Shortened Days.

After a week in which I alternated long then short days it was never really my intention that today would be as short as it was. Whilst I feel infinitely better than I did this time a week ago I must have been tired as once again I didn't wake up until lunch time. It wasn't a bad week and last night I went out with the disability team for a delayed Christmas dinner at The Three Horseshoes. Relaxed, affordable and not bad I had a nice evening. No pretensions with them.

With half the day gone I pottered into town. Spent some of my Christmas bonus card on books-Waterstones may see a lot of me in coming weeks-some Ernest Hemingway in A Moveable Feast and Matt Haig's best seller Reasons to Stay Alive. The latter came highly recommended by Ros. Who knows when I will get chance to read them but as the NFL seasons draws towards its finale my available time will increase immeasurably. I did a little shopping but once again failed to make it to the butcher as there was nowhere to park. Back at home I did a little cleaning and now have West Ham on TV-Charlie is at Upton Park. Talking of Charlie he text today to confirm he has got us tickets for Pakistan at Lord's in July.

My culinary delights this evening once again come from the Middle East. Layers of potato, lamb, onions, aubergines and tomatoes doused with a marinade of olive oil, oregano, water and tomato puree. It smells delicious although given past disasters I'm always wary of recipes that require me to cover it in tin foil. We will see. Tomorrow I will roast a chicken and serve with a niceglass of Chardonnay.

After supper I think a film. Do I do The Hundred Foot Journey or Death at a Funeral which Beka gave me for Christmas? I will decide after the lamb. Take care everyone and chat again soon.

I Heard a Voice.

An Arab Touch.

When I began writing my blog back in 2010 the agony that is now Syria had not started. True the Middle East was in turmoil but the Arab Spring was not on anyone's mind and Syria seemed quiet to us over here.

My brief travels to the Middle East took me to Jordan in 1997. It was a life changing experience for me as I fought hard to emerge from a 7 years battle with mental illness. During my ill fated attempt to carve a career in teaching 3 years later I saw an advert for a job in Aleppo in Syria. At that point in my life it seemed most alluring. I had been struck by the "Arabness" and tribalism. Seem to contradict? Maybe, maybe not. I simply don't understand that part of the world. Yet as you all well know my means of culture, of understanding, of sharing and of togetherness is through my love of food and cooking.

Today after a not very long but very tiring day I resisted the overwhelming urge to avoid my kitchen and go out again and opened a book on the food of Lebanon, Syria and Jordan. I adapted it all a bit but lean strips of lamb fillet were marinaded in baharat, garlic, chilli, parsley, coriander and olive oil. These were then seared on a hot griddle and served on a Lebanese salad dressed with lemon juice, olive oil, mint and coriander. The result was stunning. Food can brings peace if only for a little while. That seems to have been forgotten as the world battles with the outcome of the turmoil and agony that engulfs that part of the world.

I am powerless to do anything about that. Today I also felt powerless in my little world. Seeing the tears of someone so low and being able to do nothing to assuage them. Did I do some good today? I don't know. Did I do the best I could? I think so. Tomorrow is another day.

I Heard a Voice.

That Day Again.

Here we are again, that day in which mum lurks in my mind and pops out when I have time to reflect. Earlier I looked back on previous posts marking her birthday. On each occasion I marvelled at how fast time has gone by. Today she would have been 84.

When she was alive I never realised how significant it was when she would tell me the days that would have been my grandparents' birthdays. Nor indeed the anniversaries of their deaths. We only learn that through experience. They say nothing can prepare one for the loss of a parent. "They" are right. My friends James and Georgina are learning that now in the wake of Sue's death.

It is very hard to look back on mum's life and not feel sad at how unhappy she was. Not just in the latter years when her mental state deteriorated but before as well. She never seemed to settle but when things calmed down she had an amazing ability to marvel at the simple beauty that lies in the nature around us. Her garden, her love of birds, and that love of the sea which claimed her in the end.

That beauty outlasts us all but we can glimpse. My travels yesterday took me back to the lake near my old office. Tinged with ice on a cold sunny winter morning nature looked peaceful. There was no sign of the heron but in those short moments in what has been a torrid few months for me I saw that beauty. It was a beauty I learned from mum.

So on this day where ever she may be Happy Birthday to mum.

I Heard a Voice.

Night Time Deception.

My battles with dreams have long been documented on here. In the main things have got much better since I gave up smoking but sometimes they come back. Nightmares are rare now but those mornings when I wake anxious are more prevalent. But the cruellest of all are those nights is when I dream that I can't sleep.

It was one of those nights just as I knew I had to wake up early for the first time in a while. The dream deceiver convinced me that I was tossing and turning unable to go under and so I woke exhausted. Given that the pre emptor of my recent downturn was a true night of tossing and turning and failing to sleep today did not start well.

I made it through the day despite. Yes I'm tired but nowhere near the level of Saturday. Nothing disastrous happened and I wasn't put under pressure. True I failed to cook once again but it wasn't a bad day.

Now I'm thinking of what will be tomorrow for it would have been mum's birthday. I always think of her on that day. Who wouldn't? I will be sad and I will reflect. Again the theme of the living and dead plays large in my mind. Death is part of life and if one can accept that it becomes easier. But when death is sudden and unexpected it is so hard to make sense of. It is true that mum died suddenly nearly 4 years ago. But given how poor her health had been in the last years of her life, coming to terms may have been made easier. And those of us left do the best we can every day. Some days we win, some we don't. But we all go on.

I Heard a Voice.

Flecked With Snow.

When I finally emerged from my flat into a cold night there were small flurries of snow. A regular from The Hedgehog confidently ignored my suggestion and insisted it will not snow. So this morning the ground was covered in an inch or so of snow. It has been a long time since we saw snow in these parts. Nothing too disruptive though, it is melting away to nothing as I write. But it shows me winter is here and here for a while.

After the wipe out that was yesterday I made it up earlier and felt somewhat better. In fact looking back yesterday was a harder day than I realised. My usual Sunday is in full swing. My dreams were marked by subconscious thoughts on what opera to listen to today. In the end Handel's Rodelinda won out. The paper is partially read and the shoulder of pork went in a little while ago for a long slow cook.

What will be of the week? As I feel now manageable I hope. If I feel like yesterday it doesn't bode well for the next stage of my phased return. There is a night out planned for Tuesday, James's leaving dinner. I will not stay long but will attend for a while. My lovely friend Jayne called from Cambridge yesterday and we have arranged for her to visit in a couple of weeks. I will look forward to that. My annual trip to Miriam's for the Super Bowl with Nigel is but 3 weeks away. Then the dark gloom of February and March will battle for my soul and mood, I find those months tough. I will for the time being try to stick to the twin mantras of a day at a time and did I do some good today. I think I did on Friday and then yesterday was a write off. But I will keep trying.

See you in the week.

I Heard a Voice.

That's Enough for Today.

As I feared after my efforts to return to work last week today has been a complete write off. Desperately tired I staggered out of bed at midday, I could so easily have turned over and gone back to sleep, and quickly decided to cancel today. I real really bad for missing Katherine's party but I'm simply not up to it.

The most I achieved today was surviving a busy supermarket and getting my haircut. On a day of nothing I really should return to my kitchen but it is not to be. I've had enough for the day.

So a quiet night of cricket highlights-what a performance by England today- and Inspector Morse. Let us hope tomorrow is better. It will not be long before I'm back in the stress. The plan is to alternate full then part days next week. I need to find some energy from somewhere. Sleep, more sleep.

In my quiet though I will still think of Katherine and Trapper, the living and the dead.

I Heard a Voice.

Staring in the Mirror.

They buried Izzi today. I do not know who "they" are never having met her partner, family or friends. It would have been a challenge to get to an unknown place for the service and who would want to see a stranger whose connection was linked the the darker side of her life? We were drawn together by madness and reflected that in each other. So much makes me think of her and I'm still struggling to acknowledge that she is really gone.

Us "crazies" as she called us stick together and mirror one another. The great challenge of working in my business coming from where I do is how do I react when I see myself reflected in those I treat? So many of us are in the business but we keep it secret. Well I don't but those who train are ordered to stay secret. Many a time with a mental health nursing student, or trainee social worker I have to ask how they will deal with it when they see themselves in the mirror? I was reminded of that by someone I saw earlier in the week. And on this day by Izzi.

Tomorrow we remember Trapper but once again I will do it from afar. For all his battles with MS that ultimately killed him he loved to party. And those that know him will party long and hard tomorrow in a hotel down in Sussex. I will be in London.

Well I will be if energy allows me. I survived a full week of limited days. The price I pay is not enough food, simply haven't been able to bring myself to cook. Tonight it was simply duck salad. I will do more hours next week, will I cope? It has been so long since my working life was normal I still fear a full on return. But it must happen at some point.

James left his job in our department today. I will miss him, he is a lot of fun. No doubt we will meet in The Horse and Groom at some point. I wonder if I will ever get my wish and move on? I've been saying that for nearly 4 years. Sadly life doesn't always go to plan. I must recall the living as well as the dead and march onward serenely or shakily one way or another.

I Heard a Voice.