Lest We Forget.

A bitter wind is sweeping across the sunlit land. Here in Hertfordshire autumn is most definitely here. Here too is World Mental Health Day. It also marks 13 years today that my second book Charon's Ferry was published.

Each year someone, or some group, whose identity is unkown announce a theme. This year it is real voices, real change. I've witnessed a lot of change since 1990. In 2026 there are more voices. But are either change or voice real?

Yes and no. So many voices are negative, hostile and angry. But the system also can be negative, hostile and angry. The language we use in service is often beligerent. Engage? Comply? Take responsibility? Institutionalised? These are not terms of compassion, of kindness, of equality. They are words used to reinforce the us and them dynamics of the mental health world.

My current care is compassionate, caring and me centred. But I'm a known figure, with known ideas, a known voice. Does everyone feel the same? I don't think so. The whole of 2026 has taken a real toll on me mentally and physically. The enormity of knock on effect in the mental health community in Hertfordshire was recognised by so many including the Trust. 

Sometimes it feels that my voice is being silenced. But my voice is far more authentic, compromising and dedicated to a shared vision of mental than so many who shout loudest. My voice can be terrifying though which was a recurring theme in my therapy.

Where are the authentic voices? The real voices. There is a danger that they will be drowned out by the words of the angry.

So on World Mental Health Day speak with passion, integrity and humility. Remember so many of my friends did not survive. I remember them too on this day.

Pale Light of an Orange Dawn.

I don't often see the dawn. The powerful sedation of one of my medications meant I once slept through an earthquake and more recently the sirens of 26 fire engines struggling to put out a major blaze just 300 yards from where I was asleep.

Regular readers will know that I get a lot of bad dreams and it was one such dream that woke me to witness the dawn today. Pale, orange, October light. So beautiful.

Sadly the dreams have brought me closer to the darkness of my depression. I do not feel good. During the week I saw my psychiatrist and CPN and was asked about mood. That day I felt okay. Today I do not feel okay. Isolation is not helping. Bar The Waggoners where I lunched and at the chemist I've seen no one all day. I did speak to Jayne.

With the outlook bleak I decided to listen to opera and read. The former was effortless but I struggled with the latter. I am enjoying a glass of Chianti though.

Last night I dined with my judge friend. It was good to see him. He too has been through hell the last few years but even though it's only early days life seems to be righting itself.

I plan to make a cook a cottage pie later. The devil once ate my cottage pie and loved it. I will love it without her tonight. Tomorrow slow roast shoulder of pork.

I Heard a Voice.