A Rare Friday to Myself.

The sun finally came out today. Days of rain have left the ground saturated, everywhere the fallen leaves are slippery and wet. On this Friday I have the day off. My original plan to go to Cambridge was abandoned last night as I was so tired. Plan B was scuppered by lack of funds to go to Borough Market. So instead I ventured out in the cold but pale light and had a wander in town. My hair is now cut, I have Sarah's birthday present, I'm restocked with wine and my fridge is ready for the weekend.

I enjoyed Thanksgiving Day yesterday. A triumphant turkey thigh roasted to perfection with marvellous roast potatoes, vegetables and a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc all accompanied by an evening of NFL made it very special.

Slept okay in the main and woke up late. I feel relaxed after a difficult week at work. The only anxiety is when I went to collect my prescription it wasn't there. Despite me requesting my consultant to extend my review date for some reason the message didn't get to GP. Now they won't give me any until I have a phone consultation on Thursday. Cutting it a bit fine so suspect the anxiety will build.

That aside my weekend will be in the kitchen. I am going to Jo's grandson's 1st birthday party tomorrow. That should be fine. On the menu there is chorizo and chickpea stew tonight, Lancashire hotpot tomorrow and roast chicken on Sunday.

Back to it on Monday. Three more weeks to go. Everyone is exhausted so we need to hang on. Not sure things will improve in the new year but at least I'm meeting some interesting people. That keep things ticking over.

If you are coming to the end of your working week enjoy the weekend. I certainly will.

I Heard a Voice.

A Chink of Light.

An inky black sky hung over the campus late this afternoon. What light there had been was fading. But I could see just a chink of light. All day it was dark, gloomy and wet. November is waning and it has been a bleak one. I'm edging closer to a rest. But still there is more to do. I saw some interesting people today. Few had I seen before. I guess it was a good day.

Four days have now gone since my last post. I have been in unexpected turmoil following the news of the death. Funnily enough my long neglected blog has been lit up by the news. Not for what I posted at the weekend but for a post where I mentioned Cleobury in that dark despair of January 2018. Should I feel guilty for my post? No. Did I tell the truth? Yes. Truth of course has many angles and I'm sure the great musician that the world mourns despaired at having to deal with me all those years ago. I was vile to him and he was vile to me. At 13 generally we are vile. We do not have to be as adults.

Today is the first time I feel okay. It has been a hard journey since Saturday. A lot to talk about tomorrow when once again I get to rant and rave in therapy. Actually I don't rant and rave, well not in a loud way. Slowly though all those years of anguish and hate are coming out. Am I feeling better for it? I'm not sure but I am sure I'm pleased I went back to it.

Back at home my kitchen took me to Thailand. Pretty good. An evening of watching the Rams has been curtailed by the thumping they took from what may be a best team in the NFL in Los Angeles last night. The Super Bowl hangover. I will watch another day. For now I look forward to episode 4 of Rick Stein's new series. So far I've cooked two dishes from the book, rack of lamb with dauphinoise potatoes, and pork medallions with prunes and cognac. Didn't quite nail either of them but they tasted great. Will do better next time. See you then.

I Heard a Voice.

Another Link Severed.

We rarely speak ill of the dead. Of course that means at a time of bereavement we do not speak the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. How many funerals have I been to are a glorious celebration of life with the worst bits airbrushed out. Always. This morning I woke to the news that Stephen Cleobury had died. You may not know who he is but I have known him since 1982 when he became Director of Music at King's. I was in my last year and looking forward to a new world after the at times brutal, violent world of Philip Ledger. Brutal and violent maybe but terribly exciting. We thought we were the best in the world. The fact that I never hear recordings on the radio from those days belies another story.

I was sadly mistaken in my optimism. Cleobury took an instant dislike to me and my final year was soured by what might have been. My favourite memory of him as the world mourns a "great" man was gleefully grinning at him as he had to move aside each time I went up to receive an athletics cup during my final prize day in 1983. I almost swept the board so he moved quite a lot.

I do not wish his surviving family ill. That he betrayed his wife for a woman my age did not kill his career. I have very fond memories of Penny who was always kind to me. My thoughts too are with their daughters who will be in the mid 40s now.

Where I'm at is a state of very mixed emotion. My cousin Cedric keeps telling me to let go of the past. But on days like today the demons come out to play and I live in a strange state of wanting to berate myself for being too unkind but also remembering the scars that have marred my mental health since I was a young man.

My emergence from King's left an angry, damaged and arrogant teen. Being a teenager is horrible enough but I do not like who I was then. Foolishly when I had my breakdown I thoughts recovery was about going back to who I was. That was a mistake.

Now at 50 I'm sitting in my small but warm flat. Beethoven string trios play. I have vegetable stock bubbling away on the hob. And I'm alone with my thoughts. No doubt in good time I will cook. I will drink tonight and I will go to bed. Tomorrow is another closer to work but also to the end of term. Next week will be a short one. Friday is booked off. Vague idea to go to Cambridge and hear the choir. No longer will I get a good seat, Cleobury owed me that much and was usually graceful when I saw him. Oh how the sins of the past are glossed over.

I will not attend the funeral unlike when Ledger died in 2012. No doubt the press will trumpet a wonderful man. The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. We keep alive fond memories. I just need to bury the past.

I Heard a Voice.

Through Frosted Fields.

There is a savage beauty to the landscape in late autumn when the north wind bites and the bitter cold bedecks the fields with a sharp frost. So cold this morning I couldn't even get my car key in the lock to go to work. At my old flat I was able to keep my car undercover but at the same time I forever worried about kids sheltering from the rain and wind to smoke their spliffs and awful weed. That anxiety that they might damage it or do something malicious added to that overall sense of fear.

Driving in through those frosted fields lit up my journey. I like days like today. When I got there we only had half the team owing to leave and illness so we were up against it somewhat but by close of play we had got a lot done.

We are approaching the final bend of the track on what has been a gruelling term. I've stood up well in the main but still struggle to deal with the constant fear and expectation that I can never really match. Another person is leaving although she's an outsider who works with us. But she is my friend and I will miss her. She messaged in glowing terms yesterday recalling the day as a trainee nurse she heard me speak and give them all a real perspective that can never be gleaned from a text book. Funny that several years ago that programme twice tried to recruit me to an academic post. Oh what might have been? But we are judged on what we do not what we might have done.

Once the days was over I drove home in heavy traffic. Enough was enough. Heating went on, the kitchen hosted my efforts at making cottage pie and I am listening to Handel. A little reading after this. I feel okay. Not done my mood diary for a few weeks, should I go back to it? I see my psychiatrist in a couple of weeks. Be nice to see him after he was off sick for sometime. He too heard one of my lectures and told me it was the best and most memorable of his MSc. All those gigs have dried up now but maybe one day.

Take care out there in the cold, easy to slip over on the ice. Until I next appear, farewell.

I Heard a Voice.

The Waning Moon.

A quiet Saturday afternoon in November. Dull and grey out. But it is mild. After a cold week I will welcome that. There is not a load to report on the week that was except driving home most days to the light of a beautiful waning moon. The power of the moon always draws me. Is there anything in the full moon and my people? Some day yes, others say there is no science to prove that. But the world of mental health is anything but a science.

Sat at home in the warm I've just heard the Byrd Five Part Mass Credo. Marvellous stuff. I recorded it many years ago and recall in those days finding it all a big and not very interesting effort. Now in my middle age I marvel at the sublime music. I missed so much as a child so I guess I have to make up for it now.

My plans for the month have not worked out as I'd hoped. Disappointing but will help the austerity measures. Having booked the last Friday of the month off though I'm not going to waste it. So assuming it's not hammering it down with rain I will hop on the train and go to Cambridge. A nice lunch somewhere, a wander, a pub or two, and maybe go to King's for Evensong.

That day out will be spent alone but that is okay. Sometimes I like my own company. I will not be alone tonight, Sarah is coming for dinner. A rack of lamb and some dauphinoise potatoes, green beans and a glass of Chianti. From Rick Stein's new book which I'm very much enjoying.

The kitchen though is a little way off at this stage. Around 3 pm I'm popping out for a pint at The Waggoners. Hoping to meet some friends after their walk in the woods. Would have been nice to join them on the way but it's very muddy and I can't stay too long. Another time.

Enjoy your weekend everyone and I will see you soon.

I Heard a Voice.

Subsisting Alone.

A few days on from the mental desert that erupted on Tuesday I'm slowly recovering. I stayed home Tuesday and Wednesday. Should really have done so on Thursday and Friday too but determined not to let anyone down I ventured in. Now it is over for a couple of days.

Alone in my warm flat I have every intention of shutting the world out. My own company can be okay, tedious, fearful and all myriad of other feelings but today it feels vaguely okay. My mind is stirring back into functionality. Not there yet though. Still perplexed as to what happened but I will just be for a while.

The only task I will set myself this weekend is to cook. In a few years time I imagine young people will only know of existence of butchers' shops through Google, Wikipedia and old sepia photos. They are sadly dying. But it is amazing what one can find. My venture out this morning brought me duck eggs, cherry cake, rump steak and chicken thighs. A duck awaits roasting for Sunday lunch. A beautiful egg curry that I just made up adorned my lunch tray. And out of choice I will share with no one.

Cold air from the north is chilling the November days. Soon it will be here for the duration. But I'm in the warm so the gloom is not really a factor. Having just listened to the end of Cosi fan Tutti I have moved on to Mendelssohn's violin concerto. I have a lot of his music but it usually gets eschewed in favour of Mozart, Handel, Beethoven and Haydn. All good stuff though.

My thoughts turned briefly towards Christmas shopping when in town. Must get going on that at some point. Found something to get Sarah but not anyone else. I'm still husbanding my financial resources after last month's battering. If I stick to my plan of only buying things I need, curb the eternal urge to go out to restaurants and make my own lunch for work the savings will mount up. A very small lottery win made me smile but I won't be retiring any time soon.

Take care on this cold day. See you all soon.

I Heard a Voice. 

Watery Mess.

After yesterday's wipe out I had hoped today that I would be feeling better. In fact my mood is as flat and grey as the day outside. Deciding staying home was the best course of action I went back to bed and ended up sleeping close on ten hours. It didn't help.

The grey damp autumn contrasts with those beautiful but chilly days when the sun shines, the hue of the leaves dance around in the wind and that sharpness to the air that sometimes happens. No sign today though.

Venturing out to buy bread and milk several times I almost slipped on wet leaves and mud as the rain came gently down. Not so good for the mood.

Since getting home I've been quite reflective on what might have gone wrong. There was a death last week that stirred painful memories. A passing incident in the pub of a chance encounter with a coked up drunk idiot where no harm was really done but brought back some of the darker recesses of my mental powerlessness. Is that what is happening? I don't really know but we will see tomorrow when I go once more back to therapy.

The odd thing about today is that the anxiety and edginess have dissipated. That is good. But what I'm left with is that same sensation that usually happens when I increase my medication. That terrible emptiness of thought and emotion. A general feeling of being low and devoid but with no capacity to respond. Medication is at normal levels and hadn't crossed my mind until an hour ago that maybe I will have to do that.

My gloom is however being slightly moved by Handel's opera Orlando. A warm flat, no expectation and glorious music may go some way towards restoring my balance. See you all again soon.

I Heard a Voice.

Paying a Price?

There's no sign of the sun today. An pale light pervades a landscape of fallen leaves. After a weekend of excess I'm not doing so well. What might have been was not and England were blown away in the World Cup Final. Watching with South African friends marked a memorable day. They celebrated, we commiserated. In the melee and chaos that is starting so early in the morning Ali lost her wedding ring and I lost my poppy. The ring was found and the poppy can be replaced.

What may be harder to shift is my edgy, fearful, shaking and low mood. Looking back whilst I've not been flying I have been elevated in recent weeks. Setting aside the endless demand to deliver the un-deliverable I have none the less thrived. Is that a crash or a blip?

Sleeping poorly set it off. Bad dreams and restlessness did not make the start of the day much fun. I'm devoid of motivation although I did manage to do my shopping, get petrol and have lunch. But that has left me exhausted.

An afternoon on the sofa beckons. Currently listening to music from the Reformation on the radio I guess it is not a bad start. Whether I can summon the energy to cook later is something I will discover. Currently have no interest in eating or drinking.

The wider world continues in its vein of chaos. Another election is looming, the UK is still in the EU and we're still none the wiser. I long since lost touch with truth here. Does it really exist? I will leave that for another day. Take care out there on this grey day. See you soon.

I Heard a Voice.