Rambles in Sussex.

Wet afternoons in Sussex are part of my childhood. Well adolescence really. Back in those days we played sports four afternoons a week and on the fifth afternoon, Wednesday, we did other activities. In my deluded childhood foolishness I thought that an interest in military things could translate into a military career. That I was not really cut out for that my wholly undistinguished career in the Combined Cadet Force showed the folly of my ways. I just didn't recognise that. Another option might have been for one term to join my English teacher Alan Black on what he called rambles in Sussex.

Yesterday I was reminded of those days and my loss on a wet Wednesday when once again I saw the lush but wet south downs in Sussex in all their splendour. And the purpose was even more glorious, Glyndebourne. How magnificent was that? I didn't let the long journey of cold wet outlook take away from such an amazing day. The Barber of Seville may have been confusing in places but it was sublime. And the soprano lead out of this world.

A day later I'm at home once again listening to Italian opera on a wet day as the night closes in. For all the downturns of my life I am so pleased to have rediscovered culture.

Time away from work with little anxiety and an upbeat mood has I think done me some good. I will return to work tomorrow. I do not know what I will face. Nor indeed on this Thursday night do I care. It will be dealt with tomorrow.

I enjoyed my return to my kitchen. Simple Chinese food, Hoisin glazed chicken. Took all of ten minutes from the moment I took out a knife to serving it. The Chinese know a lot about food and we should learn from them. Until next time.

I Heard a Voice.