stability and calm. Just can't seem to quell this constant low level of fear. It's not crippling today as it was on Tuesday but it is very tiring. With luck when I escape that fear will be put aside at least for a while.

Keep going out there on this dull day, the holiday is not far off.

I Heard a Voice.

Literary, Musical and Culinary Respite.

A A Gill has provided the literature, Beethoven the music and that wonderful place Kerala the culinaria. On an uneven day it is good that I have the mechanisms to switch off from whatever a sometimes hostile world throws at me.

The great anxiety of yesterday disappeared as suddenly as it came despite a dream addled night. The thaw is underway although my walk to a meeting in town was precarious. So far so good. Then back at the ranch more things to make me feel an inadequate failure. I get that things can be tense when we are all under pressure but the way in which things are sometimes communicated does not always help.

But that part of the day is over. We drift ever closer to the end of a long term. My lovely friend Ros has been messaging me today which I always like but is feeling despondent. My thoughts are with you Ros and enjoy the wine when you get there tomorrow.

My recent forays into A A Gill have been both delightful and humbling. Did ever a man write so passionately of the savagery and love of both humanity and nature? Accosted as I was by people today on my way to lunch almost demanding I give to their cause which they yelled in an accusatory way was "refugees". Gill's writing on the subject humbles and shames me. That might stimulate me more to act rather than a hostile, salesman approach I witnessed today.

That I live is such a peaceful place where I can buy and read books, listen to Beethoven and cook the food of others is testament to how lucky we are here in the UK. Many will never get that chance. But we cannot let culture die. It makes us better people.

So on this December night with the rain coming down think of that. We are lucky, very lucky. I need to recall that better on the dark days when I feel so attacked. Mental illness has not always bequeathed me the greatest suit of armour but it has given me the ability to at least try to help my fellow people. And sometimes I get it very right. And sometimes very wrong. I am thus flawed.

More soon.

I Heard a Voice.

Admitting Defeat.

I have been worrying about today for some time. Why did I agree to sing when my confidence is shot through? The day dawned as the sun was coming up. Yes the sun has appeared after the bitter cold of recent days. I did go back to bed but slept only sporadically. A world of icy treachery awaits anyone going out. Fear pervaded my mind until finally I admitted defeat and got up.

Defeat not just for sleep but also for singing. Maybe it is an excuse. Maybe I never wanted to go in the first place. But discretion can be the better part of valour so I abandoned the idea of London and cancelled. How and when I can come back from this setback only time will tell. Is singing over forever? Is my anxiety as crippling as it feels today? At this stage I do not know the answer to those questions.

So what to do. I did gingerly wander out to see the state of play. Even the busses are struggling today. There was a queue of three of them backed up at the corner. I will leave my car well alone until tomorrow when I will return to work. An unexpectedly extra long weekend.

Hard to believe but this is my 1000th post on my blog since I started back in September 2010. My initial thought was that it might be a way of generating some interest in my book. I have long since given up my books, proud that I wrote them but disappointed how hard it has been to convince people to read them. They did serve their purpose though.

When my broadband finally came back to life last night I picked up an e mail from an academic asking if it is okay to reference my books in an academic paper. How nice is that? There must be something in them after all.

None of this solves what I'm going to do today. I suspect it will merely be staring at the TV and wasting my life away.

Be careful not to fall in the icy conditions, it's not worth breaking bones for the sake of getting on with daily life.

I Heard a Voice.

No Country Pub Today.

The white hue of snow litters the landscape and a tinge of gloom covers my day. It is not a day for going out. You may recall how fond I am of finding a country pub on a Sunday afternoon but not today.

Sitting in the warm I have partially read the paper, Handel's Orlando plays and the heating is holding out. It feels a strange day long removed from when I was last at work but not long until I must return there. I have my car back although it cost rather more than I'd anticipated. But nowhere to go on this cold day.

Both mornings this weekend have started with dreams of mum. I do not know why but as was so often the case in life it left me feeling edgy and anxious. At times she exuded that feeling. Not least from her own fears that were so prominent in the latter stages of her life. More than five years have gone since she went so suddenly. We are all that bit older and trying to keep pace with the marching excess of time.

Another year is nearly over. These are the first snows in these parts for a few years. What has this past year brought me? Hard to say really but I'm not in the desolate place of two years ago when my mind went into meltdown and so many of my friends died. In the week was the anniversary of Sue's death. In another week or so we will remember Izzi. I miss them both. In that short time of the academic year 2015-2016 I used up a fifth of my holiday on funerals. I'm pleased to say I've avoided them since.

We are coming to the end of the game season. Tonight I will once again roast a pheasant to celebrate the marvels of seasons and nature. I will be alone but that is okay. Today I quite like my own company now the initial fear has subsided.

I will work tomorrow then sing on Tuesday. Each brings its own doubts but I will survive; I always do. Take care out there in the snow and ice and I'll see you all soon.

I Heard a Voice.

Undue Praise.

A raw, bitter northerly wind is scything through the air out there in the world. We are anticipating snow. Unlike my normal Friday I'm at home indoors with the heating on. I'm listening to Verdi for the first time in a while. Waiting for a phone call I will stay put until it comes. Good to be away from work and not feel guilty or anxious. It truth I booked the day off to sort my car. That is the call I'm expecting.

Taking a cab into town after dropping the car off I made a little progress on Christmas shopping. Only two more things to get and all the wrapping.

I'm trying hard to make sense of the past week. Busy is an understatement. Did I do some good? I do hope so. The week was one I was dreading as it contained my annual lecture to the psychology students. As I have noted before on here I feel like abandoning teaching and speaking but I held on.

Imagine my surprise when I walked in and a student said to me "are you the Mark that wrote the books?" I wasn't expecting that. Apparently I have a reputation. I came away two and half hours later exhausted and disappointed. Not for abject failure but for missing out the key moment of the story and having to go back. A bit like telling a brilliant joke but forgetting the punchline. Whilst I dwell on failure the students will judge me for what I am. That feedback will come and I will be too nervous to read it. Yet after I met with the academic who invited me and was equally shocked when she said "it is a privilege to have you teach our students". Apparently the feedback has always been awesome.

Being a known and praised figure unnerves me sometimes. Rather uncomfortable when people know my name and what I do and over praise me. Earlier in the week a visitor told me I was famous in mental health circles. I should of course be buoyed by such sentiment but given that all those years ago I was accused of narcissism you can understand my surprised response.

Deep down we all need validation. That my confidence is at best shaky these days nice things happening should be good. I just never feel there is any lessening of expectation. Constants feelings of why didn't you do that plague my daily life. I think there is a lot I do well but all I ever notice is what I fail to do well. Why can't I just be?

Increasingly it feels like I need to do something about my anxiety. Caroline would tell me to meditate. But to do that I need to be disciplined and I'm not too good at that.

Away from the self criticism I'm pleased to report that I had a lovely evening out at The Waggoners on Wednesday for Sarah's birthday. They were so kind they gave us a free glass of champagne each.

I will probably return on the weekend so see you then.

I Heard a Voice.

The Luncheon Interval.

For all of you who read this from countries not playing or familiar with cricket it may seem strange that a sporting contest can last for five days and each day is stopped for the luncheon and tea intervals. So quaintly English. We do indeed do that and we are famous for afternoon tea.

Today's luncheon interval was just what I needed to pick me up. Both days this weekend have been marred by chronic anxiety over such stupid things as freezers and hoovers. I kid you not but that is what my brain bequeathed me on waking. More and more I am understanding what life was like for mum in the last years of her life.

This is utterly ridiculous but all too real. Beka keeps telling me to talk to someone about it. But having been one of the original guinea pigs in the wave of CBT that pervades our services I'm certainly not going back there. My "psychotherapy" was an unmitigated disaster and has made me suspicious of therapists ever since.

Sometimes people erroneously think that I provide counselling. I do not, I just have conversations with people, tell them what I think, share my rich tapestry of experience and for many that is helpful. I'm not in therapy as some therapists are. True I seek wise counsel for wise people. But I do not leave people with their own thoughts.

On this day the luncheon interval came to my rescue. Hass picked me up from home and we had a beautiful lunch at The Waggoners. It was so good to see him and hear of his new post university life. He is loving it. We talked of past and future and it made me think once again that to move on I must shape my destiny. Just feels so desperately hard knowing which way to turn.

Back at home in the warm I'm listening to Handel with a cup of Darjeeling tea and a good book. I feel very full on this damp day. Full moon will appear later but the clouds will obscure my view. I wonder what it will do to the asylum that is my life. If we believe in old wives' tales it could be busy. I'm less anxious now than earlier. Looming on the horizon I have my annual lecture to the 1st year clinical psychology doctorate students on Thursday. Each year it has been a triumph so why am I so scared? It lurks already in my clouded mind. I'm thinking more and more about giving up the teaching and public speaking. But that will be admitting defeat. I must face my fear and triumph.

Take it easy back in the land of work next week and I will speak again soon.

I Heard a Voice.

Too Classy for Pizza.

Apathetic is probably the best word to describe my view on Italian food. It simply isn't my thing. Nice wine certainly, very partial to a glass of Chianti. You will occasionally find me cooking pasta but when it comes to pizza that is indeed a rare event. So why was it this week I found myself desiring that over rated food? No idea but last night I shared a pepperoni pizza with Bronwen in the pub. It was okay but nothing special. What took me by surprise was the comment of her son Tristan who said merely "I thought you were too classy for pizza". What a buoyant idea, being classy. I don't always feel classy and much of my life I view myself as a failed nobody. But I do like to do my culinary adventures with some style.

The week is over. I bounced back from my disappointing Wednesday. Yesterday was one of frustration after only one of my six students booked in turned up and she was late so couldn't stop. We had an emergency but I coped.

A dreary wet day has followed. It was a normal Saturday of food shopping and wandering. I have a piece of rump steak for dinner, chips are in the oven and about to open a nice bottle of Rioja. I have chosen Beethoven to accompany me for the early stages tonight. Peas, watercress and griddled tomato will round out my supper.

Tomorrow I'm going out with my friend Hass for roast beef. Originally planned for today the challenges of looking after small children led to a delay. But I don't mind.

Advent tomorrow so I will dust off my first King's recording and chill when home. The march is now on for Christmas. I keep hearing Christmas music everywhere. So on we go to a holiday. Enjoy your weekend.

I Heard a Voice.

Would Be Easy to Have a Rant.

You find me today on the edge of rant. But I will shy away. Suffice it to say today was not my best day. Sometimes it feels as if we live in a siege mentality in my days so I can understand people saying things in ways that are not always helpful but I do not like coming home feeling attacked. But rather than attack back I will take the experience and try to build a better suit of armour in future.

I'm not entirely sure if anyone is out there reading. Views have really slumped this month and as ever I have no idea why the audience can wax and wane in such an unexpected way. If you are reading many thanks. Although most who read do not know me I do like doing my writing and value everyone who tunes in.

My part of the world remains pretty cold and desolate. The boiler is holding on thank goodness so aside from cold feet I'm pretty comfortable at home. I'm listening to opera for the second night in a row. I awarded myself an extra session yesterday as I was at a loose end.

The countdown to Christmas will kick off in earnest on Friday. Why do people put up decorations in November? I need to think what to buy people. Tomorrow is pay day and I have managed to claw back the much of the deficit after my profligate October. I have paid for the next two MOT tests on my car and it will be serviced next Friday. Must go Christmas shopping soon.

Rebecca has conned me into singing in a carol service the week after next. Where has my confidence gone when it comes to singing? Losing confidence seems to be a big issue in my life as I get older. Does that happen to others? I never could sight read well so the prospect of a rehearsal and high expectation looms large and terrifying. But I'm sure we will be okay.

Will be nice to spend the day in London beforehand. Despite my good intentions trips to London have been few and far between except my dinner with Ross a couple of weeks ago.

With that I leave you all. More in December.

I Heard a Voice.

A Blast from the Arctic.

Goodness me it is cold today. The winter sun is shining but a bitter wind from the north is chilling my world to almost freezing levels. Perhaps a day for a chilly walk. Or perhaps instead a day for staying in with the paper and my opera.

You find me a few days on not fully recovered from this bug although certainly not where I was earlier in the week. I'm eating again although not huge amounts. My kitchen ventures have been quite successful. My postponed dinner with Sarah went ahead on Friday and was I think a success. In a week when I have achieved very little it is good to hang onto some semblance of normality.

My intention is to go back in tomorrow. I'm not thinking too much about it on this quiet Sunday afternoon but I dread to think what might have piled up in my inbox whilst I was away.

The last couple of weeks has seen a certain amount of publicity of suicides on University campuses. The BBC screened a programme on it the week before last. Ros tells me it was well worth a watch although I didn't get round to it. Today The Sunday Times printed a piece on a number of student deaths at Bristol last year. It is easy to feel targeted by such things as I'm in the firing line.

Demands placed on me and my many colleagues who work in student wellbeing across the country can be unrealistic at times. Each death is a tragedy and we always seem to look for someone to blame. Yes I am guilty often of beating myself up mentally but as I have said in past times on here I am not a magician. The three deaths of students known to me in the last decade still feel raw at times. People seem to think that is remarkably few given the need and demand. But it hurts. We all think we will save the world when we come into this business. Those who survive are those who learn quickly that they will never save the world.

Tomorrow will come and I will once again go into the front line. The term is edging towards its completion. There are only three weeks left. I need to think about plans for the holiday. I think I will drive to Kent on the Thursday before Christmas. We intend to do turkey this year, not had that for Christmas since mum died. Miriam is down at dad's this weekend. It will good to visit again.

In the mean time I must MOT my car, take each day as it comes, buy presents and generally prepare. Is Christmas really worth all the effort we put in? I think so. That was never the case when my madness was at its height. Thank goodness for the main part that is in my past not my present.

I Heard a Voice.

Not Quite the Sound of Silence.

On a cold, blustery but sunny day once again you find me at home. I haven't been able to shake off this bug yet. I feel a little better than yesterday but still worn and tired. Apart from taking the rubbish out I haven't left my flat. My sleep was rather interrupted by odd, difficult dreams but having gone to bed fairly early I slept off and on for near 11 hours. That has to be a sign.

What should be a quiet peaceful day has been somewhat disputed by the sounds of a pneumatic drill going out the back of the Co op. Not sure what they are doing but the access in and out has been challenging both days I've been home.

During that spell I have barely eaten. A little dal last night and a poached egg today. I'm feeling pretty hungry now so will risk cooking something later. I do have some turkey in for Thanksgiving although if I do indeed cook it I will only eat a little. I can share the rest with friends.

My dinner with Sarah has tentatively been put back until tomorrow. Let us hope for respite by then. Given a subpar state I do not feel too bad being home. Yes I worry I will forget things and the thought of catching up when I do go back lurks only dimly in the background.

I discovered this afternoon that it is not just me suffering. My neighbour Richard has been similarly afflicted since Tuesday. Is it what my manager had last week? Can we ever tell these things although when anyone gets ill we all seem to agree that "there is something going round" in that terribly English way.

My afternoon will be spent listening to Handel's Saul and with some reading. Last night I managed to listen to both Don Giovanni and Orpheus in the Underworld. Fine music on a not so fine day.

By the time I next come on here to talk to you I hope I'm back in the land of the living free from all pestilence and dangers of the night. Can't wait for that to happen.

I Heard a Voice.

An Unfortunate Postponement.

The way things have transpired today was not exactly as I planned them. The working day looked really busy but manageable. It is midweek opera day. And Sarah was going to come round for dinner. At the worst possible moment an irritating stomach bug seems to have grabbed hold of me and ruined the day.

Most of the morning was spent in bed. I slept in fits and starts and as so often happens when not well the weirdest and most obscure dreams haunted me. When I did get up I made a very brief foray out to buy some food to cook when I'm up to it. It was a blustery day with the last of the fall leaves swirling about in the breeze.

Back at home I spent most of the afternoon trying to stay awake, keep hydrated and watching the Good Food channel. It remains a staple of mine although I've seen nearly everything many times over. Seeing Rick Stein pan fry some floured herring made me think of mum. She still pops into my head from time to time, often at unexpected times.

With luck this affliction will disappear quickly. I have tentatively rescheduled dinner with Sarah for Friday. I will cook pan fried duck breasts done medium rare then rested with a sauce made from pomegranate molasses with some baby roast potatoes and some beans. I think I will also open my Gran Reserva bottle of Rioja. So fingers crossed I'm better by then.

The world ticks on towards Christmas. There are but three and a half week until the end of term. Autumn is closing and winter is coming. The cold brings sumptuous earthy dishes to my kitchen. Might have to do another game casserole. I found some partridge breasts that I can wrap bacon and put in the oven if I'm well enough to eat tomorrow. I suppose I ought to eat something tonight but not sure what. Nothing too rich or complicated.

I hope the rest of your week goes well. See you again soon.

I Heard a Voice.

Early to Rise, Late to Lunch.

Given that it was my first uninterrupted lie in for over a week waking at 9.15 was not on my agenda. Sadly that is what happened. There was no great fear just an inkling that perhaps I should not have committed myself to eat at lunch time rather than in the evening. Taking another hour of in and out sleep I emerged to a cold but sunny world. A sharp contrast to yesterday's vile wet outlook.

Having been up earlier than planned it was on to getting cooking. A joint of gammon studded with cloves that has been wafting wonderful aromas round my flat for a while. The potatoes just went in to roast and I will do carrots, sprouts and beans to pretend that my diet is on track.

Haydn is today's chosen composer. The box set is good but only a little opera and no Nelson mass. Thankfully I have the latter elsewhere. Given that I had to work yesterday it is pleasant to have time to myself. The open day went okay in the main, very few people came in and fewer still were for me. Visions of queues forming and blocked car parks proved unfounded. I had no stress so compared to what might await me on Monday had I gone in it was a gentler day. I am not going in tomorrow and am hoping to get to Borough Market if I'm not too exhausted. Last week was long and at times tough going. But week 8 is now in the history books.

Thanksgiving comes on Thursday so a feast of NFL action awaits. Tonight my Rams go into Minnesota to battle the high flying Vikings in a clash of titans. The Rams have played some extraordinary football so far this season but I'm not yet buying the hype. If they win tonight with me cheering them on at home then maybe I will start to believe.

Still yet to do my mood diary but after being touch and go at times recently I feel pretty upbeat now. Maybe a walk in the sun or a pint in a country pub may be in order after my gammon. Have a great Sunday.

I Heard a Voice.

Cheese and Wine Anyone?

All week that sin of greed has been eating away at me. Ever since I had a spare half hour near the Galleria and spotted a beautiful coat in a shop. The colour of brown sugar, double breasted and looking o so smart I have resisted so far. I do have four coats already although my envious eyes sees them as jaded and in need of supplementary reinforcements. Passing close that way again today I resisted for the time being.

Is this a sign? I spent a lot in Waitrose on my way home, some things I needed, some I didn't. Where is my mood? I feel pretty tired but I'm also feeling impulsive. What is this state? Overwhelmed but mainly paddling on serenely. Such a mix of contradiction. Must get down to my mood diary although I'm not quite sure how I will measure this week.

Enough of that though, it is Wednesday. I'm blogging a little early tonight so opera hasn't started. For the time being Classic FM is my background sound. Later I will have a visitor for an indulgent evening of cheese, wine and Mozart. Been a while since Jo came round. It will be nice to see her and partake of a cultural evening. That partially explains why I spent so much but I don't care. I just want a fun evening.

Tonight I mellow, tomorrow another day of this marathon week. My colleague Lisa told me I looked tired today. Certainly each morning the duvet is more enticing than the cold outer world. But I have not succumbed to my fear and desire for sleep. I think I'm doing quite well.

At this midweek point, I hope you are all thriving. We're on the downhill slope to the weekend so take it easy, do what you need to do and escape any stress to fight another day.

I Heard a Voice.

Interrupted Sleep, Grouchy Outlook.

Who would have known that on going to bed last night my planned lie in would have been interrupted by the police battering down the door of a flat downstairs? No idea what is going on but that flat seems cursed. In the time I have been here three times it has been occupied and many more than three times it has attracted the attention of the police. I do not know the people who moved in recently but I certainly wish I wasn't disturbed in my precious sleep.

That has led to rather grouchy outlook today. Tiredness is always a downfall for me. I'm not certain what to do with myself. I have listened to Handel and am now whiling away the hours with Classic FM. But I feel uneasy.

Outside there is a cold biting wind so that doesn't seem very attractive. Perhaps I should go out for a pint. Need to get the lamb in to slow roast first. If I remember I will make my own mint sauce.

The flat is gradually warming up although I have sense of doom over the boiler. A friend took a look yesterday and thinks it is the thermostat but also pump sounding dicey. Not what I need with winter beckoning.

But I cannot be too downhearted. There are many good things in my life. My wonderful and varied friends. My music and my books. The priceless gift of cooking well. And dad and Miriam. We will be reunited at Christmas. Not that far off now I suppose. Time goes so quickly.

Let us hope that my mood stays stable in the long upcoming week. Some days I'm so anxious it is a hard to get out of bed. Today has just been a different fear. Yet fear lurks and links so precariously to my mood. The long haul of this week will be the acid test.

I Heard a Voice.

We Remember.

On this day we remember those who died in war. Having recently completed reading my cousin Karen's book on her grandfather's experiences in the Great War it is once again poignant and humbling. Not often on a Saturday I missed any ceremony. Much of that will take place tomorrow at the annual Remembrance Day parades. With the world as it is the poppy our symbol for those we remember has become a more controversial symbol. Don't let the fascists steal it and recall we remember all those who died not just the jolly white Englishman. I always wonder where those who we fought against fit into all this. They too must be remembered. War is a terrible thing.

Closer to home I've survived another week. Tense and long I think I did okay. But it will grind relentlessly on come Monday. The upcoming week is also likely to be long. I will be triaging all week as my colleague Sammie is off. But it will not end on Friday at 4 pm. I am being required to attend an open day next Saturday. I use that word specifically as I was given no choice. Well I was on disability grounds but how would that be for my colleagues who are not disabled?

Each week that goes by I become more wary of the disableisation of the world. The mental health campaigns have got us on the map in a way never seen before. But are we pathologising the normal? Is it fair or unfair to give the disabled extra time? Or extensions? Or exam adjustments? Where does that leave those not impaired? I have no power to change that but only to follow what I'm told to do.

With the weekend here my kitchen will once again be a focus. My boiler is playing up again so slightly on edge. But although I dreamed anxious dreams of work I'm not in a bad place. A squid stew will be tonight's fare. Tomorrow roast lamb. Will the heating hold up on this cold weekend? I can only cross my fingers.

Wherever you are and whatever you are doing, have a good time and enjoy the break. I will return soon.

I Heard a Voice.

Dreaming of Far Away Produce.

The vibrant colours, twisted gnarly shapes and intense flavours of Mediterranean vegetables are a long way off what I can get in leafy but not so sunny Hertfordshire. My mind drifts to Provence and Tuscany, to Palma and Greece. They do vegetables so well in those sunnier climes. I have to make do with what I can find in the supermarket. I do tend to buy the more expensive varieties out of gluttony, arrogance, experimentation and general adventure. Most of the time they fall short though.

Tonight I did a rare venture into pasta. And much to my surprise the tomatoes I used and slow cooked with shallot, garlic and basil last night had a wonderful flavour. A fine sweetness that comes of slow cooking tomatoes. I was quite pleased with the outcome.

My food ventures have gone well. My fest of game at the weekend. An accidental rib session with Sarah at Hakalok. A huge pork chop with baby roast potatoes and rosemary and garlic. And tonight's success. This is what keeps me going in the rocky waters I'm negotiating at the moment.

I have fought back from my Sunday despair. My feared outcome did not transpire. I still have heating and hot water. And my anxiety is much more in check. That said it has been an intense, busy and at times difficult week. It is so sad to see tormented young people battling things that make no sense. Such can be the cruelty of mental illness. I have a lot of people struggling at the moment.

Now in my warm flat I have escaped all that. Tonight's opera is Mithradate Re di Ponto. I have not had anything to drink except a glass of milk. No time for tea today. My instinct says pour a glass of white Rioja. Do I or don't I?

I can shut the world out tonight and once again indulge myself. Please do take care to do the same if you can. I will probably see you all again at the weekend.

I Heard a Voice.

Haunted by What Might Have Happened.

There is a cold wind outside. The sun has been around on a cold autumn day but I felt the chill on my short venture out into the world. That merely meant a drive out to The Rose and Crown at Tewin for a pint then a tough drive back into the sun.

I woke after a rough night of anxiety fuelled dreams. All is not well with me today. My fears from Friday's work are haunting me. What might have been? Did I get things so very wrong? Feels like it is crowding in on my present. Sunday is supposed to be a day of rest not of worry. Added to which I think my boiler is once again faltering. It keeps clicking on and off. The pressure is fluctuating and my fear is growing.

Shakiness has plagued me at times ever since I became unwell all those years ago. Today it is intense. I'm trying to calm down with some opera but it's not really very effective. Tension fills the air. Why oh why is anxiety so crippling?

It has to happen at a weekend when there is nothing I can do. Will the system collapse and leave me with no heating or hot water? Do I dare take a bath?

In the grand scheme of the world it means little. It will pass and will be fixed. Out there in that world politics is once again being engulfed in scandal. This seems to stem on from the Hollywood scandal. I don't think I would like to be in the public eye. Too easy to be shot at. I understand that there are clearly times when powerful men can be threatening to those weaker than themselves. I have no reason to disbelieve what is being said but I cannot see a solution.

What I do know is that casual sexism is not just confined to men. Some of the things that are said in my office in jest would not be utterable by me. I would be up in a disciplinary hearing were I to make comments about women that I regularly hear from some women. I'm not at all bothered by that but it is a strange world. Unequal yes but not always in the obvious way. It is sometimes hard to hear statements of equality that are one sided.

I don't really know what I'm writing about today and feel I'm rambling aimlessly. Not sure even why I decided to post today. It's not my best day but I guess I can write on good and bad. Today feels bad. Let us hope tomorrow is better.

I Heard a Voice.

The Half Way Point.

As I headed to my car yesterday at the end of the working day I was second guessing myself. I had to make some difficult decisions and I wasn't certain I had got them right. That it was something of an onslaught is a given. The previous day I had had a 2 hour meeting with the Crisis Team as they are loaded up with students. I have yet to find out if the risks I took have paid off. It could be a bumpy Monday if I'm wrong. But I am secure in the knowledge that I have reached the half way point of the term and am still standing.

Last night I went out with Sarah to The Neem Tree. It's a pretty good curry house and we had a lovely evening. I didn't fear for the morrow and was able to cast aside any doubts I had. Sarah was on fine form as ever and enjoying a break from work. It is good to do that at times.

Sadly the night was not so good. I slept sporadically despite feeling very tired when I got in. I was up comparatively early and found myself battling a sore throat and inflamed tonsils. I will be fine but on such a wet day there wasn't too much cheer to be had. I will persist though in making the weekend a good one.

A rabbit stew is in the offing tonight. As the colder wetter days set in I bought my first sprouts of the new season so go along with my stew. I'm very partial to sprouts. And continuing the hearty fare and game theme I have a pheasant to roast tomorrow.

So on this Saturday afternoon I have Haydn playing and a new book to commence. I finished my cousin Karen's book on Wednesday and am now ready to get going with A A Gill's Lines in the Sand. I think a film in the warm would be good later.

Do wrap up on this wet gloomy day, stay in and eat well. That is what the weekend is for.

I Heard a Voice.

Nearly Full.

A huge yellow moon lit up the sky as I drove home through an unusual amount of traffic having left work late. It was not quite full and I look forward to the splendour and pomp when it reaches its monthly zenith.

Given the intensity of the day the moon may well have been full. Yes some of my brethren are affected by that. What a day. Had everyone turned up I would have seen seven people including an emergency. My manager had to deal with three emergencies. It seems it is all going off.

Yet as I sit here listening to Tosca with a glass of Rioja I feel contented and serene. This week has thus far gone quite well. I believe that come Friday we will have reached the mid point of term.

Given how self critical I can be it surprised me to learn from two people today how much they admire how self aware I am. I call it criticism but as is often the case the mirror we see for ourselves in our self destructive way is not what reflects back to those around us. At my worst I am convinced no one wants to be around me and they just humour me. But that is to do a disservice to my many varied and kind friends.

So for just a few days I will put aside my self doubt and self pity and say I'm doing okay.

Rare steak helped set me up for opera night. The Rioja is a favourite of mine and I always love revisiting Puccini. There is cause to celebrate in my indulgence, my friend James got engaged yesterday on his 35th birthday. I have a horrible feeling he will require me to go on some debauched stag weekend. I'm getting too old for that shit so maybe I will politely decline.

We're hurtling towards the weekend so on this first day of November, keep going and enjoy being in the present. If your present is not good fight for better. Sometimes I struggle to do that but today I won.

I Heard a Voice.

Hearty Food Against the Chill.

The mild atmosphere of recent days has disappeared. In its place a chillier sharper day. The heating clicked on for the first time although only briefly this afternoon. Thankfully my fear re the boiler and heating coming on have proved false.

As far as I can tell last week went well. Short in the sense I only worked four days but long in content. I think I did quite a lot of good. Uplifted after a tough Friday by that feeling and the comment from a very troubled young man that "you so get this" and buoyed by the generosity of another young man deep in depression presenting me with a sketch of a pig in a little black frame I feel contented. If you have been to my flat you will know I like pigs.

Saturday was just Saturday. I have chosen to spend this weekend with some me time. Yes I will go to the pub later but I did not issue any invitations. Had some excellent Singapore noodles with Yang while my watch was being repaired. In the supermarket I found fresh sprats, at last winter indulgence. A hearty venison casserole is in the oven and smelling divine. Just what is needed on this cold day. A bottle of Rioja breathes and The Magic Flute plays. A good way to spend a weekend.

A single rib of beef is in the fridge to be roasted o so rare tomorrow. I do sometimes live so well. Yet I still get downhearted despite all the good in my life. Driven by these sudden crippling stabs of anxiety I teeter on the edge of despair sometimes. Fortunately today is not one of those days.

May you all enjoy the rest of this weekend, wrap up warm and be indulgent. And while I'm at the good cheer a huge well done shout out to Ros on her efforts to appease the inspectors; you deserved that night in the pub.

I Heard a Voice.

Double Date with Palestrina and Handel

On a day in which I seemed to be staring into the fall sun whenever I stepped outside quite a lot went right. I can truly say I did some good today. The remnants of that success are reams of unread e mails, a trail of not completed paperwork and not a little fear each day I wake up and go to work. But I cannot do everything at this busy time of year.

This shortened week has been okay in many ways. I enjoyed my Monday off although when I wandered over to The Hedgehog late in the day it was full of some quite unpleasant people I've never seen before. Why do people have to be so rude and aggressive when they have been drinking? I suspect cocaine may have played a part as well, vile substance that is still swilling around every corner of every town as it has for at the least the last 15 years.

As I sit in my flat those worries are not on me. Work can wait until tomorrow. Those people will probably not be in the pub later. And I'm enjoying my Wednesday evening. My musical dates for the day have been Palestrina in the car and now back at home I have met up with my old friend Handel again.

The only little irritant is the continued errant plumbing in this flat again. It always seems to rear its ugly head and raise my fears when I thought things were okay. Each time I get someone to look at the cistern and boiler I'm always told they are fine. But they are not fine. The problems only ever present when those with the ability to sort them out are not here. These things are sent to try us I suppose.

My thoughts this week have also been with my friends who are struggling. Beka had a fall, Jayne has been unwell and Ros is facing the dreaded Welsh equivalent of Ofsted. For those who are viewing my musings from afar Ofsted are the people who inspect schools in the UK and spread terror amongst even the most skilled and hardest of teachers. Tough times.

I'm often vexed by the idea of how one quantifies a job. I struggle with my mine. There is no clear outcome measure other than that consistently on 5% of the students I support drop out. I don't always change the world but there is an end game unlike in mental health services. I guess four time nominated and twice shortlisted for awards that has to mean something.

The weekend is nearing. I think I will do nothing after my recent engagements. I'm going out to dinner with my friend Hannah tomorrow. She was once one of my students. Been ages since I saw her. I will enjoy that. Then retire to my own devices from Friday until Monday.

I Heard a Voice.

Gently Melting Away.

Hi everyone, you don't often see me on a Monday. But here I am on this chilly day, away from work and feeling splendidly calm. The Marriage of Figaro plays in the background, I have done some cleaning and some reading. And now to speak with you all.

Today is a sharp contract to yesterday. It was a day filled with anxiety from the moment I woke up at 8 am to the moment I stepped in the door at the end of my day in London. A glorious win for my Rams, a lively and exciting experience and atmosphere the gnawing anxiety underpinned everything. But make it we did although leaving at the half was a shame.

Now a day on that anxiety has gently melted away. I slept well and long, didn't have any worries and have been able to relax.

My trip into town was fruitful, found an unexpected sale and bought a couple of things. My fridge is replenished and I have a pork shoulder joint just coming up to room temperature to roast later. Having missed out yesterday it is imperative to keep up tradition.

After shopping I popped out to a very quiet Waggoners for a bowl of soup and a pint. Got talking to a local businessman about mental health and the world. A useful meeting as he is writing a book and found some of my knowledge helpful. He is a cynic who I suspect whole heartedly endorses Brexit and probably voted UKIP until it no long had a purpose but I did enjoy talking to him.

Thoughts of tomorrow remain distant as I enjoy the peace. My mood is around plus one, not bad but could be better. My recent buzz seems no more than a memory today. Will it come again? Will I cope with what is to come? The answer is an almost certain yes. I always do one way or another but sometimes I do need to step back. No need for that in the present.

With that I'm back to Mozart and my gentle afternoon. Hope you all have a gentle week too.

I Heard a Voice.

Trees Swaying and Leaves Swirling.

It's a blustery October day out there. As I gaze out of the French doors that lead to nowhere in my flat I can glimpse the sun sporadically, see the trees bending and swaying and whirlwinds of falling leaves thrust upward on the autumn wind. They say there is another storm coming. But it's very manageable here.

Earlier I ventured out for my normal Saturday. The butcher, a few shops and wonton soup with Yang. I bought Rick Stein's new book The Road to Mexico. I decided to spend a little extra and buy in the book shop to keep it afloat rather than enjoy the kindness of the supermarket where it was considerably cheaper. Where would I be without book shops? I'm actually having a clear out of books which pains me enormously but I'm running out of space.

When I got home I finally managed to do some long overdue domestic tedium. I really ought to do some more but currently I'm enjoying a break with Mozart string preludes and fugues and coming to talk to you all on here.

The week that has just gone by was not as tough as the previous one but was long and busy. Still I march on slowly a step at a time. There is really no chance of pacing myself. Others in my team are dog tired already and we are only at the quarter mark of semester A so a long way to go.

I didn't sleep as well as I'd hoped and had some waking anxiety but it has calmed now. I'm thinking of Jayne today as she is not very well. But she has a lots of chocolate for later which she tells me will be her Saturday evening indulgence.

Mine will be the rest of my prawns. Did a wonderfully fiery Thai curry last night with dry curry paste I made myself and basil leaves. Certainly needed so milk after that.

Nigel is coming for lunch tomorrow before we head to Twickenham. I'm glad I booked Monday off for a little respite. I bumped into my third friend named Sarah yesterday and we have a tentative arrangement for lunch at The White Horse at Burnham Green. That will be nice if it pans out.

For now I bid you farewell until next time. Enjoy the weekend whatever you are doing.

I Heard a Voice.

PS The Provencal squid stew was a triumph along with the cheese and wine night at The Hedgehog.

A Jaundiced Sky.

An eerie yellow light descended on the country on Monday afternoon. The great storm didn't really impact where I live but that sky, almost like it had jaundice unnerved many people and social media awash with photos of a pale yellow or bright orange sun bringing talk of the apocalypse. Well the Four Horsemen didn't appear, the light faded into darkness and life returned to normal.

It was an effect I had seen before with certain winds from the south bringing up desert dust which changed the colour of the daylight and left cars covered in fine orangey sand. That was apparently what happened. Living so far south in Kent brought different atmospherics to even areas inland. The world will now move on with its obsessions with these difficult times.

I have reached the mid point of week 4. For a fleeting few hours when I came home last night I had stopped chasing my tail and caught up with myself. Of course by the time I turned up this morning I was behind again.

In my scale of good I did some today. Working with young people with complex mood disorders can be some of the best things I do. I teach them to live through the buffeting winds of mood swings, slow down the highs and lift the lows. Today we talked of where we want to be and where the world wants us to be, they are not the same thing. Currently I think I'm in plus territory although anxiety remains high. I tick each day off.

Next week will be shorter as I have Monday off. Nigel and I are going to Twickenham on Sunday to watch the Los Angeles Rams play. In the 37 years I have followed them I've never seen them in the flesh. So Sunday should be good.

Back to today though I'm cooking a Provencal squid stew and waiting for Sarah to come round after work to share it with me. La Clemenza di Tito is my accompaniment on this night, not done much Mozart this week.

After the stew I will join Francois and Bronwen for cheese and wine at The Hedgehog, Francois is supplying a fine South African red and I have supplied the cheese. Should be a good night.

See you soon.

I Heard a Voice

A Tale of Two Sarahs.

That night was unusually warm and balmy. Humid and almost tropical it was not a straightforward October evening. All along what was called Pits Passage people had left windows open as they went to bed. It was 1987, I was in my Oxbridge entrance term at school. Yes I well recall this day 30 years ago. By morning southern England had been devastated by a mighty storm the likes of which may only come once in a life time on these curious islands. They say another hurricane will hit tonight but I'm not expecting much here.

Oxford never panned out but Cambridge did. Oh how the years that followed changed my life. Who could have known that the bright but angry youth would within four years have a complete psychotic breakdown and end up in a run down Victorian lunatic asylum? That was the start of the journey that led me to where I am now, jaded mental health professional who questions himself more than ever and only sees the flaws. Where is that confident arrogant man who took on the greatest psychiatric minds and won? Where is that energetic and fanatically driven man who was going to change the world? Is there anything left?

There were plenty of doubts this week. It was hard going. Once again I was confronted by the mirror test and almost found wanting. Still with the remnants of my autumn cold clinging on I came close to "I can't do this anymore".

But survive I did. In no small part this was down to my friends, two of whom I dined and lunched with this week. A tale of two Sarahs, Sussex Sarah on Wednesday and Kiwi Sarah who by coincidence now lives in Sussex yesterday kept me sane. And for that I'm eternally grateful.

Not entirely sure my diet enjoyed the experience but I did. Rare steak and chips with Malbec and pudding at The White Horse on Wednesday then pigeon breast with black pudding followed by medium rare pork tenderloin with a bottle of Malbec and cheese to end at The White Hart. How good is that?

Is order restored as I prepare for week 4? Puccini and Haydn have been with me today. So too Gary and Ali who came for roast chicken. That has to keep me in today not tomorrow.

Can I keep my anxiety at bay? Will my mood slump? I do hope not. But I must focus on what I do well and I did do some things well this week rather than obsess about that bad which whilst rarer did come to bite me in recent days.

Welcome back my audience, figures are buzzing again and enjoy this quiet Sunday.

I Heard a Voice.

Still Our Day?

I returned from Kent on Sunday under leaden skies, steely grey with rain and menace. But it didn't fall. That return journey still featured streaming cold although not as bad as it had been and a sore shoulder. Ahead lay another week. I should have stayed home longer but there was simply too much to do. Yesterday's comment was "you look like shit", today's "you're looking frazzled". We are only two days in and I'm struggling.

Once upon a time I would have been celebrating on this day. For it is World Mental Health Day. I wonder now how healthy it is to identify as being mentally ill? It was an epitaph I gave myself for over a quarter of a century. It was a day I celebrated with my peers to acknowledge we have something to offer the world rather than the burden some see us to be. But what of now? Since moving to the University every year I have felt hugely pressured to do some great event in which we all come together. At the start of my 11th year we have only managed something once. Today it was only mentioned in passing. No one on the network of advisors had anything to say.

Having been accused relatively recently of changing sides and betraying what I wrote about us and them in Charon's Ferry I have more ammunition to deem myself a failure than a success. At the end of day on which I saw no one but couldn't get anywhere near completing what I needed to do the temptation was to eat shit, watch shit and drink shit. Oh how take away ribs with extra chilli might have lulled me into comfort feeling. Or several beers? And watching nothing in particular. But I didn't succumb.

Instead I did some lovely clams that tasted of the sea, had a chilled glass of Italian white wine and realised that to survive I must let go and stop attacking me. Harder to do when in pain and feeling pretty ropy but I will not last long if I give in when all seems lost and I am defeated.

The inbox will be there tomorrow. Despite my doubts I will do some good. And as Peter and Kym remind me it is only a job.

Take care out there wherever you are. There's a long way until the holidays so take it a day at a time and a task at a time.

I Heard a Voice.

PS Incidentally, Charon's Ferry came out in paperback on this day in 2013.

Uninspiringly Grey.

In sharp contrast to yesterday, the grey and uninspiring dull of autumn has pervaded today. It's damp and unpleasant out and I'm struggling to stay warm. My cold carries on and is now accompanied by my neck problem of the summer reappearing. I'm not great with posture which probably doesn't help but when I sleep I sleep. I cannot help waking in pain.

Having sacrificed two days to my cold I did manage to escape gingerly to Kent. It is nice to be away but in truth neither dad nor I are at our best. A mild melancholy sits uneasily on my mind. Am I depressed or just going through an unwell autumn blues?

Sleep is foremost on my mind. I didn't wake until late despite the neck pain. Am I wasting my leisure time on being not good? The furthest I have ventured from dad's flat was to The Bell. As I sat with a glass of ale I reminisced on what had been in that establishment, once my local, now an after thought. Why does time press so fast? None of us had grey hair in those days. Despite my battles with mental illness there were some joyous times there. It is where I met Jayne. And so many others.

I'm saddened to learn that my great friend Mandy will be giving up her butcher shop in the new year. Another casualty of the laziness of modern life. One day good independent butchers will only exist in sepia photos on pub walls. Is this progress? Once we took for granted such special places. Now we miss them. The young will not remember much longer. The old ways are dying.

So on this dull Saturday back where I once was I'm trying to spin a good light on what is rather than what might have been. The cold will pass and I will be well again. And then it is back to the daily chaos of a career long in coming and fast in passing. Take care out there in the gloom.

I Heard a Voice.

Streaming Cold and Weird, Toxic Dreams.

When I posted last night I certainly never dreamed I would be back on here less than 12 hours later. In fact I was expecting to return from the seaside on Saturday. But sometimes the unexpected takes me down a different route.

Every year there is talk of freshers' flu. In the last decade I have avoided it. In fact maybe this year is the same but I woke at 6 am with a streaming cold, sneezing fits and general nastiness. Knowing how full on this time of year can be it seemed wise to stay away and avoid felling the entire department. I don't feel dreadful but I do want to stop anything worse happening so home I am and no doubt people will thank me for that.

I slept most of the morning and emerged late to wrap myself up. As so often happens that sleep was accompanied by some pretty vile viral dreams. My battles with night time chaos are well documented on here. Mainly under control they sometimes come back to haunt me. And always at their weirdest when that evil invention the virus invades me.

This afternoon will be a take it easy sort of time. Got to recover quickly before I get too far behind. Unusually for me I do not today feel guilty for staying home. I'm convinced I did the right thing. Let us hope it is all over very quickly.

The wider world goes on as usual. I have thus far made no comment on the annual lunacy that is the party political conferences that keep us entertained as the leaves fall and the temperature dips. Could the Labour party really have made up what happened yesterday? A coughing fit, a comedic prank and then the set falling apart. Mrs May has been embattled since her surprise election disaster. Surely she cannot go on now after such a comedy of errors at her conference speech?

Only a few months ago I was fearing the lurch to the right that seemed to be sweeping across Europe. Now is the left really rising? Will Mr Corbyn make it as the most unlikely Prime Minister of all time? The coming weeks may decide that although when an election will be I don't know. If he wins when that happens I hope that my belief that it is the politics of fantasy is proved wrong. The moral message is very compelling, but is it real and practical?

My country is now so divided and uncertain. No one knows where we are heading least of all me. Let us hope it is to a more settled and united space than we have now.

With that I return to my duvet. See you when I'm better.

I Heard a Voice.

That was an Industrious Day.

Hello. It is October and I come on here under what I think is a full moon which I can't actually see. Where have you all gone? My audience whoever you are has deserted me. There was a spike on Monday but other than that no one seems to be interested in what I have to say. But say it I will.

We are half way through week 2, still no one sectioned and only manageable drama. That said I have been busy. Buried for a couple of days in juggling six screens on my computer and trying in vain to instigate our new plan for triage. It is too early to say if it is working or not but I am getting very bogged down. That cuts into time with students. Today though was back to back with students. Had they all come I would have seen six which is a lot. The sacrifice was e mails. I barely responded to any.

After that I'm still standing, feeling pretty good but aware that it is a long haul during this first term and inevitably the going will get tougher.

In my silence of recent days I have composed but not posted a lot for on here. Is it really Saturday since my last visit? My kitchen adventures continue to be a barometer for my sanity. Sublime pan fried trout, slow roast lamb, Chettinad chicken, chicken with cashews and chillies and then tonight chicken with Holy basil. It has been fun and come out really well.

Now it is time to rest, read and listen. Opera night began with Peter Grimes, o how marvellous is Britten's evocation of dawn over the sea?

This weekend I will see the sea. I've missed it. A visit to see dad is in the offing so a little escape. I'm not sure I will make in on here until I'm down there. So a postcard from the seaside may come your way then.

I Heard a Voice.

Resistance is Crumbling

As a child I was not a fan of radishes or watercress. Too peppery in flavour for a little boy who was adventurous in the food stakes but found some things too much. Four decades later I rediscovered both tastes today and decided I rather like them. It took to buy expensive organic watercress to discover what was normal back in the 1970s. Food had flavour. Now we struggle to find such heights. The radishes were a delight with my lunch although I suspect I might have to raise the price to discover the old pepperiness.

You find me on a Saturday night after a day of contrasts, bright morning, golden and russet hues of the fall, a colder afternoon and now to the now. La Clemenza di Tito plays as I sip a chilled Italian white. I consumed a lovely organic brown trout with my watercress. Stuffed with Serrano ham and topped with my more ham, garlic and parsley, just a squeeze of lemon and a delight was produced.

I've enjoyed today. It is the day after pay day and finding myself in better shape than I anticipated I finally succumbed to the recent temptation. I was not too extravagant but my pile of waiting books has swelled, I have finally spent my John Lewis voucher and now own an Italian made moleskin jacket. As I often am I was uncertain when I got home but donning it this afternoon I am pleased.

The indulgence of a hair cut and wet shave with hot towels marked the first weekend after being paid. After a light lunch I headed out to The Rose and Crown at Sandridge to meet Peter. Sadly Kym couldn't make it but we had a fine afternoon. Words of encouragement and sanity after what panned out to be a long and at times difficult first week of term. It could have been worse but after my last post things hotted up.

Still in one piece I'm happy in my relaxed Saturday night away from it all. I do hope you're enjoying your Saturday. Next time I address the world of ether on the web it will be October. See you then.

I Heard a Voice.

Shoaling Sprats.

Some days in late summer and early autumn when mum was alive and enjoying her sea swimming the shoals of sprats came so close the shore chased by mackerel and other predators she could literally scoop them out of the surf onto the beach and take them home. Those were always good days for her, the freshest sprats for breakfast taking her back to her childhood growing up in a fishing town.

Mum never tired of her love of fish. I got fed up with it and eschewed it for years. Now in middle age I'm rediscovering some of the good things that she loved and slowly realising that beyond her difficult anger she knew and admired many things.

The reason I mention this today is that my travels took me into the centre of town on market day and the fish man had a barrel load of sprats. First I have seen them this season. Would have so liked to buy some but not really practical going back to work and leaving them all afternoon. Last winter I bought them from time to time in the supermarket. Now they are back I hope to again.

My reason for being in town was delivering my annual lecture to the social work students by telling my story. I almost cancelled. This was partly due to anxiety, partly that I'm fed up of telling my story and partly as I'm somewhat disillusioned by the increasing lack of engagement that such important students show. It is the lack of interesting questions that puts me off. It makes me very uneasy that people as young as 18 can train to be social workers.

Of course many have lived experience and want to change the world. We all go in as dreamers and believe we will do it. We never achieve that. The lack of interesting questions makes me question myself. Am I that tired, cynical and jaded that that change the world mentality is ridiculous after years of buffeting on the wave of mental health? I wish all well but I find myself increasingly getting into bad dismissive habits.

Some of this is down to the fluctuations of my mood. As I was the other week I am prone to dismissive arrogance. When it is elsewhere and I'm stressed I can look at people as a problem rather than working with them to find a way forward.

Being as I am I do not like getting things wrong. And wrong I get them frequently. Why I dwell so much on my failure?

With luck I will see my friends Kym and Peter on Saturday. Whilst I have my issues with therapists they are two whose advice I often seek. It is time for a restorative lunch and sensible words.

That said I'm not in a bad place. We have so far had no disasters. I have spent too much time on bureaucracy and not enough with students. But we are all still standing. Day 3 of week 1, God there is a long way to go.

But on we go, Ken Hom, Mozart and Ernest Hemingway are my companions on tonight's switch off. Tomorrow is another day.

I Heard a Voice.

Any Other Saturday.

The chill, condensation and mist that greeted me on Thursday morning are gone. Autumn has gone back to bed again although the beauty of the trees endures. It's a nothing kind of day, just another Saturday.

You can accuse me of being a creature of habit. I hit the butcher, pottered around in town then lunched with Yang. My mood seems back in its normal place as the greed that overcame me as I looked at books was dispelled. A couple of weeks ago with it beginning to soar I might have bought the seven cook books that I desired today. But why? I have so many already. Were I do every recipe from every cook book I have I would be the longest living man in the history of the world. Probably the fattest too. That will never happen. Let greed stay buried from my psyche for the foreseeable future.

About five miles to the south of here the storm that has potentially been brewing since A Level results day will be arriving. Staying away from e mail I do not know whether it has erupted yet. Will I get engulfed this week when I return? Experience learnt hard over the last decade makes it entirely likely that at least one young person will have been detained under the Mental Health Act by this time next week.

What will I report at the end of the coming week? Am I ready? I'm not sure. There have been tensions already which does not bode well. I will try to hold my own and come home each evening having done some good. A somewhat unnerving Friday was tempered by the fact that I did make at least one student's day before I went home.

And this weekend? Sussex Sarah is coming for dinner. Will be nice to see her. She has not been well recently so I hope we can celebrate a return to health. I am doing pork chops with Calvados. I'm supposed to flambe them but I'm a bit concerned about fire risk so may just aim to evaporate off the alcohol rather than burning it off. Sarah is bringing wine and dessert.

Assuming I wake up not too tired and feeling okay tomorrow I hope to visit the French Market at Hatfield House. The NFL comes to Wembley in the afternoon so opera day will be on hold. I have some topside of beef to roast. Let's hope it is as good and rare as when I last cooked it at dad's.

Enjoy the rest of the weekend.

I Heard a Voice.

Bronzed in the Autumn Sun.

Welcome to Sunday. A day of rest. The leaves are turning and looking a deep bronze colour in the autumnal sun. All is quiet in my world. Enjoy the peace while it lasts.

I woke a little early again. There was a mere hint of anxiety for a fleeting moment that another wakening takes me a day closer to chaos. I do not like chaos and the older I get the more difficult it is to live with uncertainty. And uncertainty will inevitably be a big part of the coming term. The international students are arriving this weekend. I often feel for them coming so far into such a strange world to pursue a dream in a land they little understand. I recall a few years ago a young man who had come from Pakistan saying that he expected the UK to be like the American Pie films, loads of girls, loads of sex and loads of partying. It is an image some cultivate. The reality for many is very different. The home students arrive next week.

As the sun shines down outside I have a pork joint in the oven with some seasoning and sage. I have listened to Handel's Saul and read most of the time. Much to my surprise I managed to re-pressurise the boiler at the flat. It has caused me no end of trouble since I moved here but I have my fingers crossed that all will work out when the cold comes.

According to the paper we could well be in for more than our share of storms in the next few months. No doubt we will blame global warming. I have not seen coherent evidence that that is the cause but I know it is an issue many worry about. But today storms are nowhere to be seen.

Dad has been visiting Miriam this weekend. Despite the rain they had a good time. He indulged in rare roast beef at The White Pheasant a country pub out in the fens. I guess he will be catching the train home this afternoon.

Last night I came across an advert for an Oxbridge mental health ball. All sounds great but I have probably more knowledge of the charities they have chosen to support which makes me quite wary. I have long felt that some of the mental health charities had caved in to funders and thus let down those like me who they were set up to support. Mind did a great deal for me but I know some in their dedicated staff paid quite a price for that. I would certainly never go back to Rethink my former employer. Yes they gave me a start and I learned a lot but they betrayed their core people and exploited the passions of those of us who felt it was important. Now years later those we supported back then are still adrift and unlikely to get the support they need.

For too long the agenda has been hijacked by the money men leaving the real purpose lost. My old tutor Christine from my PGCE days surprised me a great deal last year when she left Cambridge to take up a job with a consortium of academies. Yet she still feels strongly it is people that matter not systems. Oh that others followed that mantra. I certainly try to but sometimes fate conspires against me.

That is all from my address today. Have a good week.

I Heard a Voice.

A Wedding Perhaps?

Given the number of cars I saw parked neatly in a row in Ayot Green and the throng of well dressed people I can only assume there must be a wedding going on. I don't know if there is a church nearby but all the hallmarks of such a celebration were there. Whilst I of course wish the bride and groom well it did rather thwart my plan for a nice lunch in The Waggoners. 

As an alternative I drove out to The White Horse at Burnham Green for my lunch. Sadly the rather nice Headless Horse ale was off and I was staggered at the cost of a pint and what I expected to be a small plate of whitebait. When it came though I saw why, the portion was vast. It was very good and heartening on what looks like an overcast and slightly chilly autumn day. That autumn has arrived became evident trying to sleep in the week and feeling cold. This morning the winter duvet came out.

My first week back has been interesting. Plenty of signs of trouble ahead yet my anxiety stayed curiously out of focus. After my suggestion of buzzy times there was more to show that my mood may be a little too up. Twice people mentioned the word manic to me. Usually I try to keep a low profile in The Hedgehog but my sudden loud, rude and dismissive demeanour that accompanies what passes for mania in my life was quite evident.

Today I feel calm. There are urges to spend spend spend. But I resisted. I slept well but woke rather earlier than I had hoped. My mind was not on fire. The usual Saturday butcher and supermarket trip took place. There is pot roast chicken with chorizo, leeks and cider on the menu tonight for my guests. Hailing from Spain I even managed to get some Galician cider. I will serve it with bread and we will drink fizz. Is that wise? Not sure but who cares?

I fully expect this weekend to go in a flash as we hurtle towards the start of term. It is but a minor problem compared to the uncertain world beyond my little flat. Another terrorist attack took place in London yesterday. Why do people hate so much? I do not understand a world that is trying very hard to destroy itself. But human nature and its devastating destructive streak goes way back in time and likely long into the future. I'm relieved my friend Rebecca is back from visiting her in laws in South Korea. The volatility of some world leaders makes it arguably more dangerous than at any time of my life. But life goes on a day at a time. I intend to enjoy today, hope you do too.

I Heard a Voice.

Impulsively Healthy.

Who would have thought healthy living could be so expensive? Back in the cold and dark of last January I came out my GP surgery somewhat demoralised and dejected after being told I needed to change my ventures in the fine world of food in order to be healthier. It didn't really tell me anything new but it did launch the fine art of fish which I had never really learned after my mum cooked it so often I couldn't stand the sight of it.

After an okay day I knew I needed to shop and popped into Waitrose to get a rainbow trout. Fancied trying cooking it for the first time as I'm quite partial to trout. About 20 minutes later I emerged from the till with two full bags and £46 less in my bank account sans trout. God I can be impulsive sometimes. Was I making up for my missed trip to Borough Market? But I bought fine things.

So this evening as the chosen opera of Idomeneo plays I have been struggling to find a recipe for monkfish for tomorrow. I've settled on a roasted fillet on crushed potatoes with watercress and olive oil. I will have to shop again for watercress but I can live with that. It is courtesy of Rick Stein's Seafood Lovers Guide. Curiously enough as he filmed that series and wrote the book in 2000 he passed through Sandgate and Hythe. The fish monger he mentions is still there on the beach, the hotel restaurant he also mentions is long gone.

And how has it been now that I'm back in the world that frequents my every day living? The start of the week was disastrous. It's getting better and I think I'm doing fine. Not a lot has changed and the difficulties we face will still be there. But I'm not a sprawling mass of dejected anxiety. That is what might have been. Whether that may still come when term starts a week on Monday time will tell.

I had a most curious conversation with a relatively new colleague yesterday. It gave me a glimpse into how I am perceived as a ten year veteran of the place. People seem to think I have power. In truth I have none. Responsibility yes, power no. Those two are different things. She also seemed to wonder at what she perceived as my self control, my self understanding and my resilience. Those are not words I usually associate with myself.

I recall when Ros got back in touch three years ago fearing that I would be just as self absorbed and mean as I felt I had been all those years before. I dreaded what she might think yet her view was so far from that in my mind. I was very moved by a text she sent on my birthday saying how proud she was at what I had given to the world. That all sounds very weird to me.

Given that different people concur in a way I guess there must be something in it. God why don't I stop beating myself up? That said a couple of days ago I came home from The Hedgehog and wondered if my buzzy times had returned. I feared I had annoyed people with my sharp, fast, quick witted and at times dismissive comments that night. In fact it just made people laugh. But I have learned from bitter experience that elevated mood can be just as damaging to me as depression.

On that note I return to my opera. I'm doing okay, hope you all are too.

I Heard a Voice.

Cricketing Endings.

As I write on the final Saturday of my annual late summer holiday the cricket is coming to an end once again. What an interesting series England and West Indies has been. It looks as if England will win inside three days on a pitch of low scores. Another outcome is possible. As autumn beckons we prepare for an Ashes winter.

So where am I at the end of my break? I have had some marvellous days and some pretty ordinary ones. Yesterday was mixed. Lovely lunch with Miriam at The Waggoners. The last time I ate fish soup was in Fecamp in Normandy in the summer of 1990. That first summer of my secret madness before all came out into the open. The soup yesterday was very good followed by some excellent lamb cutlets and the wonders of French cheeses. The evening was less good, plans not working, frustration and at times outright anger.

A day later after poor sleep I guess I'm okay. The stomach problems are hanging on but I feel okay. A lovely lunch of Moroccan style eggs set me up, onions, tomatoes and garlic sweated off with pimenton and cumin, a couple of eggs poached in it topped with a little chopped coriander. Beautiful sweetness to the tomatoes. My efforts at finishing watching the first NFL game of the season foundered as for some reason the recording cut it short. But never mind.

Sunday lunch will be Sunday lunch tomorrow. Rarely eat at that time but will roast a chicken and invite friends to partake around 2 pm to clear myself for a night of NFL action.

Thoughts of next week have never really left me during the break. It has not been overwhelming but has entered my dreams and sometimes led to obsessive and anxious thinking. I have to get better at letting things go and not building things up to what they probably won't be.

Mentally I am better than yesterday, hardly flying but not drowning. The long haul awaits so I must gird up my mental resources and proverbial loins to take on the world in a way in which I can thrive not dive. I do not wish to sink to the depths of two years ago. Yes I graduated on that equivalent yesterday what happened next was most inglorious. I do not seek glory but safety and a taming of the anxiety will do me for now. Until then.

I Heard a Voice.

Came Home Empty Handed.

The sultry closeness of the early part of the week has given way to a gloomy autumn day with a hint of September chill. I'm not at my best having woken with my stomach doing cartwheels. That put paid to the vague idea I would venture down to Borough Market for a wander. Didn't want to risk going too far from home.

My mood is a little flat too so felt the urge to go and buy something. I also had to pick up my prescription. The brief hour or so I spent in town left me coming away virtually empty handed barring a Bath bun which I will have with my tea.

The prescription had it seems already been sent to the Chemist. My wanders in John Lewis with my voucher in hand once again came to nothing. So home I came.

Now Rossini plays, I have warmed up somewhat and the stomach feels calmer. Oh what a mixed bag my holiday has been.

That said I still recall fondly Helen's wedding, the wonderful Food Festival, the gathering of old friends the scale of which is rarely seen except at Christmas, and the glorious rare beef on Sunday.

Since then I have dined well, slept sporadically and spent the day in Cambridge with Sarah on Monday. And what a lovely day we had despite the cloying humid air that tired me out far more quickly than her. She is used to long dog walks so has a little more practice than me. I felt a little as if I had curtailed things early but my memories of that day still stay in the plus territory of this years old mood disorder.

I'm a little saddened that there have been mood, sleep and stomach interruptions. But we cannot have beautiful, happy, energetic days all the time. Work still lurks but this week is going slower than I expected.

With luck tomorrow will be more settled and upbeat. Struggling to know what to do with myself now but the world is my oyster tomorrow. And tomorrow will always dawn for good or ill. Let it be for good. Until next time.

I Heard a Voice.

Perhaps That Glass of Port was a Mistake.

Hanging Sunday. It didn't feel like I overdid things last night but waking very late within an hour I was feeling decidedly not at my best. That glass of port with some cheese late last night may prove to be one too many.

That has left me feeling somewhat lost again. Yesterday was mixed but got better. Today feels like one day too many. They had sold out of The Sunday Times in the shop so no Sunday reading. It looks dull and miserable out. I certainly don't fancy an afternoon pint as is often my way at weekends. So how to pass the day?

Classic FM once again accompanies my afternoon. Don't feel much like reading but can see little alternative. I ought to go for a walk but can't be bothered. It all feels something of a write off. I'm not alone in not being at my best. My friend Lynne who turned 50 on the same day I turned 48 had a big party last night and is feeling the after effects of overindulgence. She invited me over to mutually hang as she lives near Cambridge and knows I plan a visit tomorrow. Not feasible though with Sarah working.

The thought of getting up early to catch the train is not very attractive but needs to be done. I suspect the trip will enliven me as I so love going there.

Thoughts of work lurk despite my break. Usually I have let go any thoughts and fears on that front within a couple of days but this year they linger. As long as I stick to my mantra of a day at a time, did I do some good and it's just a job I will be fine. Carnage will ensue but I have made it past that before and can do it again. The living with uncertainty feels more challenging now than it did when I started exactly ten years ago today. God that seems a life time away now. Having never done a job for more than two and a half years before I would never have envisioned a decade. I suppose that is what is called a career. Given the mightily delayed start I struggle to regard myself as having a career. But I guess I have.

Whilst I hang on this Sunday my thoughts are with Ros who goes back to work tomorrow after the long summer break. She is going to new beginnings with different people in charge. Change I hope will be for the better. I know you will read this Ros so sending my best wishes for another year.

That's today's epistle over. I don't really have anything more to say and feel as if I have been rambling more than usual. See you all soon.

I Heard a Voice.

At Last Some Sleep.

Thank goodness for that, I finally managed to get some sleep. Resorted to increasing the Trimipramine for a couple of days. What a difference it made yesterday, uplifted, upbeat and enjoying a lovely afternoon. I slept again last night but woke feeling a little lost and uncertain.

The day is warm and humid. Yes September has arrived and each day I edge closer to the return. What is in store for me I have no idea, steadfastly refused to look at e mails. That can wait.

So what of today? I did a little cleaning, ate two lunches and am now listening to Classic FM. They have had a nice selection of music including Elgar's sublime Cello Concerto, love that piece. I'm still not certain what next. I have friends coming for dinner, chicken with bay, garlic and white wine, classic Spanish fare. Funny how my vague attempts at eating better forever make me feel hungry. I paid a weight price for slipping on the avoidance of cakes, chocolates and biscuits at work and have put some back on. How do people do this on a longer term basis?

My trip to Borough Market has been postponed as my friend Karen is unwell. We are hoping to put it all back until October. Still planning on taking Sarah to Cambridge on Monday. Let's hope the sun shines so we can go punting. I think a visit to Sala Thong is on the cards. Miriam is coming down on Friday so a late birthday lunch.

Whatever you are doing, stay safe, enjoy the weekend and relax.

I Heard a Voice.

PS Rodrigo just came on the radio, love a bit is guitar music.

Why the Hell am I Up?

It has just gone 7.30 am, the autumn sun is up and running on what looks at this point to be a chilly day and I'm on holiday. So why the hell am I up at this time? And posting? Ah, can't believe I can't sleep. I woke at 6.10 am and sensed that was it. I struggled on trying to sleep but to no avail.

For all the marvels of the last glorious weekend my sleep has been poor ever since I left work on Friday. You may recall that brings alarm bells for me. During my last break you may remember poor sleep led to a break down in mood. I really don't want to go through that again. Curiously enough this is not down to bad dreams. The dream challenges are largely not very evident at the moment.

My birthday yesterday was good despite the pouring rain. So many people called, text, messaged and posted on social media that it made me realise how lucky I am to have such friends. A lunchtime trip to The Waggoners was very pleasant. In the evening Dory and her family joined me with Yang at The Fu Hao. It was a slightly mixed experience as a number of tables were unexpectedly full and Yang was very flustered. The food was good though.

Today I think I will get the bus to St Albans. I had intended to go blackberry picking this week but what the country folk used to call "The Devil pissing on the blackberries" seems to have occurred early this year and they look spoilt in the woods. Oh well, there is always next year.

Even though I'm a third through my holiday thoughts of work are still popping into my mind. I'm not overly anxious but I'm aware that when I'm back the great storm of my eleventh academic year will soon be upon us. Two years on from graduation only parts of my predictions have come to pass. Life is still rocky and unsettled. I cannot see anything coming that will assist me. It appears I remain where I was when I started way back on 3rd September 2007. I had so much more energy and optimism then. Now I at times struggle to get through a single day let alone a year. I must strive not to feel jaded.

On that note I will leave you. Do enjoy the autumnal hues, tinges and light. Soon the mists will rise on the Mimram and my favoured season will be here in more than just hints.

I Heard a Voice.

Return of the Exile.

On Saturday I will mark a decade of living here in Hertfordshire. Having spent a glorious long weekend back down in Kent I'm not sure whether I'm an exile from Kent or from Hertfordshire. Weekends like the one that just went by are what summer at the seaside is made of. It could not have been better.

The Food Festival was magnificent. Wondrous food and so many friends came by that I didn't see as much as I'm hoped. Then a surprise to discover that my old teaching friend Antony was down visiting his in laws, made a day complete. Further more yesterday I caught up with a former colleague Lisa. I last saw her at a funeral in 2012 just a few months after mum died.

It all made me lean more towards going back sometime. It felt like an escape ten years ago. Perhaps on a wet winter day it would be less enticing but for just a few days I saw my kind and wonderful past. Much of that was due to taking risks, getting out, overcoming my anxiety and getting to meet people. It took a long time to meet people up here but it is now as if I have two homes.

The cricket looks like a tense finish. I haven't seen any while I was away so I have missed a classic so I'm told. I made Pimm's earlier and quite fancy another but not sure with no ice and no chilled lemonade left. Perhaps I will have tea instead.

Tomorrow looms big, 48. There is not much of a plan although I'm hoping Dory will come down from Hitchin. Some time since we saw each other. Still waiting for pay day on Thursday so better not to overdo it.

See you all soon.

I Heard a Voice.