A Quarter Century.

Unless like James our administrator at work it is your birthday today you probably have no reason to remember that a quarter century ago a bright warm day greeted Cambridge. Exams were over, the last day of the May Bumps was upon us and "Suicide Sunday" was about to kick off May Week. Yes in Cambridge May Week is in June.

This morning I emerged late from my flat not too far away in Hertfordshire to a bright sunshiny day. I got to work late, met a student, took the afternoon off, had lunch with my friend Kym, laid the outline of a new book project, came home for a glass of Pimm's and watched TV. Nothing life changing happened today.

The same date a quarter century apart. I am not who I was then. Of course I'm not, none of us are. But it is significant in that was the day that my life started to fall apart and my long battle with mental illness began.

Did it really begin then? I think it would have happened anyway. A different place, a different time, a different girl. But the outcome would have been the same.

In years gone by I always relapsed around this day. Today I have not. I will do some time but not today. And that is progress.

Ascot tomorrow, Bucks Fizz at 10 am in The Hedgehog. It could be a long day.

I Heard a Voice.

Sunday Afternoon Perambulation.

My Sunday afternoon walks have been somewhat curtailed of late owing to my toe problems. Feeling okay I decided the brave a walk today. I got home unscathed but hot with the humidity of recent days failing to abate. Actually it was good to get out. Not much in the way of sun but unlike yesterday no sign of rain.

On my return I felt it was time for opera. So once again Mozart graces my Sunday afternoon as I contemplate roasting the beef, making the Yorkshire puddings and parboiling the potatoes.

I have few if any thoughts of the morrow. The quietness of the season seems to sap my motivation as much as the heat of the office. Yet it is a short week again. On Tuesday I will meet with my friend Kym to talk about a possible collaborative book. Yes the 6 months I promised myself when I completed my studies are almost up. I could do with more time really but will get Kym's thoughts and see the lie of the land.

After that Ascot awaits. Josephine is providing all the catering plus champagne so it should be a really special occasion. Let us pray for sun!

I Heard a Voice.

1980s Rewind.

The air is still heavy with humidity out there. If the storm broke last night I didn't hear it although there was evidence of a wet night and a cool light air this morning; it didn't last into the afternoon. I did a bit of a road trip to the butcher, town and The Waggoners before settling down with some 80s sounds that I bought on a cheap compilation CD. God there was some shit in the 80s but also a lot of catchy quirky things that took me back to my school days. I've blogged before about the angst and despair of my teenage years. But it was not all bad.

This weekend is dedicated to cooking and relaxing. My sleep continues to not be the best since I returned from Spain. Months of sleeping and sleeping seem over. Tonight I will have a pork chop marinaded with garlic, sage and rapeseed oil. Tomorrow a rare venture into roast beef with my friends Gary and Ali who are coming round. I had hoped to get forerib but it was a bit beyond my price range. But I did find Barolo on offer so we will have fine wine with our lesser beef.

I'm still recalling snippets of Spain. Today it was the sublime rare pork and tuna tartar that we had in Sergovia. In England no one serves rare pork, we all seem to believe the old wives tale about having to cook pork to death; it is a myth. Then the superb marinaded anchovies and garlic mushrooms we had in Toledo. All in a tiny backstreet bar. We also had morcillo con arroz, blood sausage with rice, but that was not to my taste. Dad liked it though.

I hope the weather improves for Ascot on Wednesday. Linen suit, compulsory tie and Panama hat should be order of the day.

I Heard a Voice.

Thunder is Coming.

Just in the last hour the humidity has shot up, the air is thick with moisture, and the heat unbearable. Soon it will break with thunder in our ears, forks of lightning and deluges of rain. An early summer evening in England. So ends my 2 days back at work.

Home now with a cup of Lapsang Souchong tea, the radio on, the fridge full I contemplate a weekend. Do I do St Albans tomorrow? Or just stay home? Another trip to the splendid butcher? What to do.

That said I feel okay. The last few weeks looking back on here seemed full of anxiety. Now I don't feel anxious. I might even have a glass of Pimm's after my tea. The only thing of which I certain this weekend is that I need sleep. In the meantime my prawns will be consumed in a South East Asia manner which I'm yet to determine; will report back tomorrow after the storm.

I Heard a Voice

A Travelling Reading Room.

Of the many aspects we highlight of holidays is the time it gives me to read. My battle to get time, energy and motivation to read has led me to start, get part way but never finish a number of books over the last few months. My epic quest to complete Seven Pillars of Wisdom is still an ongoing concern owing to the fact it is too fat a book to fit in my pocket. But I did make progress on other books.

Flights and bus journeys can be tedious. Escaping the heat of the day with a beer in a quiet bar. All of these afford me time to read that I never get at home. So during my time in Spain I completed Matthew Fort's marvellous Sweet Honey, Bitter Lemons, and managed to get more than 2/3rds through my friend Jack's book Autogeddon Day. Not a classic but very funny in places and I always like to support my friend's published work. So when that is done I will turn to the books of my other friends Mark and Lexi. Many other books lie unread but with no study going on now maybe time will get easier.

There were no crises at work today. It is the quiet season. A few students want to see me but the pace of life is currently more sedate.

The roast pork of yesterday was very good. The aged ribeye steak today a little less successful. Tomorrow brings prawns, I feel a Thai curry coming on. See you soon.

I Heard a Voice.

Lost and Found in the Country.

After the blazing heat of the high plains of Spain, the streets on Welwyn Garden City early this morning felt positively autumnal. For reasons I don't understand it took me back to September 1988 when having worked all summer I went with mum to Canterbury to buy clothes for Cambridge. Those years in uniform were finally over and a more sedate less regimented life began. I came away with blazer, shades, chinos and various other things. Perhaps it came back today as once again I was in blazer and shades to put dad on the train home. Our stunning trip to Spain is over.

We ate, drank....a lot, met new faces, wondered at the extraordinary beauty of a country so different to ours. As we flew back over England it looked so green compared to what is a dust bowl in places. The heat was little overbearing at times and queueing to check in in sweltering heat at Madrid airport yesterday was not exactly a highlight. But we made it and had a lot of fun.

We breakfasted at Bebo's before I took dad to the station. Finding I had more Euros left that I realised I felt lunch out was justified. So having shopped, the cupboards were bare, I dropped everything off at the flat and headed out in search of The Brockett Arms. I visited once before the first winter I was here in 2007. Since then I have never been able to find it. Having taken a wrong turning and getting lost in the woods I finally found it. What a place. 14th century in origin they have a vast open fire. I must go in the winter.

Back home now Cosi Fan Tutte plays joyously and a large joint of pork shoulder on the bone is slowly roasting away. I will see if anyone wants to come to dinner. Thank goodness I have finally found a butcher.

Tomorrow will be but not yet. Back in the office for the start of the quiet season. Oh well, at least I'm going to Ascot next week.

I Heard a Voice.

Waiting for a Train.

The gloom of an early English summer continues. So cold I have a jumper on indoors and expect any moment that the heavens will open for anther downpour. The Test match looks all but lost. New Zealand have plays some great cricket in this short 2 match series.

In the cold I'm awaiting the arrival of the 4.32 pm from King's Cross. With luck dad will be on it so I'm off to collect him after this. Yes tomorrow our holiday starts. 1.00 pm flight from Luton to Madrid. A 3 hour coach journey awaits, then and only then in Salamanca will I relax.

The day has been one of nerves and tiredness. I had to go into work for a couple of hours to speak at a conference. It was not my best effort and I could really have done without that.

Once dad is here I think supper in Hakalok followed by a beer or 2 in The Hedgehog. I really hope this holiday allows me to relax, been unusually stressed. I also hope and pray that my troublesome toe stays okay at least until we get home. After that whatever treatment is needed so be it.

I doubt I will blog from Spain. So for now goodbye. Back in England on 9th so maybe chat then.

I Heard a Voice.