Should Have Seen it Coming

One would have thought that after all these years I would be aware of my danger signs. God I work hard enough with my students teaching them how to live with mental illness. To know their triggers and what to do about things. When to slow down, when to step back and when to acknowledge accepting a temporary defeat in winning the war.

All the signs were there. The broken sleep. The restless lost Monday. The not eating enough. The anxiety about pay day. I should have known what would happen next.

Yet I was stunned yesterday that having had the best sleep all week my mood fell through the floor and I desperately wanted to shut the world out. I couldn't cook despite plans. I stared blankly in Hakalok as Bronwen came in for a take away. And all along I berated myself for falling yet again.

It has been a long time since I did it but I was forced to max up my medication last night and blew my mind into oblivion. Today is that oblivion. A desert of mental nothing, the desolation of an occasionally helpful mind and deep sense that I have failed once again. That is what pervades me today.

A once promising morning has turned into a dreary dullness. Pretty much like most of my week. They are playing some cricket which is good. At some point this afternoon I need to marinade and slow roast my leg of goat. My visitors may help or hinder my sense of me. Often they pick me up as Sunday drifts towards Monday.

Monday, o what will you bring? I have steadfastly avoided my e mail all week. Nothing good comes of checking that when I'm off. I have fears for tomorrow as with my mind so far away it could well be a tense affair. Or I could just snap out and be back in the land of the living when I wake up.

Once again this month I have over-posted. Fearing people will bore of my ramblings, numbers are way down this month, I'm trying to stick to a target of twelve posts per month. This is my thirteenth. Sorry to overdo it. Maybe the norm will return in August.

I Heard a Voice.

Vibrant Gentrification.

Time was when the wise and wary avoided going out in King's Cross at night. As the gateway to Cambridge my spiritual home I have long passed through there. I always felt uncertain at night. There was a palpable sense of unease. Drugs, seedy strip joints, street robbery and homelessness at times marred this area of London.

Now the world has changed. Huge resources have been pumped in, the station is revitalised, the streets are teeming, culture has revived, the hipsters are out and vibe is buzzing. Some may consider this a bad thing. True many may no longer be able to live there. But is there a price on safety? Recent events have shown the divisions in our capital city. I'm aware that many of those who frequented King's Cross before were the poor, the dispossessed and the uncared for. Where they are now I do not know. But whatever one might think of the term gentrification I now feel safe to go there.

Thus last night I had a truly wonderful evening with my old school friend Tory. We met in 1986, two clever students drawn into the world of mixed 6th form after years of single sex education. She went on to Oxford whilst I headed back to Cambridge.

We rolled back the years in a buzzing vibrant bar restaurant feasting on small plates. Exquisite mackerel, padron peppers and a remarkable dish of griddled hispi cabbage with blue cheese and a sweet dressing. I tried quinoa for the first time and drank fine local beer. What a fabulous venue. Will definitely go back there even though I am far from a hipster or having even a hint of cool about me.

Earlier in the day I saw Katherine and baby William for the first time for coffee and cake. Having had a hard time it was delightful to see her looking so well. All in all a good day out.

My holiday is coming to an end. My sleep continues to be uneven but I have managed to catch up either in person or by phone with some of my favourite people so all worth while. I headed down to Hatfield today in search of goat. I have a leg that I will slow roast on Sunday with rosemary, thyme and garlic. There were a few eyebrows raised in the shop when I suggested I would roast rather than curry it but I'm certainly looking forward to a new venture.

The weekend now awaits. What will that bring? A most intriguing Test match is under way. I might seek out a country pub tomorrow afternoon. Cooking is a given, a rare venture into pasta tonight, prawns tomorrow. On this warm overcast day most importantly I need to keep hydrated. So lots of water.

Let us hope the weekend is kind to you all. Might see you Sunday or possibly in August. Did it really come round that quickly?

I Heard a Voice.

Midway Reflection.

At the midpoint of my holiday perhaps it is time to reflect. You may notice that I often blog on a Wednesday. There is no particular reason for this other than it is a day I neglect the TV and move on to other things. On this Wednesday of a damp and dreary disposition it has been a mixed bag. I'm delighted to be away from the norm. But my sleep is poor and some plans have not panned out.

Monday was something of a write off. So much better yesterday. I ventured by bus over to St Albans to meet Kevin whom I met when in Madrid with dad a couple of years ago. The gods smiled on us with a good travel service, the appearance of the sun and not too many crowds. We had a delightful Turkish lunch in a place I'd not tried before. The prawns were particularly fine. And I recognised the face of the kind lady who took our order and generally looked after us. Or rather she recognised me.

In the early years after I moved away whenever I visited mum and dad we would go out for Sunday lunch. And everywhere we went I always knew someone. Mum couldn't quite figure this out but having lived the lonely life of a lunatic I slowly overcame my fears and met people. Lots of people. Now ten years down the line here am I getting that well known again. Most of the time I do have a sense of belonging here after the desperate loneliness of my move.

Mentally I have been up and down. But mainly up. My venture out in the rain today was accompanied by a middling mood reading, not too up but not down. I'm not anxious. But I am at a bit of a loss once again how to fill my day. It was lovely having lunch with Yang. Wonton soup and a bottle of Tiger beer. I resisted my urge to spend just as I did yesterday on St Albans. It could so easily have been different had I been higher on the mood scale. And now I'm home with Radio 3 on and an afternoon of nothing ahead.

In a week I will no doubt be in a different place where a time for nothing will have passed into history. The summer will return I hope. I'm thankful that the wet windy day some had predicted came to nothing.

May the rest of your week be fruitful, relaxing and enjoyable. More soon.

I Heard a Voice.

Passing Time on a Dreary Day.

As a young child at primary school I hated wet days. I was so energetic and lively I so often wanted to tear around the playground and generally burn off far too much over enthusiasm. Wet play time was bad.

Now in my late 40s I have little energy at times. My motivation is sometimes suspect. And I struggle at times to get through the day without structure. So on this wet first day of my holiday I'm at something of a loss as to what to do. I did pop out for a while, had a wander and a sandwich, did the butcher then retreated from the cold damp day.

Thus far the afternoon has been spent listening to Radio 3 and reading. It was good to hear a live rendition at the proms of Mozart's wonderful clarinet quintet. But little else has cheered me. The return of nightmares in the slumber disturbed night did not set me on the path to a good day.

All a far cry from what might have been. My plan originally was to get the train to London to meet up with Krishna. But she cancelled as she has some things to sort out. There will be another time. It leaves today to be filled though. There is plenty I should be doing but robbed of any motivation I'm not getting very far.

Are holidays always like this? It is easy to go out and spend. But that isn't always good. Better to have taken time out after pay day but things didn't pan out for that. So I will lumber on a flat, not energetic way and think of better days. Tomorrow will be here soon and I will try as hard as I can to lift things and appreciate the time that I so lack when term is in full swing, I'm bombarded by demands and I long for those precious moments away from it all when I can recuperate and reflect on what good there is not what is not so good.

I Heard a Voice.

A Wasted Afternoon?

The rain has been coming down pretty much all afternoon. Heavy at times things do seem to have eased off now. Not the most appealing day to be going out. I did go out for a while, bought the pork to roast tomorrow and some things to go with it. But early home and wondering what to do.

Should I be indulgent and listen to sublime music and read culturally magnificent books? Do something productive in the flat? No, I chose instead to put my feet up, quaff Assam tea and watch TV. That there were three episodes of Rick Stein's Mediterranean Odyssey series back to back it made the choice pretty easy.

Now that is over I'm wondering what next? I have a plaice fillet for my supper. Mum loved plaice but I've never cooked it. Think I will simply pan fry it in butter, sprinkle with parsley and lemon juice and serve with new potatoes and some vegetables. But after that I'm undecided.

Given that the NFL season is now less than seven weeks away and my time will be dominated by watching five games a week I think I might take advantage of a nothing evening to watch a film. The alternative is Britten's Peter Grimes. I'm a big fan and it is some time since I listened. Oh what to do?

What I don't want to happen is my week goes so fast and I squander what time I have. Time always flies when I'm not working. My anxiety is firmly in its place having shouted at me last Sunday and Monday. The rest of the week passed and another Saturday is here. Ticking of time. We can never stop that.

I will report back soon on what has become of this break. Maybe tomorrow. Or maybe in the week. Look forward to talking again in the silence of a one way on line conversation.

I Heard a Voice.

Fruitful Frugality, Spending but Worth It.

Given that we are still some way off until pay day I'm struggling to curb my spending. Learning in recent weeks the value of our NHS by not having access to free care it has been a mightily expensive few weeks. Dentists and Physiotherapists are not cheap. Add in going away to the wedding and that I'm now on holiday until pay day I need to calm down. But I can't. There are two trips to London and a trip to St Albans planned. So by rights I should be frugal. But who can resist a bargain?

I have extolled the acerbic wit and genius of the late A A Gill on here a couple of times before. In an unexpected quiet need to kill time moment today I ventured into Waterstones. Lo and behold I discovered a copy of his book Pour Me, a memoir of has battle with alcoholism for a £1. Why not? What is another £1? It will add to my pile of books to be read at a date to be decided.

So what of now? As noted already I'm on holiday. Thank goodness for that. Actually the last few weeks have been much calmer. They often are in July and August. There was some debate yet again over whether someone was mentally ill or not today but I hope I was clear on my advice. Why do we equate bad behaviour with mental health? It will be a battle that no doubt will be resumed on 31st.

Tonight my lovely friend Sarah is coming for dinner. She is my friend who went to school near me. I know several Sarahs. She is braving my fiery curries today. I have turned to Laos for this evening's event, crab with a fragrant curry paste. There are fewer chillies than I normally use so hopefully won't blow her away.

I'm not sure when I will resurface on here but I suspect I will update you on my adventures as I live the life of leisure if only for a few days. Have a great weekend all of you.

I Heard a Voice.

Between Meetings Culture.

Life bequeathed me a little spare time between my last work meeting and the HPFT AGM today. So I thought a little culture was needed. Fortunately I found that the 13th century church of St Etheldreda's in Old Hatfield was open so I had a wander round. Quite beautiful. It is the burial site of Lord Cecil of historical fame in Tudor times. In fact Princess Elizabeth was at Hatfield House next door when she found out she would become Queen Elizabeth I. Old Hatfield is old. There are some nice pubs so I popped into The Eight Bells for half an hour or so before moving on.

The AGM was the usual fare although I was pleasantly surprised that in these chastened times the financial picture looks much better than expected. I have a lot of time for Keith who is in charge of finances. Surprisingly funny in a dry self deprecating way I always try to have a chat with him when I see him. Sadly not today.

Being late home and late to eat opera night was somewhat delayed. Now sated with rustic Puglian fare of peas with pancetta, shallots and garlic I have settled in with Handel. I did not expect to get to post today but here I am.

I had a couple of difficult days brought on by poor sleep. Sunday wasn't quite a write off as I did entertain Gary and Ali with some lovely rare beef. They brought some nice Rioja. It allayed my edginess for a while but it returned on Monday. How on earth did I manage to function when plagued by all those nightmares?

The last two days have been much better though. Lovely to have a couple of messages from Ros who is in Brittany. Taking next week off I'm going back to that nice Korean restaurant on Monday with Krishna. Then on Thursday I get to dine with my old friend Tory. We were at school together and she is one of the very few people in the world who got to the top of her chosen field without shitting on anyone who got in her way. Kindness is a rare commodity in the echelons that are so far from my reality. Once upon a time I may have aspired to such grandeur as a high flying Cambridge student but we all know what happened then.

Some days it is hard not to feel inadequate when compared to my school and university peers. Am I a failure? I feel like it sometimes. In my cynicism I sometimes despise myself for not always finding my compassion that is so vital. The game has changed since I started thinking I could change the world. I didn't and never will.

Posterity may judge me or forget me. That is for history to decide. Having said that though my many friends forever tell me I'm worthwhile and while I struggle to accept that at times there must be some kernel of truth there.

I will leave you now to your evenings. I have a date with my book.

I Heard a Voice.

Seeing the Break of the Dawn.

What made me wake I do not recall. Probably a bad dream. As I wandered in in search of my vapouriser I witnessed the rising of the sun. Even in my myopia it was a staggering sight. The small living room in my flat faces east so perfect on the rare thank goodness days when I wake to see the dawn. 5.30 am was not what I planned. For the next few hours I slept broken sleep, my mind alert and dreaming of how to write this post. The rest escapes me although I woke up listless and uncertain forcing me to get up.

Not the best start to the day post dawn. What I didn't expect after that start was an overcast and extremely humid day. Sticky and close it is not easy being out. An occasional breeze drifts in through my windows but not enough to take away the oppression.

My first thought this morning was why did I invite people to dinner yet again? In those first waking moments of uncertainty the challenge of having to do seems overwhelming. Several hours later having been out for a pint in The White Horse I'm still not certain of cooking tonight. But I will.

England look doomed in the cricket. Another week looms not too bright but as an underlying niggle. It is the summer, why am I worried? Partly because I'm still uncertain why I was made to disclose in a place not of my choosing. I was given no idea what Friday was all about apart from the cryptic "invite" which was of course an order. In the main I do not like orders.

So what lies in store now? I've done the cleaning I planned. I can watch the cricket even if we are losing. Too early for tea. A glass of Pimm's perhaps? Do I pop over to the BBQ at The Hedgehog? What I really want to do is hide away. All because of broken sleep.

The day will end soon enough. And I will be that much older. I'm not really enjoying this Sunday. Let's put it down to just an off day. See you soon.

I Heard a Voice.

A Decade Approaches.

The summer of 2007 was marred by incessant rain, cold and overwhelming anxiety. It was my last summer in Kent and my desire to enjoy a final few months by the sea was washed away by damp and fear. Yes this time a decade ago I was preparing to uproot my life and come here. Little did I know that I would be in the same job all these years later. Dad commented at the time "what is the career progression in that?" It seemed a most unkind comment at the time. I had pulled off something of a coup fighting off many with far more on paper than me and been appointed to a new venture.

That that venture has been bumpy and tumultuous at times is an understatement. Much has gone well, much less so. Change has been constant and at times unhappiness. As I sit here on this dull July evening in the summer of 2017 I do not know what to make of the world. I'm approaching 50 and where am I? In truth I don't know. Will I move on or is this my lot in life?

Most of yesterday was spent trying to create process and system to what I started ten years ago. Will it work? Maybe but I have my doubts. I was put in a position that I didn't choose yesterday to tell of my life. I would rather do it on my own terms not dictated to me. I'm getting rather tired of telling my story. The books seem like ancient history today. Will I write again? Given how much I have written on here since starting in 2010 there doesn't really seem much point in writing another book.

So as I contemplate what has been and what will be to come I am facing a quiet Saturday night. I have brought forward opera day owing to the ongoing Test match. Handel tonight, Orlando. After this I will retire once again to E M Forster. He writes so beautifully. Might have to buy some more of his books once my awaiting pile has been reduced somewhat.

Whatever you may be up to this weekend, have fun. Time marches on so we had better make the most of it.

I Heard a Voice.

Seoul, Tokyo and London All in a Day.

By and large we were lucky enough to avoid the rain today. A shower as I stepped off the train at King's Cross and waited for Miriam and dad, and the start of something more sinister as I returned to Welwyn Garden City late in the afternoon. Yes it has been a day of something different. As evening is here it is cooler, fresher and teeming with rain. A break from summer.

And a break from work. To mark Miriam's 50th birthday we all met in London. That great British city, a melting pot of people, culture, architecture tinged in places with griminess but beautiful all the same. We ate the food of Korea a country about which I know little. Those of us who grew up in the Cold War recall divided Germany. All these years later Korea is divided still and danger lurks. But what wondrous food. Startlingly spicy, fresh seafood abounds and fresh and pickled vegetables. Almost a first me and will definitely go back.

Then on to culture. Miriam really wanted to see the Hokusai exhibition at The British Museum. In truth I'd never really noticed his name before nor connected it with the iconic, hugely known but in my case unidentified Great Wave. For 90 minutes we marvelled at his extraordinary work jostling at times with too many others but a wondrous exhibition. I was exhausted after.

A gentle trip back, more progress on A Passage to India, then home for tea and relaxation. Ham, egg and chips sufficed for supper and having had my fix of TV food programmes I have turned to some of the many Mozart String Quartets and am conversing with my friends on here.

I'm approaching 50,000 hits on here and closing in on 1000 posts. Will I give this all up one day? Maybe but I might be a little lost. True I know almost nothing of what you may all think of my offerings but people keep coming. I wonder what on earth attracts the French, the Russians and the Americans to my work? So many of you seem to find your way so.

So on this chillier wet night I bid you all goodbye.

I Heard a Voice.

A Mention in Dispatches.

Hello out there, have you enjoyed the beautiful weekend? Summer keeps coming although it was somewhat tricky travelling in such heat and humidity. Yes I have been away for the weekend hence my silence on here.

On Friday I travelled down to Kent for Nikki's wedding. Having some years ago had a frightful experience trying to get to Tom's wedding my mind was playing tricks on me and told me all sorts of mischief. Fortunately my fears all came to nothing, hurrah!

The wedding itself was magnificent. Not at my singing best as I'm not that familiar with Methodist hymns. I was a little worried as I knew almost no one. But they made me supremely welcome and we had a marvellous day.

Amazingly I was mentioned in the bridegroom's speech. True I did support Nikki for a long time during her university time but it does feel as though it was overblown. I heard that actually what was set was very cut down from the original. However memories of tough times and the tears that might ensue cut it back. I feel very honoured to be mentioned.

Barring the testosterone fuelled and exceedingly rude group of young men who took over my part of the train it wasn't a bad journey home. I was back at the flat by 12.45.

No opera so far as England are excelling at Lord's. Poor morning for them but surely a mountain for South Africa to climb from here.

I have a gammon joint to roast for my supper. No guests today but I did promise Bronwen I would take her a ham sandwich later.

I Heard a Voice.

PS Loving A Passage to India which I started on my journeys.

Sultry, Hot and Tiring.

Following a lull summer has returned in another wave of hot, sultry, tiring days. Wonderful to be at the beach with factor 50 on, a bottle of Pimm's and a couple of disposable BBQs with a load of my famous home marinated kebabs. Or in a beer garden lapping up the rays and a nice light summer ale. Heaven.

Instead I was trying to cool down both mentally and physically in a stifling office and having to think on my feet from the moment I walked in. In fact it was before I had even taken off my blazer that news of the unexpected that I have to deal with came in my direction. I think it went okay.

Later I went back to the physio. Having made really great progress I had thought about cancelling my appointment but went as there was some residual discomfort. In fact I had more pain today than yesterday. It was helpful and unlike last week I'm not suffering now.

It was a long tiring day but I was sufficiently upbeat that I felt a Pimm's was needed. True is wasn't the beach but in my shorts and with all the windows and doors open I indulged.

With some leftover steak I pondered what to do. I daren't risk my neck on a Thai curry paste. That might have been a little overwhelming. Steak and chips with a glass of Rioja was rather overdoing it on such a hot day. So instead I made a Lebanese salad of seared steak salad with grapes and sumac. I had to improvise slightly but the result was good. I'm tempted to have a chilled glass of Chablis after my salad but not sure on the etiquette of white wine after beef? Rioja is simply too heavy.

I was undecided what to listen to for opera night. Verdi was rejected. Puccini considered and disregarded. Handel came a close second but I wanted fun and glory so back to Mozart and my original recording of The Magic Flute.

Shortly I will return to The Plume Serpent. Almost finished that. I think E M Forster next. By the time I next post it is likely Nikki will be married. And with luck those lurking anxieties I harbour for that day will have come to nothing. See you soon.

I Heard a Voice.

Recovery Days.

The sun coming out on a nice Sunday afternoon has to aid recovery. It is beautiful out there so I had a short venture to The Waggoners to sit in the sun and watch the world go by. I'm still in some discomfort with the neck and shoulder but have improved sufficiently to stop taking the pain killers. I seem to be on the right track but I think I will still go to my follow up physio appointment on Wednesday.

Work beckons tomorrow but I'm not too worried about it. True I have been tired this weekend but anxiety levels are under control, I have no concerns re the morrow and I will enjoy what is left of the weekend.

My weekend has been somewhat quieter than that of others. Miriam enjoyed her trip away and has been to Ely Cathedral today for an ordination. Dad has been celebrating the 40th anniversary of another ordination so busy all round family wise.

In my quiet I have gone back to Handel for some Sunday afternoon culture. I'm quite a fan really. My old choir master at Selwyn was an expert on Handel opera and would often spend his summers rediscovering almost forgotten works and re-orchestrating them for modern performances. I still regret feeling I let him down by resigning my choral scholarship in my 3rd year as mental illness struck. Mum was furious but a friend of the family later commented it was the best thing I had ever done as it was a decision I made for myself rather than doing what everyone else wanted.

At our curry on Friday some comment was made on my lack of singing these days. In truth I'm not ready to go back to it. Whether I will or not is up for debate but I will need to curb the self beating by acknowledging that over 20 years since I sang regularly I will not be as good as I once was. And that will be a sticking point.

Roast chicken is coming up later with a glass of chilled Albarino. Enjoy the rest of Sunday.

I Heard a Voice.