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.