A Triumphant Goose!

Well, we had lunch! The goose was a mighty triumph and not too much stress either. A brother sister combination did the trick. Now time for the pudding. We miss mum but I'm sure she is looking down on us now.

To all my loyal readers Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

I Heard a Voice.

"Charon's Ferry" is Published.

Greetings all from a very wet and windy Kent. I drove down this morning through spray and driving rain to make it unscathed in remarkably quick time. I will be staying with my dad until Friday next week so another culinary adventure has begun.

Anyway, on a slightly different note it is exactly 3 years barring a single day since the ebook of "A Pillar of Impotence" came out. Well today, the sequel "Charon's Ferry" was published in the same format. So if any of you are interested and have ereaders-it won't be out for Kindle until next week- check out the link below:

http://chipmunkapublishing.co.uk/shop/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=3&products_id=2316

It seems strange that once again I am in print. I never thought or planned to write another book but the views of friends persuaded me otherwise. Now let's hope someone buys it!

More soon.

I Heard a Voice.

A Simple Lunch.

It is good to be away from the melee of work. Day 3 of my holiday and my mood seems to be better. I was low yesterday but with an extra risperidone parity has been restored. I'm now in the countdown to Christmas.

Task of the week has been completed-the proofs of "Charon's Ferry" are back with the publisher and the ebook should be out this week. I'm running down my stocks of food as I'm off to see my dad tomorrow. This has what led me to a simple lunch of scrambled egg on toast. It is possible to do simple things well a fact that mum sometimes struggled to grasp towards the end of her life. Talking of mum she came to me in my dreams once again as we face the first Christmas without her.

I'm actually looking forward to Christmas. I'm going down early to help sort things out food wise. Dad is currently struggling to get through cards-mum was prolific card sender so it is all a bit overwhelming for him.

When I get back on here is anyone's guess. I'll see what I can do when I'm away. What I do know for certain is that once the link for the book is with me I will share it with all you people out there might have e readers. Bye for now.

I Heard a Voice.

The Haven of Dry Land.

Well, after 6 weeks of being buffeted by the waves of a storm of madness, the ship that is me has finally hit dry land. I am on holiday. It has in truth been carnage and did not stop even up to today. I'm getting too old for this shit. But it still gives me a buzz.

In complete contradiction I remain unhappy and want to leave. The most confusing thing is I have no idea how to fill in my precious mood diary. Yes the one that monitors the slings and arrows of living with a mood disorder.

My good friend Brian is composer. Actually he is not just a composer, he is bordering on genius. He also like so many of my friends has bipolar. He and the blogger Izzi have both tried to explain what they call a mixed state-to be manic and depressed at the same time.

Whilst I do not have diagnosis of bipolar there are more than a few people, Brian and Izzi included, who think that is the best description of my life. I am not worthy to make diagnoses-I don't get paid enough-but given my current confusion I need to think of something.

A 3rd friend Heather, asked me in the week if I was manic-and she knows. Well I am but I'm not, Brian and Izzi's description best fits how I feel. Problem is I have never felt like this before so I don't know what I'm doing. But I have increased my risperidone.

And what of my holiday? I'm off to see dad on Thursday staying down to the following Friday. On Monday I must visit my dying friend in hosptial-there comes death in my life again. That aside though I have a mission for the first few days:

I have the proofs of "Charon's Ferry", time for a final edit. With luck for all you e readers out there you could be able to buy it next week. I will put up the link.

Bye for now.

I Heard a Voice.

The Finest Singing Congregation Ever?

Have any of you out there in blogland ever been arrogant enough to imagine your own funeral? I have been that arrogant at times. Although back in the days of my madness arrogance was not to the fore in my view despite the protestations of the shrinks. The key question of course is would anyone turn up? Then there is the music. Back then I doubted anyone would turn up as it appeared no one cared. Today perhaps it would be a different story.

On the eve of my mum's funeral my dad was fretting that no one would come. In the end there were way too many people, well at least for catering purposes. Mum would have been surprised but unless she knows something I don't-which she may well do now-she would not have seen it. Would I want to see my own funeral? In my arrogance yes.

I would hope there would be a choir but they cost money. And the hymns? I would want the spine tingling "Lo He Comes With Clouds Descending". I recorded that in my very first recording in December 1979. I never thought I would sing it again after I left. But I was wrong.

Yesterday after much soul searching, pressure, and deliberation I did make the long journey to the Cotswolds to bury another part of my past. It was a long day, I drank too much but I got to sing that epic hymn. And sing we did. I hazard a guess but it must have been one of the finest singing congregations ever assembled.

I don't think I am important enough to warrant a choir when I die let alone be mighty enough to hear that mighty hymn.

I have been composing this blog since yesterday. Just before I came to write I learned of another death. One of the 2 priests who officiated whom I have known for 35 years and whose son was in my class at school got home from the funeral and promptly dropped dead himself. It has indeed been a dark few days for that famous choir.

That choir scarred me in my later life. Judging by what others had to say they had been too. We must all bury our pasts but move on to the future too. I know not what that holds but I am gladdened that I am not alone on feeling that strange life of then even 30 years later.

I Heard a Voice.

Mauling the All Blacks.

In the autumn of 1978 I had been in my new life in Cambridge but a few weeks when the All Blacks came to town. Yes the mighty New Zealand rugby team was touring and one of their stop off points was at Grange Road Cambridge to play the university. My school was and still is just over the road. I watched standing atop a wall that just about gave an overview of the action. In the evening the All Blacks came to the school for a Maori Feast. We didn't get any food but meeting them was amazing for a 9 year old.

I have followed England rugby team most of my life. In that time victories over the All Blacks have been rare occurrences. Cue yesterday and we witnessed history again at Twickenham. Bit this was different, England didn't just beat the All Blacks they utterly destroyed them. It was a record score and dominant mauling of one of finest rugby sides of all time. Couple that with West Ham's 3-1 win over Chelsea it has been a fine sporting weekend for me. Now let's hope the Rams can humble the 49ers tonight and it will be complete.

It has very much the feel today of the day after. I think I am recovered from the drama of Friday although inevitably it will be me who follows up at the hospital tomorrow. Yes tomorrow, the day in which I may know more of my future one way or another.

And another quiet Sunday for me before the next storm. I have amused myself with Puccini, reading, and trying to stay warm. In the oven a half shoulder of lamb is slowly roasting. I have half of bottle of Chilean red left over from last night-the stew was a triumph by the way. The Rat Pack night was great too although I left well before it finished-I must be getting old!

I Heard a Voice.

Kick off on High.

Yesterday dawned cold and bright in my part of Hertfordshire. Had everything gone to plan I would have had a quiet day and caught up on my long awaited paperwork. But it was not to be. At 11 am I had to deal with mania. Having passed the buck, something I should have learned to do a long time ago I went for lunch at 12.30 pm. Yet I never made it. Crisis had struck again. It would be 9.50 pm before I was finally able to stand down.

Crises are what I do. It is not always me as I'm not always there. So what was different with this crisis? Well it directly affected those at the highest levels of the university. The same people who had been led to believe that it is not me who makes the tough decision.

Who was it advising young inexperienced Doctor who had never been involved in a Mental Health Act Assessment? Who was it who advised the police that they needed to take over after a long standoff? I guess you know the answer to that-me! But of course I don't make those decisions. So where were those who claimed to do so? Nowhere to be seen. Whether anyone takes any notice is debatable.

More importantly than me, what of the student? Terrified and confused he is now in a safe place. But his screams remain in my head. It is a frightening experience seeing someone who is terrified being deprived of his liberty. Yet that is sometimes what I have to do.

Today have been recuperate day. I'm shattered but am watching West Ham-they just went 2-1 up-and can contemplate the Spanish beef stew I will be cooking later in white wine with bay and garlic. Then it is time to put my dinner jacket on for the Rat Pack night in the pub.

I Heard a Voice.