A Break in the Heat.

The stifling heat of recent days is finally abating with a light breeze, the coming of late summer night and a cold front on the way tomorrow. It's been tough going. Great to be on holiday although waiting for pay day on Friday is limiting my options somewhat.

In truth I was rather bored today. I went for a drive, stopped at The White Horse, did a little reading and made a lovely Moroccan salad of potatoes, orange and fennel. Tonight it was just reheated chorizo and chickpea stew. All helped pass a slow day.

The evening though has been lit up by a live performance at the Albert Hall of The Magic Flute broadcast on Radio 3. Stunning. Oh how I would love to see this fabulous opera. Maybe one day.

Plans are coming together for the big day on Friday. Dad and Beka will come up from Kent, Miriam and Nigel down from Ely. A table is booked for lunch at The Waggoners. And then the party! Not really a party merely an invitation to anyone and everyone to join me for a drink in the evening. I have no idea if anyone will come but I will have fun.

Next time I post I suspect I will be 50. Did that ever seem possible in the darkness of the 1990s. Close though I have been to that level of devastation and despair in the last years today I'm good. Mood is in the plus range. Anxiety is under control. And I have no pressure. I'll take that as summer gives way to autumn. Long may it continue.

I Heard a Voice.

Glorious Victory!

God was that tense? I have watched cricket for more than 40 years but I can recall little that can possibly match what happened this afternoon. The Ashes are still alive!

It's a stiflingly hot day here in Hertfordshire. An end of summer heat wave. In a few days autumn will arrive, we will remember this day and I'm on holiday. No work until 9th. After the buffeting of recent weeks I was curiously optimistic on my last day on Friday. I do not know how the next few weeks will pan out but for now I rest.

A pork shoulder joint is roasting away slowly. The potatoes are parboiled and about to go in the oven. The only cloud on the horizon for me is a second day of difficult sleep marred by bizarre and disturbing dreams. But I will sail serenely on a day at a time.

Tomorrow has no plan. Yes I will cook. Hopefully get out of the flat for a while. The countdown to my birthday ticks ever onward. I wonder if anyone will turn up on Friday? Dad is coming along with Miriam. A nice lunch on The Waggoners. A night over the road. And I will hit 50. I had a long awaited walk through the woods to the former yesterday with Gary and Ali. I'm expecting Sarah around 6 pm.

With time a little on my side I hope to go to Borough Market. Maybe Cambridge too. But that can wait. For now I celebrate a mighty day for English cricket. See you soon.

I Heard a Voice.

A Late Afternoon Gathering.

After a tedious day of data inputting and training on the next phase of said data imputting it was a delight to find a text from our former chaplain Allan suggesting a coffee and catch up. I knew he was going to be in town but as I hadn't heard anything before assumed he was consumed by other things. Uncertain if the cafe would still be open the back up plan might have been the pub. But I'm glad we didn't change plan as at the cafe we bumped into out former Dean of Students David. Pure chance but so nice to get part of the old trusted guard together.

How much they recognised I do not know. Time marches on quickly there. Already demands are coming in. Some reasonable, some not so reasonable and some damn right rude. Such is the modern world where people want what they want and complain if they don't get it. I can't see that getting any easier. What I do know is we are trying to make our working practice easier. I only follow orders and my doubts will no doubt be greeted by groans of negativity but I've been in this business a long time and know what works and what doesn't. The autumn will show who is right.

Talking of autumn the leaves are beginning to fall, the corn is ready for harvesting and the nights are drawing in and getting cooler. I have only two more days of work before my break.

On opera night I'm graced by Don Giovanni after a fine Keema Muttar curry. So simple but so good. I will return to Anais Nin when I've completed my post. Not typing well tonight. Some days it's like that. Back when I wrote my two books there were some days I couldn't string two sentences together. On others I careered ahead. The books have more of less sunk without trace but never mind. They served their purpose.

Mentally I'm in plus territory. If all goes to plan I will see my consultant on 3rd. That is assuming he's back at work. Will be eleven months since we last met if it happens.

More to come at the weekend.

I Heard a Voice.

Dido's Lament Before Bed.

Some nights when it's very busy in the pub I don't always feel at home. Yes last night there were many people I knew as ever but there was little space to sit down, people were in their own little huddles and I was hidden away in the corner. It made a slightly uncomfortable end to a more settled but cold afflicted week.

It was a miserable day yesterday so not much cheer going out. When I got home I did something that is rare for me, took out my lenses and set aside my glasses and in my myopic state listened to Dido and Aeneas with the incomparable Janet Baker. In a weird way I have history with her as she sang on our recording of Durufle's Requiem. At the time I didn't know who she was.

Sat in my empty flat, without guests and the opera on I marvelled at Dido's lament and contemplated what has been going on in the last few weeks. Looking back on here I have been quite unsettled for a while. Today I feel calm but lacking emotion. I'll take that over troubled waters of late.

My Saturday is quite quiet. Yes I went to the butcher, wandered in town and did the washing. But that's as far as it goes. I have the Test match on and it is intriguing. Odds on it's going to be a draw given how much rain there has been. Good to watch though.

Back in my kitchen I'm planning fire, a very hot Thai red chicken curry. For reasons best known to anyone but me I have put myself in the culinary firing line and invited guests for dinner tomorrow. Let us hope than anxiety doesn't come for me in the morning. Roast chicken with a pearl barley stuffing is the plan. Never made stuffing before.

With that I'm going back to the cricket. I'm not entirely sure why I'm writing this. The readership has vanished over recent weeks. Still getting some stupid machine pretending to read every other day in Italy but I don't know how to stop that.

Not sure when I'll be back.

I Heard a Voice.

Rain Stopped Play.

The rain has well and truly come. Not far away on the edge of Regent's Park the cricket at the hallowed turf of Lord's has been delayed. I don't hold out much hope for play until much later if at all. In mid August autumn has arrived. Well at least for a few days.

I too have been stopped in my tracks. Waking with sore throat, cough and streaming nose I gave up today's work plan and stayed home. I did venture out briefly to buy some food but suspect I'm now settled for the duration. After calling in to work I descended into a couple of hours of half sleep half wake and weirdest of disturbing dreams. Viral dreaming if that is what it is is rarely nice, often weird and sometimes horrific. The last two of those proved the case today.

With no cricket to watch I'm listening to the American soprano Amber Wagner on the radio at the Edinburgh Festival. She is exceptionally good. Ros has been up there in the last week or so and ventured to some shows. Despite the rain it sounds like she had a good time.

Although felled and not at my best today mentally stability seems more in sight. Last week was bad but after a few days of fear and unsettling times my mood is more neutral without being empty, my anxiety a little less prominent and my outlook is a little brighter.

I will endeavour to keep cooking though. Last night's effort at Hunan beef was a little disappointing. Lacked fire. I have a little beef left over for tonight so maybe a Thai curry. Or some other stir fried dish from China. Tomorrow I take a break from cooking and will join Jo for dinner at Hakalok. Let's hope I feel better than today.

Assuming I make it in tomorrow I will have what I hope is my final session of physio. Neck and shoulder certainly much better although the disturbed sleep has aggravated it a little.

Take care out there in the rain. May it disappear soon and cricket commence. See you all soon.

I Heard a Voice.

Prophesying the Future.

This weekend there will be four minds whirring away, aflame with thought, what if, why and how will it help? Five years ago I completed my MSc. In it I prophesied what should happen but it was ignored. Well not really ignored. Drip by drip, piece by piece it is coming true. But I don't think it will help me much. Fear stalks my mind and what looks like an untenable future. There are few possible outcomes that do me well. The not options are not at all palatable. The bright option is so unlikely that I'm more likely to have the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse arriving for tea in dinner jackets and bearing sweet pastries.

The week has been pretty brutal. I did not switch off from it for all of my waking day throughout the week. It has left me despondent and black. Can things pick up? Given I have no one to talk to until September I fear that the darkness will abide and spoil things.

On learning news this week I turned to the melancholia of Michael Head's song cycle Over the Rim of the Moon. So beautiful but so sad. Does that reflect a life gone wrong? A life marred by mental illness? A life of what might have been. All these thoughts crowd in on me today.

Being woken early by some cretin strimming the bushes right outside my bedroom window at 8 am did not help. My mood is flat and lonely. Yes I have a BBQ to prepare for tomorrow. But where do I find the motivation to do all the preparation? Each hour will tick by in inertia. If I leave things I know tomorrow I will awake in further fear.

My safety net of the kitchen is cluttered and dirty. Food is everywhere but I can do nothing with it. Will tomorrow revive my spirits? I do hope so.

For now I will leave you. Have a good weekend.

I Heard a Voice.

Reflection on a Mixed Day.

On a day in which irritation, disinterest and uneasiness played a major role I share with you my triumph in the kitchen. So simple what can be done with a tin of chickpeas, a tin of chopped tomato, a garlic clove, an onion and some good chorizo after such a day. It was great.

So to my day, I find it irritating how some people can talk in such a condescending way to people who have been in the business since they were children. I sometimes despair but I know I have to just sit back and smile.

What it did do was make me uncertain in therapy and wondering why I was talking not about me but of those who I collide with on some days. That is what supervision is about but still fighting to get through the bureaucracy on that front.

I hope next time I see him I can speak about me not work. It will be a while, with holidays it will be more than a month until we next meet.

Back to reality as I try hard to set aside minor irritants I'm listening to The Magic Flute and about to hit my new book. Return to the Olive Farm is something I picked up a few months ago and so far have only read the first couple of pages. Distracted by Anais Nin and my interest in aviation and naval matters as well as the forthcoming NFL season my reading material has been diverse, fragmented and bitty. Must correct that. Nin is growing on me although I'm sure some would find it repugnant.

Come September my time to read will be greatly reduced as the Los Angeles Rams set forth to avoid a Super Bowl defeat slump. The season usually gets me through the chaos of term time as an outlet to view away from the chaos. It is the February end of season slump that I fear and the dog days of dark, cold, wet before spring finally comes. The cycle of life and the year. Getting older and I hope wiser and more distinguished.

Now I will leave you to return to Mozart. See you at the weekend.

I Heard a Voice.

To the End of the World.

A simple e mail on a Friday afternoon. An unexpected e mail. My fallibility on line. My lack of confidence. It set in motion a train of thought that stole my sleep, made me on edge, and thinking the end of the world was nigh. It was from my bank telling me I was being charged for something. Never had that before. Yes I spent more than planned last month and had unexpected health bills but that seemed ridiculous. Anxiety I fucking hate you!

The following Monday, today, I could take it no longer and went home early to ask them. The culprit a 59p interest charge. How the fuck can I fall apart because of that? But that is the creeping, insidious and crippling nature of anxiety.

Now with Handel playing, a fine effort in the kitchen for a very creditable Moussaka I'm more relaxed but despairing at how vulnerable I can be to something so small. Given sometimes I have to make life saving decisions this should not even register on my emotional radar. Yet still it will not lay down and give up the ghost and leave me to get on with my life.

I was supposed to see my psychiatrist today but he is still unwell. I will see my therapist on Wednesday so they are still looking after me. Also had a quite useful meeting today at which I was relieved to learn that many of more fears and irritants are shared by my immediate colleagues. They are crying out for direction. The answer is not yet another policy or process but a hard look at what we are expected to do.

Summer marches on all the same though. The relentless grind of time. It is just over three weeks until I turn 50. Now that is a milestone. Still undecided what I will do I'm hoping dad will come up, Miriam will come down and Beka if she is around. It will also mark my holiday. The final pit stop before the endless stream of demand comes back in September.

Enjoy your week.

I Heard a Voice.