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.