Misty Morning.

Hi all, hope you enjoyed Christmas if you celebrate it, holidays if you don't and are in good cheer.

Fog has descended on the Kent coast. We made it through Christmas. A roast goose on the day, a mountain of cheese and a lake of red wine. Presents given and received. 

Miriam and Nigel went home yesterday. I go tomorrow. Try as I might switching off from work has been hard. I'm facing difficult times there despite how hard I work. 

There is however another week off before I face that head on. Very much hope to get to see Jess next week. 

Happy New Year when we get there.

I Heard a Voice. 

A Kentish Sunday.

And so to rest after a brutal couple of months. My emotions are raw, my stress high and anxiety for the future prominent. Will it ever get any easier?

I fought through the traffic, the speed restrictions and the rain to make it to the Kent coast yesterday. Dad had forgotten I was coming. 

This morning brought sunshine but high winds. I woke very late so I'm behind. There is leg of pork in the oven roasting. I'm struggling with the crackling but hopefully some at least will come out.

Dad is at church as I write. I'm here for a week, very much needed. 

I'm not depressed and my anxiety not overwhelming but I do need to switch off. 

Reviewing 2024 there has been illness, loss, death, long dormant memories of the past awakened, brilliance, despair, joy and sadness. Such is the human state. I am flawed but I am a survivor. I am weak but I will fight. Hardest of all is to recall that I am loved. I must live with that. 

I Heard a Voice. 

Til Death Do Us Part.

The month of November marked the deaths of six people known to me. All were older people so not exactly unexpected. Yet two deaths stood out. Two men whose careers went side by side, one as head, one as deputy for more than four decades.

They were buried on consecutive days last week. One was widely publicised, well attended and happy memories. I attended. The other with no publicity was buried the day before. One I mourn. The other I do not.

Me sense is that it will not be long before light is shed on a dark place. Speaking to an incumbent in the present day at the wake I remarked that there wasn't much safeguarding in those days to which she responded I know. 

Us survivors glory in an arrogant and storied past but how many are still fighting their demons 45 years later? I still do sometimes. 

Away from that my daily work and existence remains difficult at times. But I guess that comes with the territory of what I do and where I do it. No institution is without its faults and challenges. 

Christmas is but ten days away. I need the break. In the meantime I listen to Mozart and contemplate lunch at The Waggoners shortly. 

I Heard a Voice. 

They Died With no Apology.

This time yesterday life was going quite well. Much to my surprise I passed my video supervision submission for my university course. I'd done good. I was stable. And it was nearly Friday. 

Then, late last night, a cataclysmic event tore through my psyche. Anger, pain, joy, hate, guilt and relief exploded in my mind and fought for control. 

Another death. There have been six this month. But this one was a severing of the past. The veiled, secret past I've alluded to before on here but never revealed. The world will shake when the veil is lifted. And I think it will soon be lifted.

The power players of that world are now all dead. And none died acknowledging their guilt. None offered an apology. And died ignoring the guilt of their actions. 

Is a purveyor, a provider, an enabler guiltier than an actual abuser? Ignoring the truth because someone wants to live the illusion. 

The man who died was a charlatan. Another hanger on from those days. Exploitation of children for an idea, a tradition and a delusion is a heinous act.

Will I reveal the secrets? Not today. I will only provide hints. Veiled hints. It is for others to rent asunder that insidious veil. And it will be rent asunder. 

I Heard a Voice. 

Stormy Skies.

You find me on a cold, wet and windy Saturday afternoon at home. The storm that has brought chaos to many parts of the country has in the main spared us here in Hertfordshire but it is not inviting out.

My friend Marie is visiting. We are dining well, Vietnamese pork meatballs with a spicy sweet and sour peanut sauce last night. French fish soup today. There will be Sri Lankan prawn curry tonight and roast chicken tomorrow. 

What to say of this week? Or what can I safely say with all the attention I'm attracting? There are people watching for any false moves. I need to be wary.

But in the world of mental health that is not my way. If I am silent who else will speak? And on Wednesday I spoke. An interview was published of me talking on the theme of mental health and work. On that I'm something of an expert.

Calling out errors, ignorance and inequality is vital to promote disability rights. The cause is greater than me and greater than those hearing things they don't want to hear.

My next shout out will be on Tuesday where I will be on an online panel talking about men's mental health. Again, someone has to do it. Men need a voice where they are ashamed into silence.

One of the reasons I get in trouble is because I try to call out the truth. The Jungian Shadow, I light it up to challenge and to educate. That sometimes makes me a target on both sides of the fence.

Stay safe on this stormy day!

I Heard a Voice. 

Somewhat Brighter Today.

A day on from my last post life looks literally and figuratively brighter. The sun has come out and mentally the empty paralysis has abated somewhat. Who knows what later or tomorrow brings.

At my flat Don Giovanni plays, shoulder of lamb roasts and I've been reading. 

Outside in the world life goes on oblivious to my personal challenges and demons. Mood disorders combined with severe anxiety tend to bring unsettled emotions. I want the buzzy times to come even if just for a short time.

That said even if I could switch on the mood it will probably bring more trouble than good. There were glimpses in midweek but the door was firmly slammed shut on my very difficult Friday. 

I have not see the need to increase my Risperidone for ages despite the nightmare induced overwhelm of a couple of weeks ago. Leave well alone for the time being. 

For now I focus on Sunday afternoon, savour the thought of Sunday lunch and go back to my reading. 

I Heard a Voice. 

Not a Successful Day.

Not much has gone right today. Everywhere I went there was traffic chaos, no parking and not much worth buying. Add in a flat and empty mood it does not feel good. Perhaps I should just write today off to experience. 

Prior to a flat Saturday the week was decidedly odd. There were moments of triumph including the accolade of compliment of the week. Downsides too though. Exactly three years in the job yesterday life seems to have reverted to those overwhelming days back then. 

Going forward I'm fearful. That I can't do everything is clear. But it's also clear that at times I can't rely on others. Not a healthy or positive place to be.

I've not seen a soul today. Do I go out and find someone to talk to? Or stay home and try to stay warm?

Not sure I have anything else to say today. Other than see you next time.

I Heard a Voice. 

They Came in the Night.

I smoked cigarettes for many years. In 2014 after a battle with whooping cough I gave up. People said "do you feel any better?" My answer was no change except the nightmares stopped. It had never crossed my mind that the toxic combination of chemicals in cigarettes was bringing on a nightly horror show. 

Last night they came back. Four horrific nightmares one after another destroyed my ability to function. And so I called in sick.

I feel tired, anxious and empty. Overwhelmed? No not really but I do not feel good. 

Other than to go out to a few bits, some cash and petrol I've done little all day. I don't plan on venturing out this afternoon. 

So what of the coming week? Get back to stability. Get back to work. And get back to being me.

Train strikes aside, yes they are striking again, I should be headed to Kent on Friday. See dad, go to an exhibition and catch up with friends. 

Take care out there.

I Heard a Voice. 

One Day on a Long Journey

On this cold, grey autumnal day I'm listening to The Coronation Mass and reading. It is my wont to listen to music and read.

Today has not quite gone to plan. My lovely friend Krishna has cancelled on our lunch plans as she is unwell. My sleep was interrupted by poor dreams. And there is no sign of the sun.

Nonetheless though it marks a special day. On this day in 2013 I launched my second book Charon's Ferry in Kent. Many see it as a huge accolade that I wrote two books and eventually got published. Some see my books as life changing. To me they are just something I did a long time ago. 

Accolade or not that day also brought something unexpected. I made peace with my mum. Mum was most politely described as complex. Later years unravelled some of that. Still I talk of her in therapy. 

She died four months later. I'm so glad we made a kind of peace before she died.

Back now in present the last few weeks have been very difficult. Having a job, especially a management job, can be like that. But I will take it one day at a time, one task at a time. 

Roast beef awaits at The White Hart, there will be horseradish, roast potatoes, vegetables and wine.

Stay warm out there.

I Heard a Voice. 

A Voice in the Silence.

A long time ago I had no voice. I knew one day I would have to find a voice. And I was determined of that the day they locked me up behind metal doors and metal bars.

When my voice slowly came back it was an angry voice. No one wants to hear an angry voice. But I was surrounded by angry voices. With that somehow, somewhere, and at some time a voice had to emerge. 

I'm lucky enough to know a number of the great campaigners who found they voice before me. All are more famous than me. I'm a nobody outside my world. But my world is quite big.

People have read my books and been stunned. People have heard me speak and been inspired. People at their darkest moments have heard me and were struck by a tiny glimmer of hope.

There are words written and spoken. Words can be power. They can also be a vulnerability. 

Silent on here for weeks. A week ago I spoke out. And it hit home with immense power. Words can be misinterpreted. It was my angry voice I should never let out. And for that I feel ashamed. 

When one of the great campaigners recognised world wide says "you are our leader now" that is huge weight to carry. But I must step up yet perhaps in a more measured way.

I have a lot to change in my approach, the tasks up am set, and in using my voice more judiciously. 

I Heard a Voice.

Not Even a Goodbye?

A year ago I had a long, intense, emotive and intimate video call with someone very precious. She wanted to come up that night but it was late and we both had work in the morning. We parted with love and connection.

How did I know I'd never see her again? She was preparing to come soon. All I got was a "how are you" text a week later. After 7 months of silence she asked me to stop contacting her.

Losing people has been a recurrent theme in my life. I suppose it is in all our lives. But it is so desperately sad and painful. The defining moments of my life have been those departures. 

No one has ever given an explanation for it. They just go.

For someone like me who doubts everything, overthinks everything and has seen so much darkness it is but another hammer blow. And I've had many.

My friends are all very angry with her. Me less so. Friendships and relationships in the dark world of mental health are unstable, risky and end in tears.

Yet I've cried no tears. Nor had a breakdown as I did 33 years ago. Maybe I do actually have the resilience and courage that so many moniker me with. Just doesn't feel like it.

I see too much good in people and don't always sense their self absorption and selfishness. That is how I judge myself not others. 

In the twilight of another anniversary I will mourn. I will mourn for me not her. My friends do too. Saying goodbye is hard but not saying it scars. And seen enough scarring.

I Heard a Voice. 

September Sun.

Hello out there. It's been a couple of weeks since I came on here.

I'm alone in my flat listening to The Barber of Seville. A duck is roasting in the oven. The duck stock made from the giblets is cooling. And outside the September sun brings a warming hue.

My return to work last week was challenging to say the least. Whilst I cannot go into details on here what I will say is all decisions and plans have consequences and some of those are unseen. The next year is going to be tough. 

For all those challenges I am still me. I'm still cooking, reading, and listening to my opera.

I find out next week whether I will be able to continue with my course. Yes academic failure which until a couple of months ago was unknown in my adult life may scupper the whole thing. Now there would be a dilemma. 

Yet on this Sunday afternoon I'm not worried about that. Instead I will enjoy my cooking, my opera and my book. After lunch I will sit in the sunshine with a pint and take stock.

I Heard a Voice. 

Holiday Time, Borough Market Awaits!

Greetings as the sun burns off the cloud on what will be a hot day. This is my first post from my laptop that I got through DSA. I'm on my holidays! Certainly well needed.

Having smashed it out of the park with my team last week mania was hovering. Lack of sleep though has calmed things down somewhat. Calm equilibrium has returned.

So what of my adventures? Yesterday I went to St Albans. Lunch at Little Marrakesh, I ate sardine charmoula and drank Casablanca beer. A nice wander and bought some rugby shirts. Sadly my two chosen pub options did not materialise as The Boot was closed for renovation and The White Swan only had strong beer and I tend to avoid that.

Waking early once again today I'm preparing to go to Borough Market. Not been since Easter. Meeting Laura, Emma and Beka for lunch at Brindisa, some shopping and a pub. The sun will shine and we will make merry. Tomorrow brings dinner with Sarah at The Neem Tree and Friday I turn 55. Miriam and Nigel are taking me out to lunch at The Waggoners.

On Saturday I travel to the seaside. Back in Kent for a few days no doubt I will eat and drink too much. But I will see dad and various friends. Traveling home on Tuesday I have no plans after that for the rest of my two week holiday.

Catch you all then.

I Heard a Voice.

Ragu on a Wet Saturday.

Summer has deserted us today. Been pouring down since I got up. Stupidly early in fact, couldn't sleep. Been to Oaklands, Welwyn Garden City and Hatfield by 11.30 am.

As I write there is a hint of coming mania. The tiredness is keeping a brake on things for the time being. But all the stars are coming into line. I've spent a lot but that's okay, I got paid yesterday. 

To say our team triumphed yesterday is an understatement, we blew it away with our camp. With VIPs visiting yesterday my knowledge, experience and incessant talking about mental health has got us and me on the map. One visitor said it was the highlight of her week. Another that I was inspirational. The upshot is I may soon be talking to people in exalted places. 

Little me with my story of tragedy, trauma, loss, heart break, breakdown, fighting back and surviving has brought rave reviews. Actually the credit really lies with our amazing team. 

See now why the mood is up, the spending rampant and the positivity on a cold, wet and miserable day?

I bought lovely things. Now my culinary adventures are under with ragu. I will save that for the week. Tonight there will be Vietnamese pork meatballs with a spicy peanut sauce. Tomorrow roast turkey. And Monday slow roast belly pork with fennel seeds and garlic. 

My holiday is underway and it will be glorious. Back in sunny Kent next weekend. Before then I turn 55. A long journey. 

I Heard a Voice. 

The Chill of Autumn.

Greetings on this Sunday morning. Although we are still in sunny August the chill of autumn is with us. Soon the leaves will turn and fall. The conkers will be strewn across our land. And game will adorn by table. 

Life has been quite tricky since my last post. Work has brought up a series of unexpected obstacles. But we're working our way through. 

Away from there I'm mainly doing okay. My friends James and Charlie are visiting this weekend. An eating and drinking bonanza of decadence. I'll have lunch with them at 1 pm before they head to their respective homes.

Just one week lies between me and my needed summer holiday. I haven't had a week off since Easter. In less than two weeks my birthday will occur. Lunch with Miriam and Nigel then a few beers in the pub. 

Enjoy the rest of the weekend. 

I Heard a Voice. 

Roast pork, Handel and my Book.

Greetings on a milder and overcast day. I woke late and spent a gentle morning cooking roast pork, listening to opera and reading my book. 

Not quite sure how I feel today. I'm certainly not low but no sign of mania. Kinda nothing type of day.

The weekend has been good though. My friend Jayne came down from Cambridge yesterday. Marvellous lunch at The Waggoners, a walk back through the woods and a couple of pints in the pub.

As it's the summer holidays it is quite hard to motivate myself to work. I have the dreaded appraisal on Wednesday. Long time readers of this blog may recall some of the horrific experiences in appraisals past. Why 3 hours have been scheduled I have no idea. That does not seem normal. 

There are 3 weeks until my long awaited summer break. Have a few things planned including a few days in Kent with dad. I will meet friends at Borough Market 2 days before my birthday. 55 sounds very grand.

Until next time I will leave you all. Have wonderful Sunday.

I Heard a Voice. 

Another Day in Summer.

Greetings on a mild Sunday morning as the sun begins to emerge from the clouds. You find me at home alone listening to Carmen and reading. 

For the first time in months I actually feel physically well. With ailment after ailment through the autumn, winter and spring health has returned. And with it my mental state has improved. Yes I'm still wounded but not overwhelmed. Well not today. 

Summer came to the fore this week after so much rain. Hot, humid and sunny days whilst energy sapping have been most welcome. 

On this Sunday a corn feed chicken will go in the roast shortly. I made a herb butter with tarragon, thyme, marjoram and parsley which I spread beneath the skin. With new potatoes, roast carrots, asparagus and broccoli hopefully it will be a marvellous summer feast.

Tomorrow work beckons but with the coming of the holidays it will be slower. We are moving offices over the summer. I view the new working space on Tuesday. 

Must get cooking now.

I Heard a Voice. 

Still Valued and Cared About

On another grey and cold summer day you find me alone at home listening to Puccini. Apart from Gareth my butcher I haven't seen a soul all day. The nightmares came back as I tried to sleep. Not a good start.

The last 10 weeks have made me reflect on who I am, what I am and how people perceive me. The hammer blow on 9th May of someone so close slamming the door in my face with no explanation still reverberates. Like the terrifying sound of the metal door in the asylum all those summers ago.

For the most part people praise, wonder, revere and are inspired by my story of survival in the mental health world. Indeed almost exactly 30 years ago the prognosis on my discharge papers read "likely to commit suicide within 6 months". What a horrible thing to say. But I survived those 6 months, the next 12 months and indeed 29 years.

Yet I still have to live with the pain of the present. My reflection was a lot to do with the university where I worked for 14 years. There too high praise as well as poison. In the time since people from that world have fallen silent, ignored me or overtly cut off contact. That's painful to live with. 

During the week though I saw 2 people from there on the street. On Tuesday I bumped into a former student who asked if he could hug me. Then yesterday I bumped into a former colleague who also hugged me and relayed they still talk about me and still miss me.

That not all from the past want to shut down from me brings strength when needed, validation that is needed and reaffirmation that I'm not the failed and flawed character my paranoia tells me but someone loved, thought about and valued. I need that.

I Heard a Voice.

Alone and Silent.

I'm alone in my flat. I'm silent. Not uttered a word since coming back from shopping and lunch. Having been paid on Tuesday I have bought a few things. Mainly food but I did buy some things for my kitchen. I resisted the lure of a beautiful suit, I would simply never wear it.

The clear indicator is that I'm not in mini mania. The buzzy times I love so much but others don't love 

The last two months have been tough mentally. Losing people who matter and are loved has a devastating effect on my fragile self esteem. My confidence suffers, I doubt everything and none of the brilliant accolades people ascribe to me have meaning. Nor indeed are believed. 

This week my world was stunned to learn I failed my university assignment. Stunned into silence as one friend said. I don't do much well. Mental health yes, cooking maybe, writing, allegedly and academically I have my moments. Clearly I missed something somewhere. And I'm living with this in my lonely and silent world. 

Mozart plays, I've been reading and trying to manage the emptiness of my mood.

On Thursday out there in the real world the General Election takes place. That change is needed is obvious to many. But what change will we get? I don't know who to vote for. But I will vote.

With that I leave you.

I Heard a Voice. 

Some Good?

I'm not sure where to start. Or indeed whether to start at all. Maybe I'm wiser to say nothing. But I cannot not post. For today is that day. 34 years since my sudden and cataclysmic descent into madness. 

A girl. A hangover. Sunshine. Myopia. Guilt. They all played a part on the sunny June morning at Selwyn College Cambridge. 

What happened next is recorded in books. In pain. In tears. In despair. And in suicide survival. 

All these years later I'm older, greyer, fatter and balder. But against the odds I survived. And that was a miracle. 

Who could have known that on the day my frail life collapsed in my entitled, decadent arrogance of youth so much would have impacted on so many lives?

My books, little read but some say inspiring  record the details and the pain. Did anyone ever give a more brutal, terrifying and accurate description of suicide? If they did I've never read it.

I'm a failed writer, a failure in relationships, a failure in family, a failure in Cambridge and a failure in what might have been. What happened happened because a bright young woman met a talented, clever but utterly flawed and traumatised man in Spain, got involved then walked away. Sound familiar from the last five weeks?

Alone again but loved, valued and respected. Could I ask for more after a lifetime of what ifs but utter failure?

I will listen to my music, look at my pictures and read my letters. I know not where she is, the woman who sent those letters. But wherever she is I hope her actions on that sunny June day in Cambridge has brought about some good. 

Many say I saved their lives. All I say is I just talk to people. 

I Heard a Voice. 

The Shadowy Past.

A face I'd not seen for some time appeared last night. She knew me but I didn't recognise her even though she seemed vaguely familiar. She flitted around in her drunkenness stopping for a few moments to talk to me.

Not until I was leaving and she insisted on giving me her number did it finally dawn on me who she was.

She worked in the pub before lockdown. Married at the time to a curry house owner clearly things had changed a lot since then.

Back at home somewhat bemused I pondered whether to contact her. A few weeks after the earth shattering news of Charlotte walking away do I really need another unstable and chaotic woman with a penchant for drugs and alcohol in my life?

I don't know the answer to that but I suspect like Charlotte Jasmine will be a flitting ghost from the shadowy past and the world of mental health. 

When I finally got to bed I endured a night of disturbing dreams. One about mum forced me to get up at 8 am, ridiculous for a Sunday. 

The sun was shining then. Now it is grey and cold. I feel tired and worn. And I know this coming week will be both busy and challenging. 

With luck though what has remained unchanged since changing job will finally shift. Probably too late but it is needed.

In the emptiness of a grey Sunday morning I'm listening to Handel's Saul and have been reading Anthony Bourdain's Kitchen Confidential. Almost finished. If that doesn't confirm that despite the comments of many friends I shall not and never will work in the food business I don't know what will.

At a more modest home roast rolled breast of turkey with sage and thyme wrapped in bacon is on the lunch menu. Looking forward to that.

I Heard a Voice.

The Old Man and the Sea.

Walking along the seafront yesterday afternoon in sporadic sunshine I stopped to take a picture. What I saw afterwards was an old man who was and is hurting and the glories of nature. After it reminded me of Ernest Hemmingway's Nobel Prize winning novel The Old Man and the Sea.

There are many things that are unremarkable about me. Approaching 55, no family or partner, living alone in a small commuter town. Yet it has been a storied life. As my unofficial therapist often remarks "you've led a very rich life".

So what am I? Story teller? Mentally ill? A former world class musician? An author? A cook? An opera lover? A reader? A failure?

The last couple of years have been so tough. Losing people I love and care about really hurts.

But on this sunny Sunday morning on the coast I'm doing what I do every day. I survive, I cook and I entertain. 

In two hours there will be roast rib of beef, Yorkshire pudding and horseradish, strawberries after then cheese and grapes. The wine will flow and once again I will be home with my dad and my friends. 

I Heard a Voice. 

Roast Beef of Old England.

Greetings on a now sunny Sunday morning. Tosca has just finished, I'm alone in the silence of my flat and drinking iced water. Sounds idyllic I guess but not all has been well since I last wrote to you all.

The reverberation of the hammer blow of just over two weeks ago continues. Hard to describe the mental impact, bewilderment, loss, sadness. What is lacking is anger. 

My friends are all very angry about what has happened. I can make no sense of it but others are voicing what needs to be voiced but I cannot voice myself. 

I try to be kind and caring to all. Sadly that is not always reciprocal when it comes to what happened. Another cherished and loved person walks out on my life with no explanation. 

Ruminating is never good but at present I can't stop it. At least physically I am better. 

Each day is struggle that must be filled. Today it is with the legendary English culinary masterpiece and signature roast beef. I have a table booked at The White Hart at 1 pm. The beef there is stunning. 

Sadly it will pass all too quickly and I suspect my mind will turn and fold in on itself. Mental illness, twists of fate and bad decision making still pervade my life. So I will take it one day at a time. 

I Heard a Voice. 

Farewell the Past

You must accept my recent silence. Not sure who is reading anyway. Maybe no one.

The truth is that the last month has been really tough physically and mentally. Not a good combination. 

When I went to London a month ago I knew it could trigger a bumpy ride. And it did.

What I didn't expect was that at a time of vulnerability someone I care so much about walked out of my life.

That I've made catastrophic decisions on friendships and relationships is a given, well documented on here, in my books, in my guilt and in my shame. But I struggle to understand why someone would walk away without any explanation. That sadly is what just happened to me.

A lot of my friends are very angry with her. All agree I didn't deserve that and that it is not something I've done but more about her. But it still hurts. Really bad.

Alongside this hammer blow I have been really sick with what the doctors think is a virus. They signed me off last Thursday. Slowly getting better I think. No longer have fever or headache. The cough is less dry and painful. 

Life has not been kind to me this last month. But I will prevail. 

I Heard a Voice. 

A Hacking Cough.

On a beautiful sunny Sunday morning in my small part of Hertfordshire I'm listening to The Marriage of Figaro and reading. In truth the last two weeks have been plagued by a mystery malady.

Three doctors on Tuesday could advise only that it is a virus. An unusual one at that. Horrendous sore throat and hacking cough accompanied by fever and headache. I worked as long as I could before finally taking to my bed on Friday. 

It shows no sign of abating so going back to the doctors on Tuesday. 

Tomorrow is a public holiday here. Never find them easy but will probably take myself off for a pub lunch somewhere. 

On matters pertaining to today I decided I'd cook later rather than earlier. Roast Duck with plum sauce is on the menu. Got some Medoc to accompany it. No one is coming round. 

My flat has been a lonely place the last few weeks. No visitors. Cyberspace too has been quiet along with the phone. My old friend Anna did reach out to me a couple of days ago. I think people are maybe a little worried about me but just don't know what if anything to say.

I will recover though. I always bounce back even it's a slow and painful process.

I Heard a Voice. 

Spectre of the Genie.

Is it wise to revisit the past? Maybe, maybe not. My past never leaves me however much my cousin Cedric says let go. Actually since completing the writing of A Pillar of Impotence in 2005 my ability to stop my past dominating my present has improved. 

Anyway twelve days ago I revisited my darkest past. Reunion is a tricky thing. I have long talked of that darkness in therapy, with trusted friends and a few others. Just not overtly in public. The NHS calls it Adverse Childhood Experiences. That doesn't even come close to the horrors I've witnessed and heard over the last 30 years. 

It was hard that Wednesday and shook me to an extent. Not because I didn't understand my own life but that others are openly talking about what happened, how they'd buried it and then came to the realisation what it really was.

The genie sealed in a bottle for five decades feels like it's finally going to pop out. And that has triggered real mental struggle for me ever since.

Coupled with being physically ill and news that a more recent past is also coming to haunt me I've been a mess.

Yesterday I started to fight back. I cooked for the first time in a week, threw out the rotten consequences of not cooking, did the washing, tidied up and took the rubbish out. My flat is back to normal chaos after being neglected. 

Where I go from here I'm not sure. Today I will lunch at The White Hart, eat roast beef and drink Rioja. Tomorrow I will go to work. Just take it one day at a time.

I Heard a Voice 

Springtime Relaxing.

Greetings on a beautiful sunny spring afternoon. It is about time we had warmth and sun. Soon be dry enough to walk in the woods. 

A couple of weeks have gone by since my last post. Things have been going well. I had that week off. Made it to Borough Market which was fun. I relaxed and mainly switched off. The break was needed. 

Back at work last week and concentrated on my studies. First summative piece is done barring a handful of references. 6 weeks before the deadline. Also been recording supervision which forms another submission later in the year. 

The culinary adventures continue, lots of fine food, good wine and the indulgent things in life.

What happens next week will all be more frenetic, term starts. But I'm confident, thriving and mainly anxiety free. 

Still not had a lot of contact with people though. Rarely does anyone answer the phone, comments too are sparse. The silence from south London goes on eternally. There are still shades of loneliness, of self doubt and of self sabotage. Why do I always feel I'm the reason when in reality it is about others not me?

They will come back when they want something. So be it though. 

Enjoy that sunshine. 

I Heard a Voice. 

A Joyous Easter to All!

Happy Easter all! Whatever Faith, whatever creed I wish you all a joyous day as Christians all over the world celebrate this Holiest of days.

I walked away from religion years ago but I enjoy festivals of all Faiths and the music that goes in the Christian Faith. Good Friday, Holy Saturday and Easter day.

In times past I sang over Easter in Cambridge as a child and in many of the great cathedrals of Europe more recently. I may have paid a price for singing but there are many great memories. 

In my world I am unwinding after a relentless term. Yes I'm on holiday until a week tomorrow. 

Mentally all is well at the moment. Late winter and early spring have brought some darkness and fear but today I'm good. 

I'm listening to Madame Butterfly and cooking roast turkey breast with sage and thyme wrapped in bacon. A smoked salmon starter with English fizz. Two friends will be joining me. English Bacchus to accompany the turkey. Just wish we could see the sun, it's freezing here.

My week off will include a trip to Borough Market. Might even go to Cambridge for a day. I have therapy on Thursday. 

As the world continues on its self destruction remember today is a day of peace. It will be in my small flat in a small town north of London. Happy Easter. 

I Heard a Voice. 

Three Decades and Three Weeks

It is three weeks since I last came on here to write my thoughts to an empty and silent world. I've had things to say but no time to say them.

If you're a regular reader, not many left after fourteen years of writing, you will recall how hard I find anniversaries. This weekend marked three.

Two years ago yesterday an important person walked away from my life. Two years ago another important person started the process of leaving me too. And today marks thirty years since my second and final admission to a psychiatric ward.

Words cannot describe what that feels like. I tried and failed to convey the horror in A Pillar of Impotence. Put simply you wear that badge or you don't. 

Almost everyone from that place is dead. A few years ago a survivor got in touch because she stumbled across this blog. She's disappeared again. I'm left alone with those memories. 

Today I feel flat and lonely despite having a visitor. I seek merely to get through the day. 

Mozart plays and I'm silent with my thoughts. 

Tomorrow life goes on, today is to be endured.

I Heard a Voice. 

What Do You Want?

Had I posted yesterday as I'd hoped you may have seen an angry rant. I was not in a good place and facing something I didn't want to do.

I could and maybe should have cancelled my plans. But I did follow them through and as with all things my anxiety touches it was better than I feared. 

Apparently it's inappropriate to talk about work on here so I can't tell you what happened. But in the stoney silence of the day I got stuck on the thought that people only contact me when they want something. 

Who do I want to be? Normality seems alien. To an extent I face the world alone. No partner, no family of my own. A lot of friends granted but there remains a deafening silence from the one person I want to be with. It's hard when people disappear from the face of the earth for months at a time. 

So on this cold Sunday morning once again I'm alone. I've got yet another cold, I'm tired because I couldn't sleep and my neck hurts.

Life will right itself. Maybe today, maybe tomorrow. It just doesn't feel good to be me today.

I Heard a Voice.

The Harbour's Edge.

It's grey, wet and cold down at the coast. I've escaped to Kent to see a friend. Living just a stone's throw from the harbour. It was beautiful out there last night as I stood at the harbour edge at low tide. Not so inviting today. 

I'm pretty good. Fatigue aside the last vestiges of the flu have gone.

My working life remains incredibly busy but I'm thriving. Half term next week so mainly working from home.

Soon spring will come. Flowers, green leaves, Jersey Royal potatoes, English asparagus. A plethora of joys await us when it warms up.

We are now in the Christian lent season. A time of abstinence and prayer. Not for me, the culinary decadence goes on. Did some beautiful roast pork on Thursday. Have some rabbit in the freezer. 

Tomorrow I journey home. Not going to be easy at King's Cross is closed until Wednesday. Trains are so unreliable at times.

Until next time. 

I Heard a Voice. 

Back to the Fens.

My association with the fenland of East Anglia goes way back to 1978. 46 years in September. Back then I had just turned 9 as I went to boarding school to join the most famous choir in the world. 

Occasionally I wonder what life might have been like had I not taken that path. Even today people erroneously say to me you were sent away at 9. I actually chose to do it.

That decision altered all our lives. We are who we are today partly because of it.

This weekend I've been back in the fens. Yesterday lunchtime I passed through my beloved Cambridge and on to Ely. 

Seeing Miriam and Nigel for my annual Super Bowl pilgrimage has been great. Wonderful home cooking yesterday. Epic Sunday lunch at The Prince Albert today followed by a lovely walk around Ely. And the sun shone on the fens.

Sometimes a change of scenery is needed. I've certainly done that this weekend. 

Tonight I will witness another Super Bowl. Tomorrow I travel home. And Tuesday I go back to reality.

Until next time. 

I Heard a Voice. 

Recovering One Day at a Time

Greetings on a grey but mild Sunday afternoon. I'm slowly recovering from the flu. Really just a cough and immense fatigue left now. Was so tired last night I was in bed by 11.15 pm and slept for 11 hours. 

The last couple of weeks have been a sharp reminder that however life appears to be going we are all vulnerable to microbes. If I'm honest I have not been so sick since having whooping cough in 2014.

I'm reminded too that the human immune system is very powerful but takes time.

The week was mainly okay. Two more days of study, rushing around between sites. Trying to fit everything in. And speaking to the big boss late on Friday afternoon. 

As for the weekend a bus trip to St Albans yesterday. Lovely lunch but all the shops seem to have shut down so nothing worth buying. 

Today brings Haydn opera, my book and later roast chicken. 

Mentally I'm pretty good. Just have to shake off this fatigue. 

Viewing figures on here have been healthy but it seems much of that is bot activity in Singapore. Why any bot would be interested in my musings I have no idea.

Next weekend I'm off to Miriam's. Yes the Super Bowl coming up once again. 

Have good week. 

I Heard a Voice. 

Silence of the Death Rattle Cough.

On this non descript Saturday afternoon in late January I am contemplating what has happened in my life over the past two weeks. I have been sick, really sick.

For almost nine days I felt like death. Boxes of paracetamol were consumed, I froze, I sweated, I barely ate and at night time terrifying paranoid nightmares. 

Now the fever has broken, the dreams have dissipated and the sachets of paracetamol lie unopened. 

All that's left is utter exhaustion and the hack of a death rattle cough. Around me is silence. Not many reached out to me and my social media silence went largely un noticed.

Despite being so ill I should have retired to my bed and asked the doctor for a sick I carried on working for four days this week. Three solid days of online university. My fourth enrolment at a university in my lifetime. Then yesterday trying to play catch up. 

This weekend will come and go, I will improve and spring will keep marching towards us. Roll on the spring!

I Heard a Voice. 

Seasonal Flu.

On this dull Sunday afternoon I feel dreadful. Have done since Tuesday. Banging headache, backache, shivers, fever and sore throat. Add in insomnia and I'm not doing so great. 

I've only truly had flu twice in my life. This feels as bad, definitely worse than covid. Maybe it is flu once again. 

It's beginning to impact mentally too. Loneliness. Isolation. Insidious self doubt. Replaying the wrongs of recent years. Fear. The whole package is there. But will not let it defeat me. Too much at stake.

Staving off the sneezing I write to you whilst listening to Palestrina. One of the first recordings I did. Beautiful but fiendishly difficult to sing the Ave Maria mass is so renaissance Europe. 

The world outside continues to go mad as the conflagration in the Middle East spreads ever wider. People here are polarised. I do not know what to think other than to just focus on what I can control. 

I haven't been out since Friday barring getting paracetamol and takeaway. Somehow I have to be ready to start my fourth university course on Tuesday. This time at the University of East Anglia. Not my choice but will see how it goes. Currently it won't even let me into their system as it doesn't recognise the correct password. I've requested a reset but it has been sent to an email address I cannot access without said password. Not an auspicious start!

Back to today I have to log on to send some work emails, not good when sick, and tie up loose ends. Then I will cook roast lamb. 

Have a great Sunday. 

I Heard a Voice. 

A Little Mozart.

Greetings on a cold January Sunday morning. I'm told it's set to get colder.

Home alone Mozart plays and I'm trying to stay warm. I feel very little today, neither manic nor depressed, neither anxious nor at peace. I just am today. 

The week was long but not without success. There were irritants of course but all jobs have those. I'm making progress one day at a time. 

Much of my surrounding cast have been struck by the latest in a whole series of overlapping cold and viruses. After myself being affected all through autumn I'm relieved that at the moment I am okay. 

As is my wont today will focus on my kitchen. A nectarine salad with feta will be my lunch. Roast beef tonight. I've finally used my tagine our team gave me for my birthday. Twice in fact with great success. Last night was lamb and apricot tagine. 

Later the Rams will play their wild card playoff game against the Lions in Detroit. Too late to watch live but I will watch the recording after work tomorrow. 

Enjoy your Sunday everyone. 

I Heard a Voice. 

A Day of Doubt.

Today has been miserable out. Heavy rain and gusting winds. That was after a New Year's Day full of doubt, overthinking, loneliness and flat mood followed by a night of insomnia. Not a good start.

Those days and nights come to be sometimes. The legacy of all these years of ups, downs and mental illness. On those days I just try to let it play out and learn to fight another day. 

Despite the the storm raging outside I'm in a better place. I popped out to The Waggoners to see off the lovely Helena who is off on her travels. A kind, smiling, intelligent 21 year old she has looked after me on my visits the last few months. 

Back home now in the warm my travels seem long gone. I have travelled extensively in my life, 17 choir tours between 1979 and 1996, travels alone to Holland and Spain, travels with friends and more recently trips with dad. 

Whether I do another trip I do not know. Today it feels too overwhelming. 

I do though recreate the marvellous cuisine of other cultures in my kitchen. People like my cooking. 

On this bleak winter day my adventure is closer to home. Lamb casserole using scrag end is bubbling away slowly on the hob. I believe it's called comfort food.

Tomorrow my holiday ends. The world is moving on its very dangerous way. But each it gets a little lighter. The bulbs will come in a few weeks. Spring will bring back the greenery. And I return to study for the first time since 2015.

I Heard a Voice.