Hearty Food Against the Chill.

The mild atmosphere of recent days has disappeared. In its place a chillier sharper day. The heating clicked on for the first time although only briefly this afternoon. Thankfully my fear re the boiler and heating coming on have proved false.

As far as I can tell last week went well. Short in the sense I only worked four days but long in content. I think I did quite a lot of good. Uplifted after a tough Friday by that feeling and the comment from a very troubled young man that "you so get this" and buoyed by the generosity of another young man deep in depression presenting me with a sketch of a pig in a little black frame I feel contented. If you have been to my flat you will know I like pigs.

Saturday was just Saturday. I have chosen to spend this weekend with some me time. Yes I will go to the pub later but I did not issue any invitations. Had some excellent Singapore noodles with Yang while my watch was being repaired. In the supermarket I found fresh sprats, at last winter indulgence. A hearty venison casserole is in the oven and smelling divine. Just what is needed on this cold day. A bottle of Rioja breathes and The Magic Flute plays. A good way to spend a weekend.

A single rib of beef is in the fridge to be roasted o so rare tomorrow. I do sometimes live so well. Yet I still get downhearted despite all the good in my life. Driven by these sudden crippling stabs of anxiety I teeter on the edge of despair sometimes. Fortunately today is not one of those days.

May you all enjoy the rest of this weekend, wrap up warm and be indulgent. And while I'm at the good cheer a huge well done shout out to Ros on her efforts to appease the inspectors; you deserved that night in the pub.

I Heard a Voice.

Double Date with Palestrina and Handel

On a day in which I seemed to be staring into the fall sun whenever I stepped outside quite a lot went right. I can truly say I did some good today. The remnants of that success are reams of unread e mails, a trail of not completed paperwork and not a little fear each day I wake up and go to work. But I cannot do everything at this busy time of year.

This shortened week has been okay in many ways. I enjoyed my Monday off although when I wandered over to The Hedgehog late in the day it was full of some quite unpleasant people I've never seen before. Why do people have to be so rude and aggressive when they have been drinking? I suspect cocaine may have played a part as well, vile substance that is still swilling around every corner of every town as it has for at the least the last 15 years.

As I sit in my flat those worries are not on me. Work can wait until tomorrow. Those people will probably not be in the pub later. And I'm enjoying my Wednesday evening. My musical dates for the day have been Palestrina in the car and now back at home I have met up with my old friend Handel again.

The only little irritant is the continued errant plumbing in this flat again. It always seems to rear its ugly head and raise my fears when I thought things were okay. Each time I get someone to look at the cistern and boiler I'm always told they are fine. But they are not fine. The problems only ever present when those with the ability to sort them out are not here. These things are sent to try us I suppose.

My thoughts this week have also been with my friends who are struggling. Beka had a fall, Jayne has been unwell and Ros is facing the dreaded Welsh equivalent of Ofsted. For those who are viewing my musings from afar Ofsted are the people who inspect schools in the UK and spread terror amongst even the most skilled and hardest of teachers. Tough times.

I'm often vexed by the idea of how one quantifies a job. I struggle with my mine. There is no clear outcome measure other than that consistently on 5% of the students I support drop out. I don't always change the world but there is an end game unlike in mental health services. I guess four time nominated and twice shortlisted for awards that has to mean something.

The weekend is nearing. I think I will do nothing after my recent engagements. I'm going out to dinner with my friend Hannah tomorrow. She was once one of my students. Been ages since I saw her. I will enjoy that. Then retire to my own devices from Friday until Monday.

I Heard a Voice.

Gently Melting Away.

Hi everyone, you don't often see me on a Monday. But here I am on this chilly day, away from work and feeling splendidly calm. The Marriage of Figaro plays in the background, I have done some cleaning and some reading. And now to speak with you all.

Today is a sharp contract to yesterday. It was a day filled with anxiety from the moment I woke up at 8 am to the moment I stepped in the door at the end of my day in London. A glorious win for my Rams, a lively and exciting experience and atmosphere the gnawing anxiety underpinned everything. But make it we did although leaving at the half was a shame.

Now a day on that anxiety has gently melted away. I slept well and long, didn't have any worries and have been able to relax.

My trip into town was fruitful, found an unexpected sale and bought a couple of things. My fridge is replenished and I have a pork shoulder joint just coming up to room temperature to roast later. Having missed out yesterday it is imperative to keep up tradition.

After shopping I popped out to a very quiet Waggoners for a bowl of soup and a pint. Got talking to a local businessman about mental health and the world. A useful meeting as he is writing a book and found some of my knowledge helpful. He is a cynic who I suspect whole heartedly endorses Brexit and probably voted UKIP until it no long had a purpose but I did enjoy talking to him.

Thoughts of tomorrow remain distant as I enjoy the peace. My mood is around plus one, not bad but could be better. My recent buzz seems no more than a memory today. Will it come again? Will I cope with what is to come? The answer is an almost certain yes. I always do one way or another but sometimes I do need to step back. No need for that in the present.

With that I'm back to Mozart and my gentle afternoon. Hope you all have a gentle week too.

I Heard a Voice.

Trees Swaying and Leaves Swirling.

It's a blustery October day out there. As I gaze out of the French doors that lead to nowhere in my flat I can glimpse the sun sporadically, see the trees bending and swaying and whirlwinds of falling leaves thrust upward on the autumn wind. They say there is another storm coming. But it's very manageable here.

Earlier I ventured out for my normal Saturday. The butcher, a few shops and wonton soup with Yang. I bought Rick Stein's new book The Road to Mexico. I decided to spend a little extra and buy in the book shop to keep it afloat rather than enjoy the kindness of the supermarket where it was considerably cheaper. Where would I be without book shops? I'm actually having a clear out of books which pains me enormously but I'm running out of space.

When I got home I finally managed to do some long overdue domestic tedium. I really ought to do some more but currently I'm enjoying a break with Mozart string preludes and fugues and coming to talk to you all on here.

The week that has just gone by was not as tough as the previous one but was long and busy. Still I march on slowly a step at a time. There is really no chance of pacing myself. Others in my team are dog tired already and we are only at the quarter mark of semester A so a long way to go.

I didn't sleep as well as I'd hoped and had some waking anxiety but it has calmed now. I'm thinking of Jayne today as she is not very well. But she has a lots of chocolate for later which she tells me will be her Saturday evening indulgence.

Mine will be the rest of my prawns. Did a wonderfully fiery Thai curry last night with dry curry paste I made myself and basil leaves. Certainly needed so milk after that.

Nigel is coming for lunch tomorrow before we head to Twickenham. I'm glad I booked Monday off for a little respite. I bumped into my third friend named Sarah yesterday and we have a tentative arrangement for lunch at The White Horse at Burnham Green. That will be nice if it pans out.

For now I bid you farewell until next time. Enjoy the weekend whatever you are doing.

I Heard a Voice.

PS The Provencal squid stew was a triumph along with the cheese and wine night at The Hedgehog.

A Jaundiced Sky.

An eerie yellow light descended on the country on Monday afternoon. The great storm didn't really impact where I live but that sky, almost like it had jaundice unnerved many people and social media awash with photos of a pale yellow or bright orange sun bringing talk of the apocalypse. Well the Four Horsemen didn't appear, the light faded into darkness and life returned to normal.

It was an effect I had seen before with certain winds from the south bringing up desert dust which changed the colour of the daylight and left cars covered in fine orangey sand. That was apparently what happened. Living so far south in Kent brought different atmospherics to even areas inland. The world will now move on with its obsessions with these difficult times.

I have reached the mid point of week 4. For a fleeting few hours when I came home last night I had stopped chasing my tail and caught up with myself. Of course by the time I turned up this morning I was behind again.

In my scale of good I did some today. Working with young people with complex mood disorders can be some of the best things I do. I teach them to live through the buffeting winds of mood swings, slow down the highs and lift the lows. Today we talked of where we want to be and where the world wants us to be, they are not the same thing. Currently I think I'm in plus territory although anxiety remains high. I tick each day off.

Next week will be shorter as I have Monday off. Nigel and I are going to Twickenham on Sunday to watch the Los Angeles Rams play. In the 37 years I have followed them I've never seen them in the flesh. So Sunday should be good.

Back to today though I'm cooking a Provencal squid stew and waiting for Sarah to come round after work to share it with me. La Clemenza di Tito is my accompaniment on this night, not done much Mozart this week.

After the stew I will join Francois and Bronwen for cheese and wine at The Hedgehog, Francois is supplying a fine South African red and I have supplied the cheese. Should be a good night.

See you soon.

I Heard a Voice

A Tale of Two Sarahs.

That night was unusually warm and balmy. Humid and almost tropical it was not a straightforward October evening. All along what was called Pits Passage people had left windows open as they went to bed. It was 1987, I was in my Oxbridge entrance term at school. Yes I well recall this day 30 years ago. By morning southern England had been devastated by a mighty storm the likes of which may only come once in a life time on these curious islands. They say another hurricane will hit tonight but I'm not expecting much here.

Oxford never panned out but Cambridge did. Oh how the years that followed changed my life. Who could have known that the bright but angry youth would within four years have a complete psychotic breakdown and end up in a run down Victorian lunatic asylum? That was the start of the journey that led me to where I am now, jaded mental health professional who questions himself more than ever and only sees the flaws. Where is that confident arrogant man who took on the greatest psychiatric minds and won? Where is that energetic and fanatically driven man who was going to change the world? Is there anything left?

There were plenty of doubts this week. It was hard going. Once again I was confronted by the mirror test and almost found wanting. Still with the remnants of my autumn cold clinging on I came close to "I can't do this anymore".

But survive I did. In no small part this was down to my friends, two of whom I dined and lunched with this week. A tale of two Sarahs, Sussex Sarah on Wednesday and Kiwi Sarah who by coincidence now lives in Sussex yesterday kept me sane. And for that I'm eternally grateful.

Not entirely sure my diet enjoyed the experience but I did. Rare steak and chips with Malbec and pudding at The White Horse on Wednesday then pigeon breast with black pudding followed by medium rare pork tenderloin with a bottle of Malbec and cheese to end at The White Hart. How good is that?

Is order restored as I prepare for week 4? Puccini and Haydn have been with me today. So too Gary and Ali who came for roast chicken. That has to keep me in today not tomorrow.

Can I keep my anxiety at bay? Will my mood slump? I do hope not. But I must focus on what I do well and I did do some things well this week rather than obsess about that bad which whilst rarer did come to bite me in recent days.

Welcome back my audience, figures are buzzing again and enjoy this quiet Sunday.

I Heard a Voice.

Still Our Day?

I returned from Kent on Sunday under leaden skies, steely grey with rain and menace. But it didn't fall. That return journey still featured streaming cold although not as bad as it had been and a sore shoulder. Ahead lay another week. I should have stayed home longer but there was simply too much to do. Yesterday's comment was "you look like shit", today's "you're looking frazzled". We are only two days in and I'm struggling.

Once upon a time I would have been celebrating on this day. For it is World Mental Health Day. I wonder now how healthy it is to identify as being mentally ill? It was an epitaph I gave myself for over a quarter of a century. It was a day I celebrated with my peers to acknowledge we have something to offer the world rather than the burden some see us to be. But what of now? Since moving to the University every year I have felt hugely pressured to do some great event in which we all come together. At the start of my 11th year we have only managed something once. Today it was only mentioned in passing. No one on the network of advisors had anything to say.

Having been accused relatively recently of changing sides and betraying what I wrote about us and them in Charon's Ferry I have more ammunition to deem myself a failure than a success. At the end of day on which I saw no one but couldn't get anywhere near completing what I needed to do the temptation was to eat shit, watch shit and drink shit. Oh how take away ribs with extra chilli might have lulled me into comfort feeling. Or several beers? And watching nothing in particular. But I didn't succumb.

Instead I did some lovely clams that tasted of the sea, had a chilled glass of Italian white wine and realised that to survive I must let go and stop attacking me. Harder to do when in pain and feeling pretty ropy but I will not last long if I give in when all seems lost and I am defeated.

The inbox will be there tomorrow. Despite my doubts I will do some good. And as Peter and Kym remind me it is only a job.

Take care out there wherever you are. There's a long way until the holidays so take it a day at a time and a task at a time.

I Heard a Voice.

PS Incidentally, Charon's Ferry came out in paperback on this day in 2013.

Uninspiringly Grey.

In sharp contrast to yesterday, the grey and uninspiring dull of autumn has pervaded today. It's damp and unpleasant out and I'm struggling to stay warm. My cold carries on and is now accompanied by my neck problem of the summer reappearing. I'm not great with posture which probably doesn't help but when I sleep I sleep. I cannot help waking in pain.

Having sacrificed two days to my cold I did manage to escape gingerly to Kent. It is nice to be away but in truth neither dad nor I are at our best. A mild melancholy sits uneasily on my mind. Am I depressed or just going through an unwell autumn blues?

Sleep is foremost on my mind. I didn't wake until late despite the neck pain. Am I wasting my leisure time on being not good? The furthest I have ventured from dad's flat was to The Bell. As I sat with a glass of ale I reminisced on what had been in that establishment, once my local, now an after thought. Why does time press so fast? None of us had grey hair in those days. Despite my battles with mental illness there were some joyous times there. It is where I met Jayne. And so many others.

I'm saddened to learn that my great friend Mandy will be giving up her butcher shop in the new year. Another casualty of the laziness of modern life. One day good independent butchers will only exist in sepia photos on pub walls. Is this progress? Once we took for granted such special places. Now we miss them. The young will not remember much longer. The old ways are dying.

So on this dull Saturday back where I once was I'm trying to spin a good light on what is rather than what might have been. The cold will pass and I will be well again. And then it is back to the daily chaos of a career long in coming and fast in passing. Take care out there in the gloom.

I Heard a Voice.

Streaming Cold and Weird, Toxic Dreams.

When I posted last night I certainly never dreamed I would be back on here less than 12 hours later. In fact I was expecting to return from the seaside on Saturday. But sometimes the unexpected takes me down a different route.

Every year there is talk of freshers' flu. In the last decade I have avoided it. In fact maybe this year is the same but I woke at 6 am with a streaming cold, sneezing fits and general nastiness. Knowing how full on this time of year can be it seemed wise to stay away and avoid felling the entire department. I don't feel dreadful but I do want to stop anything worse happening so home I am and no doubt people will thank me for that.

I slept most of the morning and emerged late to wrap myself up. As so often happens that sleep was accompanied by some pretty vile viral dreams. My battles with night time chaos are well documented on here. Mainly under control they sometimes come back to haunt me. And always at their weirdest when that evil invention the virus invades me.

This afternoon will be a take it easy sort of time. Got to recover quickly before I get too far behind. Unusually for me I do not today feel guilty for staying home. I'm convinced I did the right thing. Let us hope it is all over very quickly.

The wider world goes on as usual. I have thus far made no comment on the annual lunacy that is the party political conferences that keep us entertained as the leaves fall and the temperature dips. Could the Labour party really have made up what happened yesterday? A coughing fit, a comedic prank and then the set falling apart. Mrs May has been embattled since her surprise election disaster. Surely she cannot go on now after such a comedy of errors at her conference speech?

Only a few months ago I was fearing the lurch to the right that seemed to be sweeping across Europe. Now is the left really rising? Will Mr Corbyn make it as the most unlikely Prime Minister of all time? The coming weeks may decide that although when an election will be I don't know. If he wins when that happens I hope that my belief that it is the politics of fantasy is proved wrong. The moral message is very compelling, but is it real and practical?

My country is now so divided and uncertain. No one knows where we are heading least of all me. Let us hope it is to a more settled and united space than we have now.

With that I return to my duvet. See you when I'm better.

I Heard a Voice.

That was an Industrious Day.

Hello. It is October and I come on here under what I think is a full moon which I can't actually see. Where have you all gone? My audience whoever you are has deserted me. There was a spike on Monday but other than that no one seems to be interested in what I have to say. But say it I will.

We are half way through week 2, still no one sectioned and only manageable drama. That said I have been busy. Buried for a couple of days in juggling six screens on my computer and trying in vain to instigate our new plan for triage. It is too early to say if it is working or not but I am getting very bogged down. That cuts into time with students. Today though was back to back with students. Had they all come I would have seen six which is a lot. The sacrifice was e mails. I barely responded to any.

After that I'm still standing, feeling pretty good but aware that it is a long haul during this first term and inevitably the going will get tougher.

In my silence of recent days I have composed but not posted a lot for on here. Is it really Saturday since my last visit? My kitchen adventures continue to be a barometer for my sanity. Sublime pan fried trout, slow roast lamb, Chettinad chicken, chicken with cashews and chillies and then tonight chicken with Holy basil. It has been fun and come out really well.

Now it is time to rest, read and listen. Opera night began with Peter Grimes, o how marvellous is Britten's evocation of dawn over the sea?

This weekend I will see the sea. I've missed it. A visit to see dad is in the offing so a little escape. I'm not sure I will make in on here until I'm down there. So a postcard from the seaside may come your way then.

I Heard a Voice.