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.

The Shimmering Sea.

Could it have gone better? My old friend Helen got married yesterday on a radiant, warm and sunny Bank Holiday Saturday. Friends from near and far, unexpected faces and a reception by the beach made it a magical day. As darkness was coming the sea front was packed, a band played dressed in Hawaiian shirts and people thronged the holiday night. I didn't stay for the hog roast rather coming back early evening to meet up with dad.

So after all that why did I wake so early and obsess about work? I'm on holiday now until 11th September but my memories of a tense, difficult and unpleasant Friday still loom large. The world will go on in my absence and the challenges will keep coming but I'm finding it increasingly difficult to deal with things that cannot be solved as the buck is passed back and forth and no one knows what to do next.

Enough of that though, away from the shimmering sea the sun is once again high in the sky, dad is at church and there is a Food Festival taking place at the cricket club. Returned down here in Kent the thought of coming back seems attractive. But to what and to whom? There are currently no irons in any fires in my world. I glimpsed something of interest in the week but I think the pitfalls outweigh any attraction to it.

For now I must focus on here and now. Recuperate if I can ever sleep beyond 9 am and catch up with friends. I intend to remain here until Tuesday. I expect some disruption on the trains as I know that Charing Cross, Waterloo and London Bridge are all shut this week. But I'm not in any hurry, I will just go with the flow.

And with that I will leave you. I'm meeting friends at the Food Festival at 1 pm, dad will I think tag along later. Roast beef lies in wait this evening and I'm looking forward to going to Borough Market next Saturday, a long awaited return after the terrible attack back in June.

I Heard a Voice.

Waving Goodbye O Humble Grapefruit?

Some time after I was supposed to go I went for my long awaited blood test today. You may recall that back in January I had a very demoralising conversation with a nurse at my surgery about cholesterol and going on a diet. That seems an awfully long time ago now. I certainly lost weight. I have tried to stick to healthier things but recently found myself increasingly slipping into bad habits. Aware of that I kind of put off my blood test until today.

Should there be an unhappy outcome and my mission has failed they will pressurise me into going on statins. I know little about them apart from having to give up grapefruit. Now that would be a real shame as I like a pink grapefruit every now and again. Am I really anxious? In the grand scheme of my battles it is not that great a deal. But a shame all the same.

On this rather humid but dull Wednesday evening near the end of August anxiety and low mood are at bay. Last time I posted I was a bit all over the place. The news that contributed to that state has not gone away. Nor do I think it is likely to. It has already been decided by others and there is nothing I can do about it.

What it has left me with is further doubt and lack of belief. Has all I have achieved in the last ten years really got me nowhere? I have done quite a lot of reflection today. That can be a dangerous thing but I'm on an even keel right now.

I have chosen Handel tonight, his Oratorio Belshazzar. I had a simple supper of Chinese Dan Dan Mian noodles. Never done them before and my improvisation worked well-I do not care to deep fry as suggested in the recipe. With A Passage to India complete I'm about to start Ernest Hemingway's Green Hills of Africa. I'm hoping it is not as brutal and raw as Death in the Afternoon which was the first of his works I struggled through a few years ago.

My holiday begins at 4 pm on Friday. I will catch the train down to see dad. So a few ales in The Butt of Sherry Friday night then my friend Helen's wedding on Saturday. So long since I was down there, dad's party in March was last time. Will I once again have the sense of wanting one day to return?

Will probably post from down there on Sunday.

I Heard a Voice.

Suspicious Indifference.

After the low contemplative point that pervaded my very being when I posted yesterday I slept curiously well. I did get up fairly early to a feeling of suspicion and indifference. Is it possible for those two to co-exist? I remain uneasy and uninspired but not depressed. That I suppose is a good thing.

Resigned to my fate is a sentiment for today. I had hoped for a relaxing fun couple of days as I eek out the last week at work before my break. Domesticity has marked this afternoon, shopping, washing, cleaning. It needed to get done as I had left things too long. Got to keep on top otherwise bad things happen.

Close and overcast I have the windows and French doors open for a little breeze. I am listening to Il Sogno di Scipione and contemplating what to do next. Lethargy seems most attractive but that will not shift the uncertainty of my thought.

I'm trying hard not to do anything rash which was a thought I had last night in my struggles. I try never to do anything rash but it is hard not to when faced with more deception. False dawns have littered the last decade of my life. For some time on here I have talked of change. And it has come but not to any advantage for me. Am I once again at a cross roads where I don't know where to turn? Or did I never move from where I was five years ago?

There is good in my life. Special friends. Passion still exists at times. Some believe I know what I'm doing although on the bad days that is hard to accept. In less than two weeks I will turn 48. Does that make me an elder statesman in my crazy world? Some seem to think so. The relentless march of time is not always favourable. Will I learn the stuckness people talk of at 50? I do hope not.

Shall I snap forth today and return to the norm of a Saturday? I have fine food, good wine, sublime music and a mood that is not plumbing the depths of despair that tainted yesterday. That has to be good.

Until next time I will leave you. Have a good weekend.

I Heard a Voice.

The Mirror of Galadriel.

The Elvish ring bearer Galadriel in The Lord of the Rings had a mirror that was a bowl that she filled with water from a stream. The mirror told what had been, what was, and what was to come. In a moment of madness she almost takes the One Ring from Frodo and transforms into a dark queen. She steps away from temptation and leaves Frodo be as the bearer of the One Ring.

When I teach and when I train I talk about what I call the mirror test. What do you do when in your practise you see your own reflection in that mirror? Can you cope? Do you have the resilience? Will you pay a price? The mirror can show what has been, what is and what is to come.

I see the mirror every day and mainly just take it in my stride. But sometimes something touches me that takes me back into the darkest of my darkness. The things I have never told anyone and never will. It has been a week of the mirror.

My fears of becoming my adversary came close. And that terrible guilt of things I did, things I do and things that I fear I might do. I know I'm flawed and it is in my nature when the mood is at a certain point to destroy myself mentally. I feel so unworthy. Can I use my many experiences always for good? I try. But I do not always succeed.

Did I do some good? I think so. Did I pay a price? Yes. So much so that in my focus on failure I completely forgot to meet a friend for dinner last night. I feel terrible. But my mind has been distant much of this week.

You now find me on a Friday. Work is over with an unexpected end. And I feel uneasy. Not unwell, not anxious, but just not in an equilibrium I feel happy with.

I hope I can let this feeling go. I do not like staring into Galadriel's mirror and being found more flawed and more of a failure than I feel normally. Normally I smile at the reflection back. Let us hope I can smile again soon.

I Heard a Voice.

Retreating Seasons.

Autumn appears once again to have gone back to bed. After my post of yesterday, the sun shone, the rain stayed away and the temperature rose. We are reminded that summer has not wholly given up the ghost but is still fighting to stay alive. What will tomorrow bring?

On this glorious day I spent a pleasant hour or so in the garden of The Plough at Datchworth. Wonderful garden, walled on one side, a sun trap if ever there was one. A pint of Cornish ale made it extra special. And the wasps stayed away.

Today I'm feeling pretty good. Sleep was okay, the dreams sporadic and the waking gentle. Unfortunately the Co op seems to be lacking in copies of the Sunday Times so reading has not featured much. Verdi did though, Aida.

Lunch was a magnificent Thai green papaya salad. I say green but actually I let the papaya ripen too much so not quite as authentic as I had hoped. My chicken will go in to roast at around 4.10 pm. Aim to eat at 6.30 pm.

For now I will stick to my glass of Pimm's, a little TV and contentedness of having a day at home with no demands being placed on me and my mood in a good place. Long may it last.

I Heard a Voice.

The Merest Hint of Change.

The leaves are already beginning to turn brown and fall. The nights are colder and darker. And there is condensation in the mornings. Is autumn really on the way? It would seem hints however slight and mere are perceptibly there.

You find me on a nothing Saturday. I was tired when I woke so quickly abandoned my vague thoughts of London or St Albans. In town I renewed my rail card, ate wonton soup with Yang and pottered. The fridge is now full. Morse was my companion this afternoon interrupted by a call from Beka. She is not at her best and feeling unwell. Let's hope for improvement soon.

And what of tonight? I had a simple supper of pan fried lemon sole with thyme, lemon juice and butter along with new potatoes and watercress. Butter aside I think that is pretty healthy. I have a chilled glass of Muscadet by my side and am thinking of what to read.

Having missed opera night on Wednesday I'm making up for it this evening, Lucio Silla for the next three hours. Another chapter or two of A Passage to India. I'm making very good progress, such a sad but beautiful book.

The recent mood problems have gone back in their box and I'm not feeling anxious. I have things to do at some stage this weekend, paperwork, bills, letters. They always bring on that fear so I will wait until tomorrow.

Is summer really waning? It feels as if it has barely begun aside from the fierce humidity we had in late June early July. Two weeks today I will be at Sandgate Rowing Club celebrating the marriage of my old friend Helen and her spouse to be Roger. I liked him the only time I met him. And I'm delighted for Helen who has had a long time without much luck when it comes to partners. That weekend will also be a long overdue visit to see dad. I think I will stay until the Tuesday after. Then head home. I will have a couple of trips to London and I hope one to Cambridge. A break is long needed.

Tomorrow brings another roast and reading day. Chicken coming up. My friends are still away so I will once again eat alone. But I will share what is leftover. A whole chicken is too much for me. Enjoy the rest of the weekend whatever you may be doing.

I Heard a Voice.

Dodging the Deluge.

What a terrible day. Cold, dark and exceedingly wet it was not a day for country walks, seaside BBQs or sunny pub garden lunches. None of those were on my horizon today as work continued. I was out and about and at times got caught up in that deluge that has been under way since I got up.

Being Wednesday you will know that I would normally be cooking and indulging my vice of opera. But not tonight. I ate at lunch time. Made simple herb and goat's cheese omelette tonight as I'm going out. Not to socialise but to advise.

Over the last few years since I left Cambridge a number of people have approached me for advice on Oxbridge entrance. Getting in is tough. The press may trumpet public school bias but that is not really the case. Even Oxford and Cambridge are accountable now. I'm told the number of administrators at Cambridge has doubled in the last decade. Is that good? Probably endless bureaucracy. What I do know though is they want the best but they can only pick from the pool of young people who apply. If you don't apply you won't get in.

Tonight's task is to advise my friend Choon's daughter about a possible application. How much she knows I have no idea. Neither do I know if her school is good at advising. But I know well the last two Heads of Admissions at Cambridge so hopefully I can be of some help.

This week seems to have dragged. The return of depressed mood has not occurred. A couple of days lacking in motivation true, but that is normal in summer. Am I wishing away this wet and wild summer? It will go so quickly. And then probably the fear. The fear that has pervaded the years since my last buzzy time. Please come again.

Yet I will take a day at a time, do my best in the circumstances I face, then come home. There is comfort in that.

Take care out there in this wet and wild evocation of summer.

I Heard a Voice.

Rising Late and Lazy Days.

The lateness of the hour at which I emerged this morning was indicative of over doing things on Friday. Thinking I was in for a pleasant catching up evening with my friend John it morphed into boisterous loud chaos as I ran headlong into Jo several glasses of wine down and holding a challenging court. I do so like to see Jo but sometimes a quiet evening is called for. Waking yesterday I felt I should have toned it down somewhat. Then today the tiredness took over.

Given how awful last weekend was this has been positively splendid. I didn't really do a lot but to escape from the despair of deep depression and fear that surrounded me that is fine. Aside from my adventures in the kitchen I have achieved nothing. But that is okay.

The cricket has been interesting to say the least. Real pitches giving a fine contest between bat and ball have led to a marvellous series in which runs have been hard to come by. As I write Moeen Ali is carving the ball to all parts. England are in strong position and the end of series is likely tomorrow. Having waited so long for Test Match cricket it has come and gone so quickly.

Summer feels on the wane now. I'm still several weeks away from the storm that will break once term starts. Enjoy the peace for it will not last. The rest of today will be marked by roast pork, just put the potatoes and fennel in to roast too, and delayed opera day. Still undecided what to play but play I will. I have a third of a bottle of Rioja left so I guess I will have a couple of glasses.

I'm hoping dad had a good time away. I know he gets quite anxious at times and has a habit of forgetting things. But a weekend away watching aircraft is very much his thing. In a couple of weeks time I will return to Kent for the first time since March. On a couple of occasions I have thought of visiting but he was busy each time. It will be good to see old friends when I do get there.

See you in the week.

I Heard a Voice.

Close Cloying Atmosphere, Thunder Coming?

As my afternoon at work drew to an end the air enveloped me in a close, cloying, damp embrace, the heat rose and the black clouds threatened thunder. It's been that kind of odd summer day where it changed at various points then gathered for what may be a downpour. Thus far it hasn't happened.

I managed a quick foray into Waterstones as I was on the nearby campus before leaving. After the wonders of A Passage to India I came near to buying Maurice and A Room With a View. The Merchant Ivory film of the latter is a great favourite of Beka's. But do I really need more books now? I braved the wiles of Waitrose and faced hoards of middle class people all crowding round the few tills that were open. Experience tells me Friday afternoon is sometimes like that but so be it.

A young Asian mother was in front of me in the queue valiantly trying to keep hold of two energetic little girls who wanted to run round the store. I admired her fortitude and persistence. One has to admire mums with their kids braving a supermarket on a Friday afternoon.

Home and unloaded I have a glass of Pimm's beside me, the cricket is on and I'm deciding what to cook. Do I do chicken tikka which I promised to share with friends? Or do I do some devilry with more prawns? I was so impressed with those done with gram flour earlier in the week I'm determined to do them again at some point this weekend.

Away from practical indulgent things I'm also reflecting on a mixed up week. What exactly happened to send me into the meltdown of last Saturday? Sometimes I look back on my blog posts and realise things I have forgotten. Looking back this week there more signs. The odd day here and there recorded where I struggled. The sudden blasts of anxiety that are more prevalent now. The signs were there beyond the broken sleep of my week off.

That I had to resort to a medication blow out when the pressure is off is a little concerning. I'm back to normal levels now.

Dad is away this weekend going to Air Shows. I like them too but it is some years since I saw one. I have few plans for the weekend bar my culinary adventures. I was most indulgent shopping succumbing to the lure of Iberico Jamon. Not up to Brindisa level but neither so expensive. Nevertheless with a bottle of Pimm's today's bill was quite large.

I will go the the butcher tomorrow for something to roast. My friends are away so I suspect Sunday roast will be alone. The goat was a triumph even if it took ages to cook. The ensuing curry was enjoyed by both Richard and Alyssa to whom I donated it. Always pleasing.

With that I will leave you to your weekend. Have fun and avoid the thunder if it comes.

I Heard a Voice.

Defying my Whispering Former Friend.

In the musical Guys and Dolls there is a most beautiful song called "My Time of Day". In it the suddenly in love gambler sings of his love of the night when all is quiet, everyone has gone home and he awaits the last "couple of hours before dawn". I have long been enticed by the darkness of night. And in times past I have stayed up to watch the dawn. I think I'm getting too old for all nighters now. But at least then I have a choice. To go to bed or not to.

When the blackness of my madness envelops me dawn seems a long way off. In fact one cannot even conceptualise dawn. All is black, cloying and destroying. Over the past few days that darkness has once again come to consume me up.

Wave upon wave of mental destruction. In times gone by I formed a bond with the ultimate darkness. Suicide was my best friend. He was a character who talked to me and enticed me in with his whispering voice. At its worst before Risperidone he actually talked to me. I called him "my time to die voice".

Since the advent of my miracle medication that voice has disappeared into oblivion. I cannot remember when I last heard that voice. That it took so long to solve was down to the foolish arrogance of those with power. Bernie once told me "you will never find a medication that works for you". Liar!

I long ago broke my bond with that dangerous deceiving friend. But in recent days he has started whispering again. Just a little echo here and there. I have dismissed this vile entity. He is of no use to me anymore.

The barrage of medication took away my ability to think. To work. To feel. And that emptiness was all pervading. Riddled with guilt I have stayed home the last two days. It feels as if everyone has been let down. My silent staring demeanour is so different to me that people do not know how to react. I stare and try hard to fight the empty darkness.

My thoughts came back at just the wrong moment. It stopped me sleeping until a couple of hours before dawn. I think I had already abandoned any thought of the day by then. Eventually I did sleep.

I'm now tired but more alert. The glimpse of the dawn of goodness is beginning to stir. Am I on the right track? I see my ex friend for the fool that he is. What awaits in the next few days who can tell but I will try my hardest to get back into some normality tomorrow.

As for now The Marriage of Figaro plays, I'm sated by a simple lunch of prawns marinated in gram flour, chilli and turmeric on a bed of salad, and I'm hoping the glimpses of dawn get stronger.

I Heard a Voice.