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.