Goodbye to a Troubled Year.

The final day of 2018 did not dawn terribly auspiciously for me. I slept terribly after staying up late following the Rams, it was getting light when I finally made it to sleep. Waking anxious and uneasy memories of a year ago and what insomnia can do to me came flooding back. Coupled with a very sore throat the omens did not look good.

A few hours later I feel okay. Tired yes, croaky too. But okay. It is another gloomy day here, what a contrast from the glorious Christmas Day. Is it really that long since I posted? My posts on here have slowed considerably in recent months and this last post will end a year in which I posted less than any year since 2012.

The lights are on in my flat and Handel's Arminio is playing. Opera to the end. My thoughts are mixed as I write this. Relieved that we all made it through the year. Still pleased with the flat after my enforced move. Happy to have gone to the depths of hell earlier in the year but to have bounced back. On this day last year I was hugely anxious about dad but did not foresee the calamity that was on the horizon.

Reflecting now it has not been a bad thing to be under a psychiatrist again nor much to my surprise to be back in therapy and finding it helpful. Perhaps I have been too harsh on those who ply their trade as therapists. My previous experiences were awful. Now I'm pleased to be doing it.

You may recall that this blog is dedicated to mental health and food. The world has leapt on the mental health bandwagon in the last couple of years. That makes me uneasy at times. Uncertain of who I am much of the time I must remember that my experiences are real and did happen. Sometimes I feel I made it all up and am just lazy. But that belittles what I have achieved.

That other great love of mine that is food and cooking continues. I celebrate good things to pick up and savour. Friday took me to Borough Market by way of getting horribly lost in Shoreditch and accidentally finding The Clove Club. Celebrated a couple of years ago as the UK's finest restaurant, the menu was simple and tatty. A single typed piece of paper looking terribly old fashioned but the  content looked sublime. But at £145 for the tasting menu and £145 for matching wines it will remain only in my dreams.

Sarah is entertaining me tomorrow with a three course lunch. I get to meet her sons and her grandson and mum. I'm taking camembert, cabrales and English fizz. Let us hope I'm not too hungover.

And thus I leave you for 2018. Enjoy yourselves tonight and may I wish you all a very happy New Year.

I Heard a Voice.

Setting of the Sun.

We watched the sun sink over the western horizon at the beach on this beautiful Christmas Day. The sky is still clear and blue, the rain is nowthere to be seen and although a little cold it is pleasant to be out. Our walk to the beach is a preamble to pudding.

The roast turkey, glazed ham, roast potatoes, red cabbage, sprouts, carrots, pigs in blankets, stuffing, bread sauce and cranberry sauce were most triumphant. A successful brother sister partnership. Dad fell asleep before lunch but didn't spill any Prosecco. Slowly does it on the wine, only just starting our second bottle of Rioja. But there's a long way to go.

Christmas pudding and cheese will come forth later. The most important things is we are all healthy, alive and kicking. That seemed a distant prayer this time last year.

As is my wont on this festive day I will keep it short. Merry Christmas to you all and a Happy New Year when we get there.

Goodnight.

I Heard a Voice.

Clear Blue Sky.

The morning before has dawned clear and bright. The sun shines and the sky is clear blue. Traffic abounds outside and people continue their last minute preparations. Certainly plan a walk along the beach later.

We are waiting for Miriam and Nigel to get here. They planned to set off around 9.30. Not heard any updates so hopefully they are making progress. Dad just got back from town with the ham and turkey. As soon as I've finished this post I will sort the ham out for its braise in apple juice. That will take a couple of hours. Glaze it tomorrow.

A year on from last year's Christmas catastrophe we are all in better shape. The evil anxiety pops up still at times. Often when I first wake up and my mind surveys the fear of the day. I tend to get very down on myself when that happens. And I think I'm lazy. But it is the holiday so nothing wrong with being lazy.

Did I ever imagine I would relapse that deep or that long? No not at all. Big wake up call I suppose but I'm now moving forward with a team to support me, a new found belief that it is okay to ask for help and to acknowledge that while in my more manic moments I like everyone else want to save the world, that is foolish and impossible. In the dark days of last winter the kind GP who helped me said "you must allow yourself to be the patient". And she was right.

My many, varied and awesome friends never stopped helping me out and making me break out from the terrible loneliness that depression bequeaths. And for that I'm eternally grateful.

Enjoy this Christmas. I will post again tomorrow when my gluttony needs a rest. See you all then.

I Heard a Voice.

Moonlight Over the Sea.

The moon is not quite full. The shortest day is upon us. It is mild but dull. And I'm down by the seaside. The long sojourn of the first term is over. The university will not reopen until 2nd January and I'm off until the following week. Hurrah for the holidays.

My journey down was tortuous at times. Only 55 minutes to get the the M20 but then roadworks and speed restrictions much of the way. So with a kind heart and some relief I made it to the coast by late lunctime. Since then I've done little but eat and drink. Rare ribeye at Tammy's, a few jars in The Butt of Sherry. Late start then meeting friends.

Back at dad's he is wrapping presents and we have fish pie on the menu. Tomorrow I will do serious food shopping. It's amazing how much one needs to buy with no shops open and the eternal problem of much food and small fridge. But we will get through.

Miriam and Nigel will arrive on Monday. Had a brainwave that said roast pheasant for when they get here. I think that is a good idea. Then indulgence.

Mentally I'm relaxed, anxiety free and mood is in the plus territory where I want it to be. For a while I can cast aside the worries of other people's mental challenges and focus on just us. They can survive a while without me.

Enjoy it while I can. More posts soon but enjoy your weekend. Time to unwind, to indulge and to be kind. For kindness is so precious. We must all remember that.

I Heard a Voice.

Figaro to the End.

A pale December moon is partially obscured by cloud. The rain is falling on and off. It is not cold but it is very dark. Two days before the winter solstice I have finally finished for the holiday. Way back in June when I took my first tentative steps back to work I was filled with terror, had lost all my confidence and was convinced that I was the most useless waste of space on the planet. Such is the world that mood disorders and more specifically deep depression bequeaths us. Anyone who tells you that depression is easy or a myth is a liar. It can devastate lives.

When I read Matt Haig's wonderful book Reasons to Stay Alive a couple of years ago at the suggestion of Ros I was struck by many things. What I took away most was his comment that "adding anxiety to depression is like giving cocaine to an alcoholic". How very true. I've never tried cocaine and have no intention ever to so do but I do like to drink.

The realisation that anxiety has haunted my life for years just as it did mum's has only really come into full focus in the last year.

Now six months on from my return to work anxiety is mainly at bay. The term though hard has mainly gone well and once again I can believe maybe 5% of the great plaudits my work sometimes attracts. The mania of October is gone but I'm good. The conceited arrogance of some of my life both working and not working is at bay but I'm thriving.

I'm off now until 7th January. I'm very mindful of the events of Christmas a year ago but much less fearful. My last night in Hertfordshire has seen me clear up and eat ribs. The sublime genius that is Figaro plays and I survey my desk cluttered as it is with unchecked lottery tickets, empty envelopes, lovely Christmas cards and other detritus from my not very ordered life.

If you have been reading for a while even from a distance please take away that I value all of you just looking and reading as much as I do the many who have supported me in other ways at times during this sometime dark year.

Next time I will post I will be by the sea. See you then.

I Heard a Voice.

Short but Brutal.

On a quiet, dull Sunday afternoon I'm listening to Massenet on the radio and contemplating the last week. It was short from a work perspective but pretty brutal. After our fairly peaceful start to the academic year it is has turned hard and tragic. People have been left reeling and people feel vulnerable. Term ended on Friday but we do not think we are through such turbulent times.

My last day at work is Wednesday. The plan after that is to head to Hythe for a week, sort out the food, undertake the celebration and catch up with friends. Spoke to dad yesterday which was good. Once again he worries about Christmas cards but he can only manage so much.

I'm looking forward to it really. That is a far cry from when I was really depressed. With the odd exception my mood is in plus territory. Long may it stay there.

Tonight's kitchen treat is slow roast shoulder of pork. Great smell wafting in. Initially I intended to have the day on my own but have now invited Richard. He had a fall recently and is somewhat under the weather so thought I'm save him some effort. Never tire of roast pork.

The question now is do I go out for a pint or just stay in the warm and read. Not sure really. Whatever you are doing out there enjoy your Sunday; and the holidays will soon be here.

I Heard a Voice.

Frost, Mist, Sun, a Winter Morning in the Country.

What a way to wake up on a winter morning. Frost on thick grass, pale mist over the fields, crisp cold and glorious morning sunshine. Winter can be so sublime. I was staying at what some might call a country house, others a rural idyll. My trips to Sussex are few and far between these days. Given how hard it is to function in my chemically medication controlled sleep I felt wonderful this morning. And that despite not sleeping much.

Last night I attended the retirement carol service of my old friend Neil Cox. He put up with my petulant adolescent arrogance and nurtured my musical talent. Only he ever made me enjoy the violin. And he let me sing. I think I joined him for twelve choir tours over the years. And for that I'm hugely grateful. The music was sublime. I saw old friends. I drank mediocre wine but that didn't matter. The only sad part is that my friend Ross's daughter was unwell so couldn't sing. Funny how small the world is. Cambridge connections turn to Lancing connections. What wonderful hosts they were and Eliza despite being not at her best was charming, interested and kind. I certainly wasn't like that at 14.

The journey home was fine. I took a lunch at The Waggoners and am now home listening to Radio 3 and cooking a beef ragu. You may recall pasta is not my thing but thought I would give it a go. I don't think I'm eat it today but can freeze. Smells pretty good.

In two weeks exactly I will be tucking into turkey and glazed gammon. Christmas has come fast. After this year I have some relief and some fear. Memories of dad being so ill are never far from my mind. But he is well and all should go to plan.

I'll leave it there for today. Back to work tomorrow. Enjoy the setting sun.

I Heard a Voice.

Passionate Spain.

On this dull, wet afternoon my life has been transported to Spain. My love of southern Spain is well known amongst my friends. I have been to Seville five times. The sheer emotion and passion of this proud people come forth in all. They eat late and they eat well. The sun shines a lot and the greyness of England seems far away. No I'm not heading back to Spain any time soon but on the radio there is a programme dedicated to flamenco. The sounds of guitar, mournful voice and electric dancing never ceases to draw me in.On this grey and tired day it is most welcome.

My long weekend is underway. The car passed the MOT. I picked up supplies. I cooked for Jo and then I overdid it last night. Feel a little bit guilty as had hoped to pop down to King's Cross to see Beth who has a stall in the market this weekend. But waking late and feeling tired I abandoned the plan.

In its stead I wandered in town to buy a few bits. No further on Christmas presents. Then lunch at The White Horse at Burnham Green and home. Motivation is lacking so I will award myself a day off. Okay so I did do some washing and clearing up but that's about it.

The trip to Sussex is planned. I have to contend with three dogs where I'm staying which makes me a little nervous. But I will be okay.

Tomorrow I will cook roast beef for friends. Should I open the good wine? Is it a special enough occasion? Maybe. Keeping going in the kitchen is as much as I can manage.

Whatever you are up to, relax and have fun. Back soon.

I Heard a Voice.

A Friendly Conversation.

Traffic wardens are some of the most reviled people in this country. Who would want that job? I'm sure they are spat at and abused by some, shouted at by others. I'm not entirely sure I've ever had a conversation with one. Until today. No I didn't get in trouble. But my plan today before my afternoon meeting was to try to check out how the new parking restrictions look in town. Purely by chance I wandered down to look at the sign said traffic warden was there. So I asked her. And much to my surprise she was not only helpful but very friendly. It is not helpful that yet more parking is restricted but at least I won't get caught out.

The difficult time in my life continues. Not really my life, more my working life. And struggle as I do I do need to keep trying to separate the two. Something of relief then that I'm now off for a few days. Tomorrow car MOT and service. A quiet weekend, well if you exclude Jo coming to dinner tomorrow, followed by an overnight trip to Sussex on Monday.

For what may be the last time I will attend the vast chapel of Lancing College for a carol service. Neil my old music teacher is retiring. So with great reverence I will try to pay homage to a man who had big influence on my life.

Closer to home I saw the therapy chap today. Continues to be quite helpful and surprising. I'd never been a fan owing to terrible past experiences. Perhaps I'm in a more meaningful place to change now.

Back at home opera night has shifted to Thursday. I was out with Sarah last night to celebrate her birthday. Despite nightmares with buses when I eventually got there I had a good time. And we had a lovely waitress who really looked after us. Tonight it is Cosi fan Tutte and making a start on Howards End. Had hoped to begin last week but it didn't happen.

Enjoy the coming weekend. And remember the holiday will soon be upon. Take care and good night.

I Heard a Voice.

A Dreary and Tired Saturday.

On a wet and dreary Saturday afternoon you find me at home listening to Beethoven on the radio. I'm very tired today after a tough week and not much sleep. After weeks of serenely progressing through my working life the wheels didn't quite fall off this week but it was hard going. A week ago the day dawned well. The silly kitchen catastrophe of which I wrote then triggered off a chain reaction. Sunday I felt low and anxious. Monday brought uncertainty. Wednesday sadness and self beating. And Friday was just a get through the day day.

The lack of sleep and the bad dreams of last night have left me weary but still going. I did some shopping both eating, Christmas and birthday for Sarah. Tonight's kitchen offering is rabbit with prunes in red wine. Looking forward to that. Then tomorrow roast pheasant.

I bought some nice wine yesterday and am slowly ramping up my liver for Christmas. Never do much crazy anymore when drinking now. Like to be more controlled. It is good to indulge though in the festive period.

As I write the wider world of the UK is most unsettled. What will be the outcome of the brexit vote in parliament? I vividly recall that summer day a couple of years ago when I walked down to vote uncertain either way as no one knew what either outcome would bring. Now we are just as uncertain. That the government will lose the vote seems a given. But then what? A general election will take us no further forward. These times are so uncertain.

More soon.

I Heard a Voice.

Slipping Backwards.

I guess it had to happen at some point. I knew I was in trouble when I couldn't get out of bed at what for me is a more sensible time. Turning over I slept another hour so was late getting started. Feeling on the back foot after yesterday's accident in the kitchen my anxiety is up and my mood is down. Not really depressed but after recent positive mood rating I suppose I had to slip back at some point. Let us hope it is only for a day.

Once again I've chosen Handel as my guide for the day. Some opera always goes down well. The paper is mainly read so I need to find something else to occupy my listless mind. Do I go for a drive in the country? Maybe after opera.

At some point I need to put the pork shoulder joint in to slow roast. But I can't summon up any energy to cook. All I managed at lunch time was to heat up a bowl of tinned soup. Not very adventurous is it?

Tomorrow I return to work. A full week lies ahead then a shorter one after that. There are only three weeks to go in this term. Finding it hard to motivate myself even for that short space of time. My diary lays unopened along with my e mail. That can wait.

If like me you are struggling with such thoughts and fears I wish you well. I usually come through such days. Just doesn't feel like it at the time.

I Heard a Voice.

Weekend of Broken Glass, Pungent Sauce and Clearing Up.

My plan for this weekend was simple, keep it simple. Having indulged both in London and at dad's a quiet time of domesticity and good cooking seemed appropriate. Tedious but need to keep up with these things. Yesterday went smoothly with much of the cleaning done and fine Chinese food, willow chicken with chilli and black beans. Today not quite according to plan.

Knocking over a new and unopened bottle of Worcester sauce set off a chain reaction. Said bottle hit an empty wine glass on the top. Both exploding showering the kitchen and me in glass and pungent dark sauce. Having spent a considerable time cleaning up after that the last thing I wanted to do was more cleaning. But I did and the bathroom is now clean. The smell of sauce lingers though, God knows when that will dissipate. But worse could have happened, I was not injured and can now go on with the afternoon.

Handel's Israel in Egypt is playing. Despite the gloom outside I feel comparatively upbeat. My mood is fine and I can look forward to lamb keftes with Aleppo pepper for supper.

In the main I have avoided mental health this week. I did touch on it a little with my friend Katie over lunch on Wednesday. We met working for CMHT and it was good to catch up. Sadly many we knew then are still so stuck in their illness wracked world of cheap coffee, unhealthy fried food and smoking roll ups. I have a lot to be thankful having got out of that world.

It could be argued that for the last few months I have been back in that world. True I have a consultant once again. A therapist who has put to shame some of those I met in a past life. And of course I take my medication. But today I am well.

I doubt I will make it away again this side of Christmas. That is excepting the carol service at Lancing on the 10th. There will be many there I know. Two former directors of my musical career retiring in the same year. Life marches on.

Enjoy the weekend out there. Soon the holiday will come and we will indulge. After that the battle that is the advent of 2019. When the sun emerges in spring we look for new life. Take care in the cold and darkness.

I Heard a Voice.

Under Leaden Skies, a Trip to the Seaside.

Under leaden grey skies I caught the train down to the coast. Wet and gloomy that adage I frequently pose to students that places seem wonderful when the sun is shining but on a wet Thursday in November it is much bleaker. It is only Tuesday but down here by the sea it is pretty bleak.

Finding me here on a Tuesday is unusual. But having had to work on Saturday I had a day and a half owing and four days left over from last year so a week off was a most enticing. Thus for a couple of days only I find myself back home with those I know so well.

It has been an interesting few days. On Friday despite my fear I attended the Old Lancing 1988 reunion drinks in town. Aside from getting horribly lost and rather unnerved recognising almost no one as I walked in it was a pretty good night. God we have aged! Although I seem to have got off more lightly than most.

Working on Saturday I did a pretty good job convincing people I knew all about dyslexia, autism and physical disability and carried it off with aplomb. In fact I know next to nothing. Yesterday I headed for Borough Market. Beautiful lunch in Brindisa followed by a moderately restrained but still expensive trip round the market. I dined on corn fed poussin with organic new potatoes and white Burgundy. I delivered cheese to my friends and then settled down to watch the Rams and Chief slug it out on Monday night. In a game for the ages the Rams emerged victorious and go marching on. Will watch the whole game when I get home.

The next couple of days mean catching up with friends and unwinding. It is good to have a break. Mood remains good, not too over the top and still avoiding pissing people off.

Enjoy the week if you can, don't work too hard and remember the holidays are nearby. My week will be one of leisure. See you at the weekend.

I Heard a Voice.

Rising Crescent in a Hazy Sky.

A shade after 4.30 this afternoon I stepped outside my office block to use my puffer for a few minutes. As the sun set in the west a hazy twilight sky revealed a rising crescent moon. Can we really be that close to winter that the moon is out at that time in the afternoon? I wondered at the beauty of nature for those brief few minutes.

The pace of action has reached frenetic now. Had everyone turned up today who I was expecting I would have seen eight students. Each day this week I've had to deal with emergency drop ins. And each day seeming brings another overdose. The world fears that word but for me it is an every day topic of conversations. Most days suicide is mentioned several times. Such is the nature of my work and life.

Yet still I sail serenely on. There have been glimpses of the fear but only fleetingly. I'm working hard but mainly triumphing. I could not have imagined that back in those tentative days when with great pessimism and terror I returned to work after such a long break.

By the end of this week we will have completed three quarters of the term. I'm off next week so the end is in sight. I'll take that.

Back in my flat Verdi is tonight's composer. His opera Oberto has accompanied a busier than normal Wednesday evening. I did the washing, cooked a ferociously hot Thai squid dry curry, tidied up and sorted things out until it was time get on with my book.

I'm nearing the end of Goodbye to Berlin. Whilst I admire it in parts it has been a little disappointing. Next I will go back to E M Forster with Howard's End next on my list. With luck next time it is opera night I will be ready to start that.

The audience for my musings seems rather erratic at the moment. Every other day or two there is an alleged surge of readers in Italy but I'm suspicious as it's always the same and no one says anything. My failures in cyberland do not really run to what might really be going on. So as my figures remain buoyant I hope it is not my delusion that people can and do want to read what I have to offer. Well at least I know my dad and the lovely Ros keep me going by humouring my ego. Until next time.

I Heard a Voice.

A Century on, a War to End All Wars?

Gold and russet hues glitter and shimmer in the autumn sunlight. What a glorious day! A couple of hours from now the sun will have sunk in the west and once again my country will be back in the darkness of coming winter.

Today we mark a century since the end of what some call the Great War, some World War I and others the War to End All Wars. I stood alone in my flat for the two minute silence at 11.00 am along with the rest of my country to remember the glorious dead. I watched the Cenotaph Service and the laying of wreaths. In these divided times former enemies are united and we remember what was.

Tragically it was not the War to End All Wars. Still we fight in an uncertain chaotic world. Nearly 30 years on from the end of the Cold War the great nations of the world are re-arming. For what? The dread of war and catastrophe that hung over my childhood seems to be returning. Can we learn from today? We must.

On a much smaller and less significant note I'm doing well. Awesome on Friday, more reticent yesterday and today the mood is elevated but not over the top. Given what a hard week it was I'm doing great. It was a week in which we creaked, we bent but we did not yield. Most of those we feared for are safe now. Well at least they were last Friday. Just one more to worry about.

Opera day has taken me from Mozart to Handel. The roast beef was sublime, roast potatoes on a par with my friend Jo's and the wine very good. The paper is read and I'm settled for a quiet afternoon.Tonight I get to see the Rams play again. No longer unbeaten they are still a team to be feared.

This coming week promises to be long as I have to work at an open day on Saturday. But then I'm off for a week and heading to the seaside to see dad. Before then though there is the little matter of 30th anniversary drinks with my cohort from Lancing. Dreading it in some way but experience has told me that what was then may no longer be now. We all grow up and in middle age I hope we have lost the foolish foibles of youth.

Enjoy your Sunday.

I Heard a Voice.

Destination Foodie!

Hello out there on this bonfire night. Remember remember the 5th of November, gunpowder, treason and plot. So says a saying in England that may or may not date back to 1605. If you are going to fireworks tonight wrap up warm and stay safe. I'm staying home.

This day marks two other events, the day I first stepped into a classroom in 1999 with my friend Rachel and taught for the first time. If I recall it wasn't a disaster but we weren't great. And according to Facebook this is the day in 2011 when I posted a glorious photo of my book launch. Sadly three people who were there are now dead. My mum. I saw her smile that day and realised I had made peace with her. My friend Sue who died o so young and full of life. And my friend Jackie who fought mental illness much of her life and succumbed to lung cancer after years smoking to help her deal with the monster that can be mental illness.

You find me this bonfire night at home, tired after a long and difficult day, smiling, not quite flying but thriving, listening to Mozart and sipping a glass of Medoc. More than halfway through term I'm doing great. So I awarded myself an extra opera night and decided to come on here and speak. Things are going well!

The weekend took me to see Miriam. On Saturday morning we went to Bury St Edmunds and had a lovely day out. And what a place for foodies, artisan shops, real butchers, a wonderful market and a buzzing vibe. I came home having consumed some fine cheese and splashed out on fine pates and some quince jelly.

So as to keep the food thing going I indulged in a rare ribeye, chips, minted petit pois, griddled tomatoes, watercress and mustard with the aforementioned Medoc. What a wonderful way to spend a Monday night.

With that I leave you. Maybe see you again at the weekend.

I Heard a Voice.

Dangerous Traits.

An angry man. A drunken man. A gambling man. As I walked over to The Hedgehog on Sunday evening to watch the Rams game I was confronted by a man who was getting increasingly agitated. He told me his Mrs had "let him down". What that meant I hate to think. He'd been paid and he was ploughing more and more money into the fruit machine. And he was drinking Stella, the drink of drunken toxic men so often that we call it "wife beater". What a dangerous combination.

As I watched the Rams roll to another hard fought victory this man went on and on. When he finally stormed out he had put £230 in and come out with nothing. Addiction if that is a legitimate term can be a cruel thing. A man I once knew who had started smoking cannabis at 7 and was on heroin at 11 once told me he doesn't use the word addict because then it is seen as an illness and not therefore his responsibility. "I can choose to use drugs or I can choose not to use drugs".

After the events of my life recently that was just another experience in the world that passes for mine. After my fury of Friday I wrestled things for a day, cooked fine food, switched upwards again in mood but I'm still in control.

Even going back to work, and it has been exceptionally busy, I'm still doing well. And I'm not manic. Today is pay day so I indulged myself at the Turkish barbers then had a set menu at Cote with a nice glass of wine.

Now it is opera night and Handel is playing. I have a glass of Rioja. The heating is on-that wasn't working at the weekend-and I feel cosy. Progress continues on Goodbye to Berlin and I've started a book called Prisoners of Geography an exploration of the crazy geopolitical world we live in. So on this night my life is under control, I feel good, and I'm marching on. Tomorrow back to therapy...I have many stories to tell.

I Heard a Voice.

Mildly Furious...That's Putting it Mildly.

How difficult can it be to fit a simple smart meter at my flat? Originally scheduled for May the man who turned up on the day told me he couldn't complete the job as he was missing a part. Having heard nothing for six weeks about finishing the job I called and arranged a follow up in July. They cancelled that. Re-arranged again for today I discovered that some nameless person, I genuinely do not know who, locked the door on the meter cupboard sometime between when I arranged my neighbour to unlock it last night and when I got home from work for today's appointment. The only neighbour with a key is extremely unwell so that didn't help. The upshot is I will need to arrange a fourth appointment.

The agent told me it was a standard key but I certainly don't have anything that opens it. Despite the title I am extremely fucking annoyed. Foolish really as there is nothing I can do to change anything. Perhaps fate is conspiring against me.

That's enough ranting. The week has been mixed. I stayed home Tuesday as well. The return on Wednesday witnessed markedly elevated mood. Yesterday irritation. Today, well you know about today.

When I'm in a mood like this I get very little done. And that annoys me further. I must take heart though that it is the weekend, my travels took me back to old places and I saw a glorious heron, and it is another week down in a long term. Half way now.

I have booked some time off in November. Be good to slow down for a while. Also booked a couple of days in December as I have to go to a very special carol service that marks the end of my old music teacher Neil Cox's career at Lancing. I owe him a lot, regret some of the foolish things I did in the past, and thank him for the tremendous support and opportunity he has given me in the last 35 years.

With luck next time I post I will be happier. Now I will carry on my fuming.

I Heard a Voice.

Braking Hard.

Monday afternoon. The sun is still shining. The leaves continue to fall gently. And the mild air belies an unusual autumn. A couple of days after my last post on here I'm home, desolate and empty. As I feared I needed to hit the brakes. And I hit them pretty hard.

Back in the day when I found the miracle that is Risperidone it sent me into orbit for months. It was fabulous. Everyone loved it and I didn't do anything stupid or act erratically. Finding the Holy Grail is what every psychiatric patient yearns for. And I found it.

Recent months have taught me that the picture is no longer as simple as a wonder drug. More a careful balancing act between circumstance, expectation and the sheer will to fight through the hard times. And fought I have even when there seemed no hope of victory.

I can probably date the shift back to the start of term. As had happened in the early days my mood and energy rose, my confidence surged and I was back to my brilliant best. Whilst I did not believe I could do it anymore for a long time recent events have proved otherwise. The trouble is I rose too much.

Hitting the brakes was not what I wanted on Saturday. I was slightly relieved my original plan for Saturday didn't work out as I'm glad I didn't wake up regretting my actions. We all have to wake up and it was to desolation, emptiness and longing for what had been.

I did manage to cook a fine lunch, enjoy Alyssa's company and sit in the sun in the garden of the pub. Underneath though the emptiness was disconcerting. So late yesterday afternoon I took the plunge and cancelled the beginning of the week.

The night that followed an empty mind was anything but empty. Just when I wanted to rest, recharge and rebuild the dreams came back. Mum was prominent in several including a particularly hideous nightmare. Almost as it was when I smoked. Why does the magic kill the day and devastate the night?

Getting up late I have done little. Some pasta with a tomato, chilli, caper and mint sauce sufficed for lunch. My plan for dinner has been cancelled. Yet as the sun keeps heading west I'm listening to Britten's A Ceremony of Carols, wishing Jess a happy 40th birthday and realising it is okay to take time out. The brakes needed to be hit and I will bounce back soon.

I Heard a Voice.

Do I Want Calm?

On a sunny October afternoon I'm home doing things around the flat, listening to Classic FM and trying to take stock of the last week or so. How shall I put this? I've been flying on and off for over a week. O how I have longed for this sensation to come back. Sharp, funny, cutting, arrogant. Not necessarily words I culture in my life. But I have had to fight hard in recent days to stop myself letting rip and break down the frail strands of relationships when I'm like this.

Views differ on what I should do. When three bipolar friends tell me to go to doctor and or increase my medication I should take heed. However, as my teacher friend Sarah said last night "it is so nice to see you happy". Have I been that unhappy that long? Yes is the simple answer.

I don't want to calm down. I want to ride the wave. But when faced with the urge to drive very fast and blare out The Dead Kennedys on my way home I must think hard. I need to slow down but I don't want to.

Had an interesting chat with Lena yesterday to try to explain what it is like. She seemed fascinated, confused but supportive. In the end I came home a little early. I will have to take things day to day in the coming weeks.

The sense of virtue that finally getting things done in the flat feels warm but a waste of energy. Needs to be done whether flying or despairing. My kitchen awaits the next extravaganza of self indulgence. Last night it was Poulet au Parmentier topped with grated gruyere cheese, stunning. For lunch a little bangbang chicken to be followed tonight by rare sirloin steak. Might just have to open the rather nice bottle of Chianti I bought yesterday. The spending goes on.

Tomorrow I will roast a brace of partridge wrapped in smoked streaky bacon along with roast potatoes, carrots, cabbage and sprouts for a decadent Sunday lunch with Alyssa. Have to choose some wine for that.

Whether I blaze a trail or crash and burn in the coming weeks it is nice to glimpse that the highs however limited compared to some can come back. And that seemed a long way off back in the depths of winter.

See you all soon.

I Heard a Voice.

Shades of Icarus?

Can any story of soaring arrogance and epic failure be more apt than the legend of Icarus? You may recall that Icarus made wings from wax and feathers so he could fly but his father warned him not to fly too close to the sun. He ignored the advice, the wax melted and he plunged to his death in the Aegean Sea.

I can recall times in my battle with mood when I have in my conceit and vanity flown too high and too close. And I paid a terrible price. Not sure if my old friend Zoe still reads this but if she still does I certainly do not equate my experience with the manic rage and genius that is a full on bipolar episode. A much lesser degree but I have been equally burned. The price of burning it is the depths of despair.

If you have followed my writings for the last few years you will know I certainly have knowledge of the depths of despair to which a mind buffeted by significant mood issues can sink. I was finished back in the depths of that terrible winter. I never believed I would see the heights of glory of yesteryear. Mine were I know now vainglorious. My therapist commented a while ago about the richness of my life.

As you read my musings today you can rest assured I'm fighting hard to stay grounded and not fly too close to the sun. But I'm coming home feeling triumphant some days, assured of my brilliance as a practitioner but still aware enough to keep checking with people.

My texts are more triumphant, funny and terse. People are smiling and laughing around me. At times I'm laughing at the foolishness of the world. I'm being indulgent, the very expensive bottle of Cote du Rhone I bought by accident is wonderful but I know I can't afford to do that often. Yet I don't care.

The excellent Nikki who lost so much to mania just text to say should I see the doctor. Jayne pretty much said the same. I have the weapons to fight back but I do not have the will to put the brakes on just yet.

For one night only I will bask in Mozart, indulge in good wine, defy the world and carry on. Then tonight the Risperidone goes up.

I Heard a Voice.

On a More Even Keel.

The rain has been falling steadily down all day. I woke late, a little unsettled and tired. There had been two waking moments in the night. Ahead of me lay roast chicken, indoors time and coming to terms with the events of the last few days.

It has been a glorious wave to ride. The arrogance and dismissive mood has gone. I no longer fear annoying people. And I haven't had to increase my medication. I did not come crashing down as I feared I might. Just rode out the storm and the ship that is my life is now calm and on an even keel.

Despite my fear I did not cancel dinner with Sarah. The venison medallions were o so rare, the blackberry and port sauce was bang on, the dessert decadent and such lovely Rioja. So pleased I didn't cancel. Another reminder that my friends are so special in my life.

On the phone to Beka yesterday she told me I was speaking very fast. A classic sign. Now I'm not speaking at all. I'm listening to Handel's Rinaldo with a chilled glass of wine and basking in the laziness of a quiet wet Sunday, sated with wonderful roast chicken and putting aside thoughts of tomorrow.

Without looking at the diary I know it will be busy. But I think now I will not need to explain to Lena what might have been this week had the wave stayed high and my life riding it out. We can save that for another day.

Not sure when next sermon will be. But be assured I will be back, maybe in the week, maybe at the weekend. Until that return take care.

I Heard a Voice.

Impatient Irritability.

I knew it was coming. After a week of plaudits that I often dismiss my mood went through the roof last night. In pomp and arrogance I surveyed the surrounding detritus of cocaine fuelled idiots and looked on in contempt. It is great to be awesome.

Great for me that is. I'm very much hoping to have not offended anyone. With luck that is a sign I'm slowing down. In its stead comes impatience, irritability and elevation that made me dismiss the crowds in town, deny what I need to do in the flat and generally look down on what Bernie Rosen used to call the nitty gritty of life. I can't be bothered with that today.

That I feel a little hungover is leading to some confusion. One of those terrible hungry hangovers. I thought I was going to be sick as I tried to sate the beast with a fry up in Cafe Trio. Not my best idea.

The plan for tonight is to cook for Sarah. Not entirely sure she will appreciate my mental state so toying with the idea of cancelling. In truth though it is probably what I need to have structure, company and fun. I just hope I'm not rude to her.

Whilst I love the elevated mood I must be wary. If I go over the top I not only alienate people I also burn out. Having been struggling for so long it is good to be in open mental country. How long will it last? Will the plaudits of my work serenaded on the radio and in the paper on World Mental Health Day prove too much? I hope not.

Being back to where I once was does have its bonuses. I have more energy, I have passion and I have purpose. But at what price.

I will keep you posted in coming days. Have a fabulous Saturday.

I Heard a Voice.

Seasonal Sustenance.

On a wet dreary October afternoon can there be anything better than to turn to the food of the season? I'm not always precious about seasonal food, don't really have access to all the materials I need, I'm not a fan of root vegetable options and the autumn would be very dull without some healthy greenery. But autumn is a time for game and blackberries. So on my trip to see Gareth the butcher this morning I was delighted to find loin of venison on offer. With some blackberries in the fridge it was crying out for rare venison medallions with a blackberry and port sauce.

So I'm under way in the kitchen, the cold is shut out and the rain falls harmlessly outside and I'm enjoying my Saturday. And I have rare roast leg of lamb to look forward to tomorrow.

The week was pretty chaotic, the ante climbed much higher on Thursday but my vast experience came through to shine in a way it hasn't for too long. As fear stalked the halls of our building and all around felt under pressure I came home feeling awesome. Not overly manic, not dismissive and arrogant but finally back to what I once did so well.

We survived and although I was tired when I woke today it is so good to be back. The break is well earned, there is a long way to go but my fear that built the closer we got to term and the anxiety has retreated to the shadows.

I have to see my consultant on Wednesday. Part of me thinks I no longer need him. But the shift is still in its infancy so better to stay attached to the support I've had and try and bed in the change rather than go off on my own. That time will come.

Not sure yet whether to watch a film or listen to opera tonight, decisions to make. Both would be good but I'm not always good at making decisions. And with that I bid you all good night. See you soon.

I Heard a Voice.

Amongst Friends?

For many years I detested the mental health system and despised and ranted at those who ran it. I was an angry young man. But who wouldn't be after being locked up despite committing no crime? To be told over and over again this is what you must do then blamed when it didn't work? I was also a very ill young man.

My time in the mental health system was torrid to say the least. That I didn't always do myself any favours by raging against a system that I couldn't change is clear to me now with the wisdom of age. Yet the system was one based on a kind of bizarre hierarchy of need where a diagnosis right or wrong determined someone's path not his or her need. The saddest thing about my story is that they got it very wrong. And I still bear the scars of that to this day.

When I was writing A Pillar of Impotence between 2002 and 2005 I wanted vengeance and I wanted the truth about an utterly flawed system to come out. Did I achieve that? I guess you have to ask those who have read it.

By the time I wrote Charon's Ferry as a follow up my life was very different. Having sworn I would never work for the enemy I had done just that mainly because they gave me a job when no one else would. I was living in a different place and thriving in the main. Respected...so I'm told...my name is widely known in mental health circles around here. I never felt I would return to the bleak darkness that enveloped me earlier this year. But it did.

Through all that I was stunned by the response of my friends. And I have friends in many places. For the last few weeks I have been walking into the building in town that houses local mental health services as a patient.

Today I walked in with my working hat on. And I was greeted warmly by my colleagues and peers. And in fact my friends. I have come a long way from my hate and fear. Today reminded me that however little I think of myself on the days when my mind betrays me others do not though. I have made friends with the enemy and they are no longer my enemy.

So reflecting on opera night with Handel's Arminio I raise a toast to all my friends wherever they are.

I Heard a Voice.

Calm Waters, Glittering Sunshine.

Hello out there, how are things? In my part of the world it is a beautiful day, mild and sunny, no wind, leaves turning and the serenity of a calm day pervades my life. It is all going well. Given how hard the last few months and if I'm honest last few years have been at times it is good to find calm waters.

Two weeks into the new academic year my anxiety free, mainly, experience continues. There have been no catastrophes. A lot of people have come forward but in the main they seem in better shape than in recent years. Of course a storm will brew up sooner or later but I'm enjoying a new found freedom.

My self belief is finally returning. I'm not getting carried away just taking each day as it comes, doing the best I can in the circumstances I face and coming home to be me again. That has been a long time coming.

The autumnal love affair with the NFL is keeping me going too. And the Rams march on, unbeaten after four games and surviving an epic shootout with the Vikings on Thursday night. Whilst I say survive they never really looked like being beaten. People are talking Super Bowl but there is a long way to go. Injuries have hit them and there will be more but for now I'm delighted.

Domestic things have taken up part of today. So hard to motivate myself to do all that tedious stuff but feels okay when under way. To the kitchen I go later, stir fried Hunan beef with red and green chillies and black beans. Tomorrow I will slow roast some belly pork. So long since I did that. Will cook on a bed of fennel and flavour with thyme. Maybe also roast some apple slices to go with it.

Now that I've been paid I look forward to the week. Always good to shop but will stay restrained. Except in the kitchen of course.

May your weekend be relaxing and the coming week productive. Autumn will roll ever on and winter will come. For now though happy days.

I Heard a Voice.

A Gentle Sunday.

The heavy rain of this morning has dissipated. The sun is out. Although it is not very warm it has turned out a much better day than I feared.

I hosted lunch today for friends. Roast gammon, roast potatoes, vegetables and a touch of mustard. They brought a nice bottle of South African Cabernet Sauvignon. Not something I would buy normally but it was beautiful.

Much to my surprise a week on from my optimistic last post I remain in a good place. There was a significant wobble on Wednesday, getting given seven different answers when seeking advice on a role for which I've been given virtually no training was not at all helpful. But we resolved the issue and the serenity of recent anxiety free days was restored.

I sometimes wonder whether it is possible to be anxious about getting anxious? I guess a lot of it is like that. That this state of serenity will be threatened in the coming weeks is a given but I must make hay while I can. The feared mania has not materialised. I don't think I've pissed anyone off yet. And I think I gave some sound advice to those who have sought it.

Following an afternoon of Mozart and Beethoven, tonight my thoughts turn once again to the NFL. I get to see my Rams team play twice this week, against the Chargers tonight and the Vikings on Thursday. The NFL can bring some sort of equilibrium to my troubled mind as mainly I cast aside worry when watching. And when the season is on with five games televised each week it is easy to immerse myself there. When it stops in February the darkness and cold can get to me. Most years I re-emerge in the spring. Of course I couldn't have predicted what happened this past year though.

Enjoy the rest of Sunday and for those who go back to work on Monday have a good week.

I Heard a Voice.

Like a Thief in the Night

What a beautiful autumn day. The sun is shining, there is a little wispy cloud, barely a breath of wind and all is calm in my world. Does that sounds strange given what has happened in the last few months? I am delighted to report that I have gone an entire week without anxiety. The calm I once knew and was respected for has returned. It was not just the last few months but in all probability the last three years that my life has been out of control.

That summer of 2015 when expectation changed took my calm and peacefulness away like a thief in the night. Night time because anxiety has brought back my darkness. On Wednesday with the talking guy we talked about the richness of my life. It is indeed rich in experience dark though some of it has been. But it occurred to me that what made me so good at what I do has come back. That calming communication with my people in a way that few without lived experience can have.

In the past when all is chaos in the world and I have had to get young people detained under the Mental Health Act it was always noted how calm I was. And that calm has vanished in recent years.

Now as I face the start of another term tomorrow I'm not fretting, dreading and fearing what will be. I do not know what will be but I do not fear it. How long that lasts I do not know. But I will savour it whilst I can. And go back to what I once did so well. There is a little nagging doubt at the back on my mind that said mind will go into overdrive and I will alienate people. That always used to happen at the start of the academic year. Let us pray and hope for the peace and stability to stay.

Back in my flat I have been entertaining. Alyssa came round for rare roast rib of beer. It was sublime. It hard to beat a sunny day with Handel and Offenbach, rare beef, roast potatoes in beef dripping, vegetables, horseradish, French cheese and biscuits all washed down with Chianti and fine company.

I have enjoyed the last week or so. And in the darkness of that black winter I never thought joy would ever come back to my life. But it has. I hope you too enjoy your Sunday.

I Heard a Voice.

Affirmation in Tears.

The sun is setting in a sky streaked with broken clouds. I'm listening to Il Trittieo and trying to take in what has been three relatively anxiety free days. When I last spoke to you I had plans for London and Cambridge as well as belated birthday dinner with Sarah.

A week on from my last post all I set out to achieve has been achieved. Sarah delighted as she always does. Tory was as gentle and kind, understanding and tolerant as she has been for all of the 32 years we've known each other. And the big reunion was precisely that. We partied long into the night and put the class of 1998 with whom we shared the dinner to shame.

I came away feeling not too inadequate although it is easy to be overawed by the achievements of my peers. Hearing that people I played rugby with 30 years ago are already retired can be a sobering thought. But we weren't sober by any stretch of the imagination.

Waking late with a knock from the duty porter I felt okay although it might have been nice if we could have met for lunch. So I lunched on my own at The Eagle, great pub, terrible roast beef. But I came home content and stable.

At the point beyond half way in my first week back nothing has gone wrong. On the contrary things have gone right. Yesterday afternoon I met a young woman who is a GB international in her sport yet is ravaged by the nightmare of anxiety and the eternal battle with perfectionism. I did what I do, talked, told her the truth, acknowledged where she was at and helped her understand the demons. She cried almost with joy that not only did I give her time and made adjustments for her studies but also understood.

As that young woman's tears flowed I stared in the mirror and saw my life too. I'm certainly no international sportsman but I sang to the highest levels and paid a price for that. I still fight my demons but came away with the certain belief that I had changed a little part of someone's life. And that feels good.

The fear will come but for now it is not there. I have done some good and can acknowledge that. A few months ago that seemed impossible.

I Heard a Voice.

The Land is Green and Lush Once More.

A mere few weeks ago the earth was parched, the grass looked dead, the stifling humidity sapped our energy and the skies were clear. Taking a drive into the country yesterday afternoon our green and pleasant land has returned. The fields are green and lush, the air is more manageable and the skies flecked with cloud.

Today was clear and pleasantly warm. I took the bus to St Albans for a wander. My friend Jazz had recommended I try Bar Meze for some Greek food. With the help of my phone I found it easily. Greeted by an affable smiling figure who might like Adonis have stepped out of a Greek legend I spent a delightful hour or so eating grilled sardines and lounza ham. A couple of chilled beers and it provided me with the perfect start to a holiday afternoon.

The centre of the city was littered with young men and women dressed in gowns and mortar boards ready for graduation. Three years ago I was amongst them. I recall that day in a mixed way. I was terrified something would go wrong. On a deeper level it was around that time that my anxiety became more severe and all encompassing. My job was changing and with hardly any training I was expected to do another role as well as my own. As I feared it proved to be a disaster and even now that change hammers my fear and self belief.

I'm trying very hard to stop worrying about next week. The last couple of days have been relatively relaxed but my sleep was poor last night. What will be will be.

The rest of my week off is getting a little busy. Food features a lot. Tomorrow I will see Yang at The Fu Hao. Friday takes me to London initially to see Krishna and then my school friend Tory. Then Cambridge.

Lots to look forward to but for now I listen to Cosi fan Tutte, I read and I sip Chianti. Not a bad way to spend an evening. Not sure when I will next come to talk to you. Until then have fun and stay safe.

I Heard a Voice.

September at the Seaside.

What a lovely day down here in Kent! September may be here but the sun is shining, people are out and about and the final weekend of the holiday is drawing to a close. Thus far I haven't made it to the beach sadly. We had the intention of doing so today but closed chocolate shops, non setting cheesecake and a tired and after a while grumpy baby William had other ideas.

My lovely friend Katherine came down to visit with her 18 month old son today. Dad couldn't stay long as he had bowls but we have had a marvelous afternoon even if we didn't make it to the beach. So lovely to see them both. Life can be tough for all of us but seeing old friends always brightens the days.

I'm just over half way in my holiday. Been down at dad's since Friday. Not a bad journey down and so nice to see people. My time off has been good but still can't shake the anxiety of what is to come. Preparing for difficult times when anxious is always a recipe for disaster. Since my return to work I have expected every meeting to go wrong and expose my perceived inability to do what I once was so good at.

The accolades do still come, glowing testimony from those I have helped. Although since being back I have felt old, out of touch and an amateur all who know me know that that is me deceiving me. A cruel traits of mental illness to make us feel utterly worthless. Letting go is so hard.

As I stand on the cusp of year 12 in Hertfordshire my mind is racing. I had confidence on that day, exactly eleven years ago this day since I moved. How do I rebuild that? Do I want to rebuild that? So many unanswered questions.

They can wait though until a week has passed. Between now and then I have dinner with Sarah, an evening with my school friend Tory and then the big dinner back at Selwyn. Will I be overwhelmed by the success of my peers? Or will I accept that we are all flawed and those dreams of three decades ago were but youthful fantasy?

When Will I Settle Down?

Why is it that five days into my long awaited holiday I'm still dreaming of and worrying about students and work? It is always the students that I struggle to help who haunt my dreams. Rarely the ones who find me helpful. Given how shaky things have been at times I'm wondering when I will finally come to rest and my active mind settled down.

Normally the first week is okay. Then the anxiety creeps in. It is so foolish. Must learn to relax better than I have been. I have no need to fret, the holiday is the holiday. Miriam is coming tomorrow. I'm getting the train to Kent on Friday. Katherine is coming down for lunch on Sunday. Not until Monday do I return home. Then my thoughts will turn to my friend Tory who I will meet Friday week and then the big dinner in Cambridge.

Having decided that life is too short to be tying my own bow ties I bought a fake one. Trying it out for size I suspect it won't be as simple as I'd hoped. Will need a mirror to see where the hook is.

So good things are coming. And it's opera night. I never tire of listening to Figaro and on this rather humid night I have chilled glass of Sauvignon Blanc. Unusually for me I cooked pasta for supper, just a simple sauce of shallot, garlic and tomatoes with a touch of parsley and some pancetta. Worked quite well.

What will tomorrow bring? I turn 49, that step closer to the big 50. Sounds most strange that I have survived this long. I'm perhaps not always the healthiest of people but I eat well, probably have more fruit and vegetables than most non vegetarians and I have certainly cut the drinking in recent years. And stopped smoking.

On my dark days I fear I have achieved nothing. Today is a neutral day on that front. Let's hope soon I get back to celebrating what has been, dismissing what might have been and come now to the day that is today. A day with Mozart, wine and a break. That can't be bad.

I Heard a Voice.

Unnecessary Cruelty.

The rains of autumn have certainly arrived today even as August still holds on. Steady rain and a chill in the air mark this Sunday here in Hertfordshire. After a difficult night and waking up anxious about work I have managed to do some things around the flat, lift my mood, put the anxiety to one side and at least try to enjoy this holiday weekend.

Yesterday I attended my friend James's stag do in London. I only stayed a few hours. But it go me thinking. Why would you dress up your closest friend in full body suit, a gimp mask and a Donald Trump hat to humiliate him just as he is getting ready for what should be the best day of his life? Is it because he in turn had done the same when others got married? That tit for tat makes me feel uneasy.

English boarding schools in the 1970s and 1980s could be pretty brutal places. Horrific initiations, institutionalised bullying and a culture that what was done to me must be done to you were so prevalent. Like all other boys I just wanted to fit in. And thus we self perpetuated the puerile stupidity of entitlement and privilege.

On my dark days my mind sometimes drifts back to those days. Yes I survived and in many ways boarding suited me but I'm ashamed of who I was in those days. And it all comes flooding back in a wave of self loathing and fraudulence that depression bequeaths me. I'm sure James will remember yesterday in fond ways but it doesn't seem a very kind thing to do to one's friends.

I will not dwell on what was if I can help it. What is done is done. For now I must try to acknowledge that I'm on holiday, the world hasn't fallen apart, I have my opera, my books and my cooking. For today that is Cosi fan Tutte, slow roast lamb shank with home made mint sauce and a venture into Goodbye to Berlin a little later. I plan to meet Alyssa at The Waggoners for a pint after the Mozart.

For those of you out do enjoy the holiday weekend despite the rain.

I Heard a Voice.

Is My Life a Delusion?

A chilled glass of Albarino lies by my side, Maria Callas is singing Verdi, the sun is fading behind the clouds and I am here once again to talk to the unknown people who humour me by reading my thoughts. By my reckoning this will be my 1103rd post on here. Sometimes I have thoughts that I must stop. After all what does it achieve? I feel good for a short while. Then the guilt and self loathing start. Am I being unprofessional? Self indulgent? Arrogant? Miserable? Negative? All manner of self berating. In truth some say they find my writing helpful, uplifting and inspirational.

Hearing such comments when taken in the context of my psychiatric career is wonderful but dread inducing. Having been effectively told my entire life had been a delusion at the age of 23 and a narcissist that is a pretty destructive thing to live with. Yet the praise and thanks that my thoughts and works sometimes elicit still come sometimes. And I dismiss it. Can't get too carried away. My friend Jayne whose friendship and love I care deeply about walked out of my life for four years because I had become so self absorbed that I had forgotten to care for and love her back.

The question that engulfs me sometimes is do I give too much? And do I take too much? Can one do both? Is it okay to do both? How do I find a balance? I don't know.

Maybe you can tell it was a therapy day? That is true and it was interesting. But after I had to go to work and the slow and seems deliberate destruction of what I have done and how I've done it goes on. How do I deal with that also being brought into question? Can a process replace and instinct? The reason I'm good at what I do is I have very sharp instincts. And those instincts were learned the hard way.

So on another opera night as summer wanes it is becoming clearer that I must leave this course. But I don't know how. Some might pray. Some might go into therapy. And some might just keel over and be resigned their fate. I feel resigned to my fate tonight.

All is not lost though. Francois and Bronwen are hosting a cheese and wine night in The Hedgehog. Sarah is coming. Sadly Jo cancelled as her mum is unwell. I must strive to enjoy it.

Tomorrow takes me to London to meet a school friend I've not seen in a decade. Much to catch up on and fine food. Let it be a good day.

I Heard a Voice.

PS Ros thinking of you and Milly for results tomorrow!

All Change?

You find me on a quiet Sunday afternoon thinking about what to write today. Not sure what if anything I want to say. Not felt much like blogging recently but as it is Sunday, my day to write to you, here I go.

Changing habits created over a life time is very hard. There are several parts to my life. Up until we moved house on my fifth birthday. The wet days in the west country. The glories and agonises of Cambridge. Sussex Downs and angry teenage years. The pinnacle of my so called career back in Cambridge. And then the black hole that was mental illness. And it is that black hole that hangs over me like a shadow.

The coming of Risperidone in 2001 really changed things for me but that was sadly not the end of the story. Otherwise the travails of the last few months may never have happened. But what is clear is that mental illness is woven into my identity.

Last week it was suggested that I need to take it out of my identity. This is not the first time I've heard that. My cousin keeps telling me to let go of the past. But who am I without my past? If I take mental illness away where is my credibility in terms of work? My confidence is shot to pieces so if we take away what little is left that I have history that has brought me to that which I am today?

Slowly it is dawning on me that radical change may be needed but as I posed recently the questions from what and to what? Part of me would love to condemn mental illness and my contribution to that world to the past. One of my friends who has bipolar simply tries to pretend it never happened. I bear too many scars for that.

And what of my contribution to that world? Have I done some good? I have anecdotal evidence that I have. I also see my spectacular failures. I know I cannot save the world. But I'm still trying to prove I'm better that that which was done to me. I have said many times that I wouldn't have wanted to treat me. And inevitably I will meet similar people in my field.

If I turn my back on the world of mental health there would be huge void to fill. But what with? The answers elude me on this quiet Sunday afternoon. Perhaps I should stick to the simple pleasures, classical music, slow roast pork, a drive in the country, a glass of ale or a fine wine. Can't go too wrong with those.

See you all next time.

I Heard a Voice.

Leaves and Rain Fall, is this the End?

Gentle rain falls in my part of the world. It is mild but overcast, still and stifling. I first noticed the leaves had started falling a couple of weeks ago. Believe it or not I have been back at work for nine weeks. Where has summer gone? In a little over two weeks I turn 49. Seems just a short while since I turned 40. On that day my lovely friend Jayne came back into my life after a four year hiatus triggered by my mania. Oh that that mania would return! I would certainly cope better with my fears.

Sadly on this Sunday afternoon you once again find me worrying about work. Not that there is too much on. It is just that working with people with what is sometimes referred to as "communication difficulties" is hard enough anyway. But when they barely speak English I don't rate my chances. Once again I battle expectation. People keep telling me I put it on myself. But I simply don't know what I can do tomorrow.

There is some time though. Opera is put on hold today because of the cricket and West Ham being on TV. I can't see much more play in the Test and West Ham are losing. So doesn't look promising.

Tonight I am going out to a friend's for dinner. My intention was to cook roast pork today but the invitation came just before I went to see Gareth the butcher. Instead I will have Ann's roast belly pork. She does cook so well.

Wish me well for tomorrow as I must wish myself well. Be kind to yourself is Ros's famous mantra, not a bad plan. Just so hard to do sometimes. In a brief few weeks the sun will have gone, the leaves will be cascading down and the whirlwind that is term time will be upon us.

I Heard a Voice.

To and From Italy.

The fierce heat has finally broken. Softened by gentle breezes and less intense sun the world outside is a little easier to manage than in recent weeks. You find me as usual on opera night. Relaxing to Don Giovanni, a couple of books which I'm dipping in and out of and the prospect of a cold beer later.

The week has been shorter than normal as I had Monday off. We had a wonderful trip to market. Aside from glorious food and shopping we met a delightful young woman who hails from Naples who was working as a waitress in Brindisa. She told us how kind and polite we were to take the time to talk to her. The implication is that many customers are not like that. I asked about post Brexit hostility and the arrogance and racism that is displayed by some in my country. It was sad that this young woman who was a nurse was uncertain of what will happen to her in this time of great change.

How hard is it to be polite and kind to people like her? Sarah tells me regularly of the arrogance and hostility of some customers where she works. I only really see glimpses where I work where some think their needs come above those of other people. It makes me sad that people can be like that. I don't respond too well to that vibe.

Returning to work yesterday my anxiety remains there, the count down is ever closer and the summer slow down still holds. Today I spent some time with a young man I have known for several years. After many battles he finally got his first. And by curious coincidence he is going to Italy just as the young woman came to England. To work. He too is uncertain on Brexit and how long it will be possible for him to stay.

That fateful decision the electorate made two years ago. The ripples will continue for many years. I am no more in the know of what will happen now than when I battled my own lack of knowledge and reluctantly cast my ballot on a thundery evening in June 2016.

Whatever the outcome I wish both these young people well. The young are the future so we must accept decisions affect the many not just our own selfish ego, need and indulgence. No man is an island as a famous man whose name I forget 30 years later once wrote.

As for me and my little world, uncertainty remains on many levels. But at least today and on Monday through those short conversations I can believe I did some good this week. See you soon.

I Heard a Voice.

This Little Piggy Went to Market.

On another glorious summer's day I'm home with all the windows and doors open, an ice cold glass of water and the wonderful sounds of Beethoven's String Trios to accompany me. This eternal summer goes on and on and we are making hay so to speak. In a literal sense too as all the grass has turned to the colour of straw and the parched earth worries gardeners but not others. I well recall mum obsessing about the heat and lack of rain and the eternal battle to water the garden.

For me it has been a long weekend. Having tentatively planned to go down to Arundel to see Kiwi Sarah but heard nothing back from her I thought I might as well take the time and relax. Well not all relaxing, finally caught up on the domestic tedium of cleaning and washing. That has rather been neglected since I went back to work. So must be done.

Yet to not worry about getting up, to not be in such a rush and a chance to slow down have been good. Work was mixed. I ploughed my way through a 120 page report which appears to suggest I have done no good at all in my career in Hertfordshire. Curiously enough one of the participants in the "research" contacted me and said the complete opposite yet somehow that didn't make it into the final draft. I fear once again political egoism is coming into play.

Despite that I do feel quite relaxed. I have a nice free range chicken to roast, friends are coming round and a crisp New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc is chilling in the fridge. Part of that comes from the fact that I booked tomorrow off as well. And I'm going on an adventure.

Intending to catch the 11.52 train Sussex Sarah and I are headed to Borough Market. What fun! Nowhere near as crowded on a Monday I will sacrifice a few closed stalls for the calm and leisure that rarely happens at a weekend. I don't know if Sarah has ever been but I intend to take her to Brindisa for lunch and then I wander in the market. I suspect she will buy a lot of cheese. I too am under instructions to buy cheese for Ali. She will insist on paying me for it but I will certainly decline that offer as it was her birthday on Friday and I owe her a little present.

Do enjoy the rest of the day. I now plan to immerse myself on Beethoven and get under way with the roast chicken.

I Heard a Voice.

Held Back by the Past?

I've been doing quite a lot of reviewing this week. Much spent trawling through a long academic paper that whilst having some interesting points does not actually reflect trying to hold the dam that is being overwhelmed by a tide of mental health issues that is the 21st century university. I'm not sure what to make of it really other than wanting to scream come and do my job for a day.

The problem with a lot of research is it is designed to fit a pre-conceived idea of what is going on. If one takes a stance that looks at some not others you will get a skewed answer. I have spent a lot of time over the years reaching out to academics and schools trying my best to help. Yet the only people who responded to the call for participants were overwhelmingly people I hadn't come across despite those efforts.

Last year I offered and delivered a two hour interactive workshop to all academic schools. I delivered to most, some failed to respond. The anecdotal evidence was that they were a success. Short of forcing all staff to come to training I cannot realistically reach out to everyone. My message over my time there has been consistently ring me up if you are stuck.

All this has left me questioning once again what I'm doing, my purpose and just what do people expect of me? Later in the day I looked back in reverse on my blog posts since it all went wrong at Christmas. I realise just how far I have come. But from what? And to what?

I'm working hard to right myself with some help. Everyone is making the right noises but still I feel quite adrift at times. Do I still have a place there? And if so what is it?

Time is ticking away. In less than six weeks it all kicks off again. Lost in the heat and intensity and general ebullience from the World Cup is that soon it will all disappear into the dust replaced by cold, damp and intensity of a different kind. Such is my autumn and the coming of the new year.

I cannot dwell on that though. I have my opera, my Rioja and my books on a Wednesday night. The cricket has finally started up again and I have a long weekend booked. Only a day to go.

I Heard a Voice.

Celestial Washout.

The rains have well and truly come to my world. After weeks of bright sunshine, parched land, intense heat and energy sapping humidity it all finally broke on Friday evening and the heavens opened. It feels equally glorious to finally cool down as it had to experience a rare sunny summer.

Sadly it had to coincide with a big celestial event of a blood moon and Mars close to the earth. The result was we saw nothing at all. Such a shame. The pictures I have seen looked spectacular. But it wasn't to be.

I have had a visitor for the weekend. My old friend Marie hasn't been up for over a year. So it was nice to take Friday off and meet her off the train. A wander to The Waggoners when she got here then Dan Dan Mian noodles for supper. A weekend ahead was unfortunately marred her feeling unwell. We did make it St Albans as we had hoped but she ate little, drank less and after slept poorly. No doubt she will recover soon but was somewhat concerned should she have passed it on to me. I do hope not.

On this dank wet Sunday afternoon she has now gone home. I cooked roast beef for lunch, very good. And now listening to Handel's Orlando after a swift pint in The Sun at Lemsford. I have no doubt the hours will slip by quickly.

All too soon the alarm will go and I will start the next week of my journey. My intention is to go up to full time hours from tomorrow. I think I'm doing okay there although the bumps in the road, the little sensitivities do not bode well for the autumn. I must keep working and trying to get to where I need to be.

I do have holiday to use up before then so some long weekends will be in the offing. Just not sure when. Enjoy the rest of Sunday and don't get too wet out there. Until next time.

I Heard a Voice.

Ferocious Heat, Still Air and All Round Summer.

According to my phone it is 33 degrees out, there is barely a breath of wind and humidity remains high. For all of us who fear and moan of our cold wet winters summer is fighting back. It has been like this for weeks. More than 40 years have passed since we had anything like this. It ages me I suppose but most of my colleagues have never witnessed anything like this.

You find me on a hot Thursday evening dressed in shorts and tee shirt and with all the doors and windows open. My flat which is usually a cool place to reside is like furnace. I have a chilled glass of Muscadet, the radio on and a long weekend in the offing. My friend Marie is coming to visit so I decided to take tomorrow off. Start as I mean to go on I think hence the wine.

Things are progressing and I aim to do my full time hours from next week. Yet still the turbulence is catching me out at times and making life uneasy. I'm taking on board what I'm learning but trying to undo the fierce expectation I place of myself is hard to do. I've been doing this too long.

My history leaves me suspicious of people's intentions. Too often I've heard one thing and experienced another. Too many times I have been lulled into belief then savaged by the false promises and deceptions. The world can be a fearful place. But onward I go.

I do not know my destination for I know that recovery is not that but a journey of many twists and turns. To find peace is an aim that sometimes feels out of reach. Much to my surprise after a difficult start to Sunday I achieved a brief few moments of peace and enjoyment and realised that for all my doubt I can triumph. And the BBQ was a triumph.

Since then in response to the intense heat I have turned to South East Asian salads for sustenance. They certainly know how to combat heat with the most radiant of salads. Why are we so poor at cold food here? Refreshing and healthy it gives me a sense of wellbeing that so often I lack.

If you're not feeling too overwhelmed enjoy this glorious summer and remember living in moments of goodness can far outweigh the darkness if we just let it happen.

I Heard a Voice.

Low Level Annoyance.

On Thursday evening a strange message appeared on my TV saying that some channels would no longer be shown on Virgin Media. Given how fond I am of watching food programmes as well as nature programmes I assume it would just be moved somewhere else on the spectrum of programme slots and continue as normal. But as I discovered after midnight they simply won't be shown anymore.

Given how much I spend on their service it will come as no surprise that I'm slightly more than irritated by this turn of events. Doing some digging this morning it would appear Virgin had a spat with the BBC which is involved in UKTV programming over on demand services. The term used was "dinosaur" for those not using on demand services. Well I may be a dinosaur but I still would like what I pay for.

The upshot of this will now be that aside from keeping up with the news and during the NFL season I will likely be watching very little TV from now on. Maybe that is a good thing but it still leaves me annoyed and a little downhearted.

In its stead I'm listening to a prom on Radio 3 of organ music from the Royal Albert Hall. I'm a little way through reading the paper and my thoughts are turning to lunch. After that I must prepare for this afternoon's BBQ. When I lived in Kent at least once every summer we had a beach BBQ. Used to love preparing for those. Now as I contemplate doing that again I wonder why it is that I feel on edge. Has my anxiety got to such ridiculous levels that I want to run away from that too? Still that doubt lies lurking in my mind. I'm trying to temper my expectation of myself. But it is hard.

If you have been reading today you may have seen there was a rare comment on my last post. The writer correctly points out that King Canute did not really fail just proved himself right by showing he couldn't hold back the waves to his subjects. The intention of my comment was that I cannot hold back the sea any more than King Canute could. The mention of resources in the comment is interesting. The response of some might be that my department if more heavily resourced than ever before. But we still can't keep up with demand.

My fears for September still lurk just as my daily anxiety lurks. I'm managing okay at the moment. Yes there are things that stick with my and grate but I'm managing. But I know the storm will come soon. By my reckoning we must be around seven weeks until that happens. So seven weeks to build back some resilience and self esteem. Is that too tall an order for me? I hope not for I must be there ready or not at the end of those weeks.

I Heard a Voice.

Heart Sinking Times.

By about 2 pm today I felt pretty dejected, demoralised and had a heart sinking feeling. Suddenly called to a meeting I knew nothing about I listened to 90 minutes of rehashing things that we have tried to implement and failed over the last decade. If they didn't work then why would they work now? In truth with mental health being on everyone's minds, the political pressure and the tidal wave of young people identifying themselves as mentally ill I felt pretty bleak for the future.

As an added complication I waded my way through a 27 page report that for the most part slated all the efforts I have made to educate people during that decade. Who wouldn't have a heart sinking feeling after that?

However as I waded ever onward the report finally mentioned what I have done over the years and was all positive. That righted the balance a little. Still I'm uneasy though. Feeling targeted by a barrage of negative publicity over support for university students I worry about what the autumn will bring.

Words and headlines can be cheap. I suspect the government will force us to talk to parents but what will that do? It doesn't solve the problem of ultra needy, ultra anxiety provoking, substance using, risk taking, self harm and tragically the suicides that do occur. Every bereaved family asks for more; and rightly so. But I am not a magician. Secondary services are overwhelmed. There are no beds. And still we cling to a recovery "model".

In all honesty the low death rate of people I have worked with has partly been down to that work but chance played a large part in that. And still each day I must go in and face the ever coming inflow of an overwhelming sea. I am not King Canute. And even if I were, he failed just as I do regularly.

So to my safety net, my old friends Mozart and Figaro, the ever progress on Waugh, a chilled glass of Chardonnay and an excellent supper of Vietnamese griddled marinated prawns with a salad of grapefruit, carrot, cucumber and chill dressed with coriander, basil and crushed peanuts and a little lime juice. A triumph!

See you all soon.

I Heard a Voice.

Martha's Harbour.

Way back in 1989 my school friend Robin introduced me to the band All About Eve. Completely out my comfort zone I was mesmerised by the haunting vocals and sense of the mysterious. A couple of years later as my life came crashing down around me I became tranfixed by the song Martha's Harbour. So much of my life I have taken for granted that the sea was just a short walk away. The seagulls irritated me as did the visitors. It was just so normal then. In my time living in Folkestone I so wanted to see the dawn rise over the harbour but had always been too tired or too lazy to make it happen.

Now in 2018 I have been away from the sea for eleven years. But this weekend I'm back and take in its full wonders as this glorious summer continues. Today I took the bus over and met my friend Marie. A long time since we saw each other. We went for lunch in a perfectly acceptable tapas restaurant. Long and leisurely, with plenty of Spanish beer, we had fun. Then to the harbour. And how glorious was that?

So much money has been pumped into Folkestone in recent years. It was a delight to see. And we sat overlooking the water with cold beer and enjoyed the sun. Shimmering on the water, it was the colour of freshly landed sardines, that greeny blue sheen that is only evident when the sardine is ultra fresh.

Memories of the sea sometimes haunt me and sometimes entice me. I lived a lot by the sea and a lot of it was bad. But I know now that surely one day I will return to the sea and live out what is left of my life in a land I once knew well but on the dark days is a dim and distant memory.

Dad has bought a goose breast for me to cook tonight. God knows what I'm going to do with it. So to google I go for inspiration. Have fun in the sun.

I Heard a Voice.

Cafe Culture on Sea.

Hello! Have you missed me? It has been a whole week since I came on here and only done two posts since July rolled in. The glorious sunshine in the main continues. The heat of recent weeks is not quite so prominent but will I understand build in the coming days.

You find me today by the seaside. An escape often feels good. I caught the train after work yesterday and will spend time here with dad until Monday. I'm doing okay. Work was quiet but manageable. I have so much leave to use up I have elected to book a series of long weekends. So here I am in the garden of England in summer sun and relative serenity.

There is a bit of an ulterior motive for being here. In 45 minutes I must catch up bus to Hawkinge to go to a funeral. My friend Helen is burying her mum today. My intention is to go up a little earlier to go to mum's memorial. A while since I was there.

Whilst down though I intend to catch up with whoever is around. Quaint relatively well heeled towns like Hythe have a high concentration of cafes. Not quite like the continent, they are more coffee and food places than beer places as one would find across Europe. Pleasant none the less though. So this morning took me Le Salamandre to meet my old Cambridge singing friend Juliet, then on to The Nutmeg for brunch with Beth. What a lovely morning.

It is a shame that England's unexpected World Cup adventure has come to an end. But it was fun while it lasted. In a way I'm slightly relieved as I would have been here for the final rather than back in The Hedgehog. My intention is to head back home again on Monday.

For all of you out there working take heart from the fact that it is Friday, the weekend beckons and the world for a short while is yours to play with.

I Heard a Voice.

Puccini Over Football, Tosca Over Brazil.

According to what the TV tells me Brazil is playing in a World Cup Semi Final as I write. But I'm not watching. Instead I am seeking sanctuary in Puccini and listening to Tosca. I've been buffeted by some emotional and professional waves this week which hasn't been nice.

Realising after an outburst of internal fury I needed to say something. It also made me realise I'm still quite vulnerable. Better yes, sorted no. Life can remain a battle that needs to be fought rather than as I'm wont to do to fight myself. After two and half days of shit come the end of play today I was in a better place.

Two things happened really. I spoke to the person who pissed me off which I don't normally do. And secondly I had the most kind and supporting e mail from one of my graduating students. Writing in carefully chosen words what struck me was when he said (sic) "thanks to you I'm walking out of here with a degree rather than not walking out at all". Moved and stunned I wanted to shun away from such powerful words but realised I could and should use them in my current battle. I do do some good which I had lost sight of in recent months.

During the week I reflected on the last decade. Saw e mails from the early days. Glanced at Charon's Ferry. And looked back on posts from earlier this year. What a buffeting I have had in that time. I must convince myself and accept that I'm not just being self indulgent and lazy but that my history of mental ill health is real and recognised.

On many an occasion like this difficult week I would have been ordering ribs, going to restaurants and eating crap. But I didn't. I cooked all week. And pretty successfully. From roasted belly pork strips to Chiang Mai pork curry-that was fiery. And twice cooked Szechuan pork to Thai stir fried chicken green curry. A fine Bangbang chicken yesterday. And tonight chorizo with sherry and a salad made from fennel, orange, pinenuts, parsley and pomegranate seeds. So I'm sticking with what brings me happiness. To the kitchen must be a well-being mantra.

Having opened with a mention of football I go back to it. What a night on Tuesday as The Hedgehog erupted in pandemonium when England scored the final penalty. If it was like that then God knows what tomorrow afternoon will be like. I hope to go over to watch and see what happens.

Enjoy the makings of hot and sunny weekend. Rarely do such weeks last this long.

I Heard a Voice.

The Voice of Reason and Reality.

For a long time now I have been concerned about and have spoken out against the mentalization or medicalisation of perfectly normal human behaviour as mental illness. Why are the young so keen to brand themselves mentally ill? I don't know the exact figures but the number of young people applying to university and declaring a "mental health difficulty" has rocketed in the last five years. Wave upon wave of anxiety. Depression and self harm, eating problems seem never ending now. The applications for extenuation in exams and course work continues to increase every year.

My recent battles with darkness and mood and the overwhelming sense of anxiety are part of a wider whole. Devastating as my anxiety has been it is not in my eyes a mental illness. That is partly why I have agreed to go into therapy as I realise Risperidone alone will not save me.

The Conversation that surrounds us at present with everyone and his cat standing up to say they are mentally ill is misleading. Many of those who come to me for help as disabled would never get anywhere near secondary mental health services. Less likely to be admitted to a psychiatric ward. And certainly would have no chance at getting Personal Independence Premium. Yet we modify so much for them.

Whilst I do not know how to deal with this current trend I have long felt that the so called Conversation did not reflect the lives of people I met in the 1990s, on wards, in asylums and the numbing boredom of every day life on benefits. Yet my warnings have fallen on deaf ears. The reason is I'm a nobody, famous only in my own little world.

Last night my friend Lucie whom I'm known since those days posted on Facebook a brilliant piece from The Guardian on Friday. Finally someone telling the truth and shining a light on this strange phenomenon that is the self stigmatization a whole generation of young people. Have a read https://www.theguardian.com/society/2018/jun/30/nothing-like-broken-leg-mental-health-conversation?CMP=fb_gu .

Rant over, back to normal. The heat wave continues. I spent a splendid afternoon in London with Kiwi Sarah eating Vietnamese food and catching up. The trains didn't quite help our cause. How is halving the number of trains to London and doubling the carriages going to help me? I expect standing room only when Arsenal are playing at home but not a hot last day of June Saturday.

Today I have just listened to Choral Evensong on Radio 3, wonderful to hear Mendelssohn's Hear my Prayer, saw my friends at The Waggoners and I have some belly pork strips for supper. Tomorrow I start week five back at work, going up to six hours a day this week. The heat will I'm told continue. I wonder how long this will last.

Enjoy the rest of Sunday.

I Heard a Voice.

What of Tomorrow?

A full moon awaits us tomorrow evening. England clash with Belgium in the World Cup. And the weekend is nigh. I look forward to all three in a way. We are coming to the end of my first month back at work. Four weeks completed when I head home on Friday. Not without incident although nothing major I have none the less stuck with it. The plan has not quite gone to plan and we are a little behind in timings but I haven't run away in terror.

Terror did strike me with its callous cruelty the moment I woke early on Sunday morning. It was a very difficult day on which I was convinced all that I have achieved had come to nothing and the end is nigh. But I forced myself to risk seeing people at the football in the pub and by throwing caution and fear to the wind and inviting friends to dinner. Hard though it was it helped.

That fear is back in the shadows now. The fierce heat and glorious sun of this week continues. My mood is around neutral which whilst I don't like it is safer than the heights of Friday evening. That lasted but a few hours sadly. Sadly for me but perhaps not for everyone else.

Sussex Sarah flew back from Florida today. Kiwi Sarah flew back from Finland on Monday. I hope to catch up with them both soon. As Kiwi Sarah said in a text it has been way too long. My attempts at frugality this month on the face of it have paid off although the proof or otherwise will reveal itself tomorrow. For after the full moon comes pay day.

For now though my thoughts are on Verdi, Waugh and the delights of my kitchen. Simple tonight, a rare venture into pasta with a leftover tomato sauce, a little parmasan and parsley. It was pretty good. The next question is do I pour myself a chilled glass of Chablis and retire to the balcony? I will still be able to hear Falstaff out there although I will have to improvise a chair.

Have a great evening everyone.

I Heard a Voice.

A Fleeting Glimpse of the Heavens.

I have waited so long for it to happen. Despite recent improvements I have never got to where I want to be. Oh mood, why do you let me down? Why can't I fly again? See the heavens and top the world. It has been so long that I'd forgotten what it felt like. Until last night.

Yes it came out of nowhere. A soaring, heavenly sense that once again I was flying. The world was indeed my oyster. My voice became louder. My thinking faster. My tolerance diminished. And I was back. It was but a fleeting few hours after such a long absence. But it was wonderful.

Aware that I needed to keep a lid on things and avoid alienating my friends I fought to keep it under control. Everyone said how much better I was. Thank God I finally made it back to the promised land. I have dwelt in darkness oh so long. And now shining, glittering light.

So with a heavy heart I realised it had gone by morning. And I spent a gloomy couple of hours mourning my loss of contentment. It's not that today I feel depressed. I'm tired but not depressed. It is just that my buzzy times are so wonderful it was a way to fall.

Back in reality I did the washing, the shopping, the mopping and the sweeping. A light salad for lunch and now Classic FM. I bought some beef to roast beautifully rare tomorrow. And for tonight skate. I'm quite a fan although I've only ever cooked it once and that was years ago. Do I do traditional brown butter and capers or to Spain with sherry vinegar? I have the afternoon to decide. Let's hope I sleep better tonight and that wondrous illusion that is my good times returns. Well as long as I don't piss anyone off.

I Heard a Voice.

Strawberries in the Sun.

What a beautiful day it has been. Warm, sunny, relaxed and Friday. Friday is always good. I have completed my third week back at work and although a little behind schedule it has been a better week. True I had a moment of fear when I woke and thought back to that I can't get out of bed moment but it passed.

Surviving a quiet day I came home at my allotted time to a bowl of strawberries and a chilled glass of Albarino. Given it is the English summer I should really have bought some Chapel Down Bacchus but I didn't think. But the Albarino is a splendid substitute.

With the evening wearing on and the still bright light a day after the summer solstice I'm listening to Beethoven's Fidelio and sipping a cold beer. The world seems my oyster tonight although I'm not being that adventurous. What I do feel is relaxed and that has been in short supply in 2018. Long may it last.

Returning to my mood diary after a long absence it is pleasing that most of this week has been in plus territory. Only just and nowhere near my glorious mini highs but better than much of the year.

Tomorrow is another day and I'm hoping I wake refreshed, relaxed and energised. Charlie has invited me to Borough Market tomorrow as he is in town. Rather than commit to an early start I have advised that I will decide in the morning. The thought of a late lunch a Brindisa is most enticing but I don't want to sabotage recent progress by overdoing things. Also can't spend too much if I go, certainly overdid my exuberance last time we met.

The rest of the weekend is set fair so enjoy it, chill and savour the wonders of a glorious English summer.

I Heard a Voice.