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.