The sky was sullen and grey. The air mild but damp. And the sea was very calm. Thus I set forth this morning to return home. A sharp contrast to the glorious weekend, more than a hint of autumn was about. Catching the train at midday I mused on how my journeys have been transformed by investment in the dozen years since I left Kent. The fast train has cut my travel time almost in half. The stations I use most regularly have morphed from tired, decaying, dirty chaos into shiny new and modern stations. We all moan about the price going up each January but it has certainly made my experience so much better. Off the train at St Pancras, walk across the street and straight on at King's Cross. They don't always get it right but it was a very smooth ride today.
Back at home a gentle drizzle fell as I went food shopping. A pan fried herring is on tonight's menu along with some new potatoes and watercress. Tomorrow prawns. I cooked and ate well at dad's. True yesterday's unplanned three hour lunch left me stressed and fraught but the food was good. Wood pigeon was a revelation roasted on the bone although I under-cooked dad's slightly bigger bird. The roast pork was great.
After supper I think I will watch the West Ham game. I relived the Rams win last night via a recording this afternoon. Thoughts of work are far away although I know I will wake with a jolt tomorrow and think I can't do this. We are close to chaos but I will stick to my mantra of a day at a time a task at a time.
In a couple of weeks who knows what I will be feeling but I have a greater support network now, a therapist, a psychiatrist and supervisor. In that respect I'm better equipped to return than for some years.
I will give you an update on opera night. Now I must go and cook my herring.
I Heard a Voice.
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