A Blast from the Arctic.

Goodness me it is cold today. The winter sun is shining but a bitter wind from the north is chilling my world to almost freezing levels. Perhaps a day for a chilly walk. Or perhaps instead a day for staying in with the paper and my opera.

You find me a few days on not fully recovered from this bug although certainly not where I was earlier in the week. I'm eating again although not huge amounts. My kitchen ventures have been quite successful. My postponed dinner with Sarah went ahead on Friday and was I think a success. In a week when I have achieved very little it is good to hang onto some semblance of normality.

My intention is to go back in tomorrow. I'm not thinking too much about it on this quiet Sunday afternoon but I dread to think what might have piled up in my inbox whilst I was away.

The last couple of weeks has seen a certain amount of publicity of suicides on University campuses. The BBC screened a programme on it the week before last. Ros tells me it was well worth a watch although I didn't get round to it. Today The Sunday Times printed a piece on a number of student deaths at Bristol last year. It is easy to feel targeted by such things as I'm in the firing line.

Demands placed on me and my many colleagues who work in student wellbeing across the country can be unrealistic at times. Each death is a tragedy and we always seem to look for someone to blame. Yes I am guilty often of beating myself up mentally but as I have said in past times on here I am not a magician. The three deaths of students known to me in the last decade still feel raw at times. People seem to think that is remarkably few given the need and demand. But it hurts. We all think we will save the world when we come into this business. Those who survive are those who learn quickly that they will never save the world.

Tomorrow will come and I will once again go into the front line. The term is edging towards its completion. There are only three weeks left. I need to think about plans for the holiday. I think I will drive to Kent on the Thursday before Christmas. We intend to do turkey this year, not had that for Christmas since mum died. Miriam is down at dad's this weekend. It will good to visit again.

In the mean time I must MOT my car, take each day as it comes, buy presents and generally prepare. Is Christmas really worth all the effort we put in? I think so. That was never the case when my madness was at its height. Thank goodness for the main part that is in my past not my present.

I Heard a Voice.