The aroma of pork slow roasting is beginning to pervade around my flat. Seasoned with salt and pepper on a bed of fennel I have returned to my old favourite. Mozart's La Finta Giardiniera plays in the background and The Sunday Times lies partially read. Sunday is here again and I await the Boat Race later with Pimm's. There is but one problem, where is the sun?
Clearly nature in this part of leafy Hertfordshire is not so sunny. No rain but no sun either. That said given the storm conditions of last year's race I guess people will settle for a little calm even without the sun.
Much as I try to avoid them thoughts of tomorrow keep drifting into my conscious mind. That is not good. The rigours of last week still hang over me unresolved impairing my enjoyment of what should be a fun Sunday.
Tomorrow will come soon enough but there is a hint of a silver lining. If all works out I hope to spend a few hours with the wonderfully talented, friendly and wise friend Ros on Wednesday. She has completed another gruelling academic term at her school and I'm hoping she will manage to rest and recuperate during this holiday season. I always enjoy her company and find a boost to my flagging sense of what I am and what I'm not. My mental health mind tells me all manner of bad things. Yet the evidence points to the contrary. I will not succumb to the great deceiver that is mental illness. At least not as far as I can stop it. I don't get things right all the time but I win a few battles and should be be proud of that.
With that I leave you and submerge myself in the genius that is Mozart. May your day be fruitful, peaceful and full of joy. See you soon.
I Heard a Voice.
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