The Great Celestial Orbs.

As I drove in this morning the winter fog was rapidly burning off as a surprisingly powerful winter sun shone low in the sky. Hard to believe that there is beauty driving along a motorway as the vista opened out to a marvellous sight.

On my way home overland through poor traffic a mighty yellow moon appeared low in the sky lighting and cheering my otherwise frustrating journey. This full moon was far more impressive than those I commented on in October and November. Reminiscent of Paul Simon's wonderful album Graceland "Joseph's face was as black as the night and the pale yellow moon shone in his eyes". Reminds me I must listen to that again.

Instead to the light of the celestial orbs so impressive in this winter time I listened to the great Orlando Gibbons. It was the final recording under the old regime that ended in 1982. Back to my singing. If we were guilty of anything in those days it was over exuberance which sometimes meant the singing was far too sharp. Some of our recordings are very poor. Our Gibbons one is not. We sang that understated relaxed music of post Reformation England quite well. And those verse anthems with the extraordinary alto solos. That such wondrous music could come from such turbulent times.

As it is Wednesday the opera plays at home and my book awaits. I've kind of lost track of days this week. Yesterday I was not at my best. Not quite what I wanted for my friend Mala's leaving party. Although I do not like The Wellington at Welwyn after some awful meals there in the past they surpassed themselves with the food. Let down by the beer though, how can a pub not cater for supplies of ale at Christmas?

The highlight was not the food but rather Mala's beautifully elegant leaving speech. She spoke of each of us in turn without notes and how we had impacted on her life. I came last and felt quite fearful of being that other in that group but I was touched by what she did say despite difference. I will miss her.

What will tomorrow bring? More of today I hope as we move towards the shortest day of the year. That full moon has brightened today considerably.

I Heard a Voice.

A Week Too Late.

The best part of a week had gone since the publication of the review of the restaurant Temper in The Sunday Times by the time I read it. That week's critic was a woman called Lisa Markwell. I've not come across her before. It's not a bad review but for me is eminently forgettable. Forgettable but for the last line. That line read simply "A A Gill is away". As I read last night the great critic, journalist, wit and alcoholic A A Gill was already dead.

He announced a couple of weeks ago what he called "the full English" breakfast of cancer. His final review in the paper was of the magnificent Magpie Cafe in Whitby home of some of the finest fish and chips in the world. I have long admired his brutal honesty and frankness however much it annoys people. Sometimes we need to tell the truth.

I will miss his work in my weekly dabble with the paper. And the world will miss him.

Some weeks ago my friend Mala mentioned something that I think was called the dark side identified by the psychotherapist Carl Jung. Not the dark side of Star Wars fame but the unsaid that people all know is true but never speak about. I'm often guilty of enlightening the dark side with my sometimes cynical and jaded comments on the world I work in. A former friend who was a retired fireman told me they survived the grim reality with a kind of dark and macabre humour. Sometimes I get into trouble for it but many do appreciate it.

That is perhaps the only thing I have in common with the aforementioned critic who moved in very different circles to me.

Back on another Sunday the paper lies unread. Much of its content will talk of this man. I will relish it as he is no more.

Until next time.

I Heard a Voice.

Dark and Dismal.

Not the most enticing of days. Wet, dark and dismal it is the sort of winter day that interests me not at all. The fog of earlier has lifted replaced by fine drizzly rain and gathering gloom. Despite all that I did go out. To the butcher to deliver them some Christmas beer after they looked after me all year. I came out with a pheasant for tomorrow and some pork tenderloin to stir fry with chilli and basil. That was closely followed by an early lunch at The Waggoners, hearty wild boar sausages with green beans and cheesy mash. Just what I needed on this dank day. And finally to town for Christmas shopping and more food. The former was not overly successful aside from something for Beka. Also managed to get some Christmas wine for my friend John who so ably ferries me around throughout the year.

Back home now I'm actually quite pleased with the day despite all the miserable outlook on this weekend so near to Christmas. Another week is down and I survived. My mood is fairly buoyant, probably around plus 2 on my scale. My break is looming and certainly needed.

If I  look back to my posts of late summer and early autumn you will get a glimpse of the fear and anxiety I felt about another academic year. Yet it was wasn't to be. Surprising myself totally it has gone well. Not quite the mini mania of my early years. A year ago I was ready to walk. Now I'm tired but still surfing the crest rather than deluged by the storm that is student mental health.

And with that I will leave you. Perhaps a film is on the cards tonight. Have a good one yourselves.

I Heard a Voice.

Thin Ice.

A thin layer of ice partially traversed the surface of the lake on this bitterly cold day. The pale sun shone but there was little cheer. On my travels I had walked my healthy 10,000 steps per day by about 11.30 this morning. It is good to see the winter as we head closer to the holiday.

Busy summed today up. I did have a cancellation which allowed me to do a little catching up. The last meeting of the day finally shed some light on that tricky subject of extenuation. I hate being asked for evidence letters as suddenly I have people's future in the power of my hands. Not a good place and as it transpires more complex than some had believed before we met. I doubt we will ever resolve that issue but it was good to at least highlight it.

Monday evening brought rare ribeye steak and a glass of claret. Chatted to dad who is not at his best at the moment. Let's hope for an upturn before Christmas. Now it's time to catch up on the late NFL game. I watch far too much really but it only lasts 4 months of the year so I am time limited.

I'm looking forward to my Christmas break. Feel in need of a rest. My very late one yesterday had a bad knock on effect last night. Did not feel rested after taking some time to get to sleep. Must be more disciplined in not overdoing things. Rest a recuperation is long overdue. Just 2 1/2 weeks to go then I'm done. We need to have a rest.

I Heard a Voice.

Sleep, Sleep, Sleep.

Much of today has been devoted to sleeping. I really must try to get to bed earlier of a weekend as gone 2 am is too late. The upshot is I slept the sleep of the dead and failed to emerge until lunch time. It doesn't really matter I suppose but feels a little as if I'm wasting my life away.

Without that precious sleep though my abilities to keep my illness at bay would be severely curtailed. The greatest indicators of relapse are insomnia, not having enough time to catch up and managing my stress. Most of the time I succeed but I can leave nothing to chance.

It's clear but chilly out. My flat is lovely and warm and the smell of pork roasting brings a lot of pleasure. In my folly of too many pints of Doombar in the pub I now have 3 guests coming for dinner. It will all be fun but a lot of clearing and tidying is required to allow us all to sit down. This flat is nowhere near as convenient for entertaining as the legendary No 2 Chapel Street my previous abode back in my days of Kent. All seems a long time ago now.

The new week will no doubt be just as busy as all those that have gone by already but we are near the end. I will have just over 2 weeks for my holiday. Time to sleep, see people, cook, and recuperate. After the marathon that has been this term it is certainly needed.

Enjoy your Sunday everyone. There seem to be a lot of you tuning in to my musings at the moment, viewing figures have been really good.

I Heard a Voice.

Changing of the Guard.

Although I have known for about a week or so I have thus far not commented on the sale of The Hedgehog. It has been on the market for some months now and what looked a done deal a few weeks ago failed at the last hurdle. All went quiet then but behind the scenes a buyer was in the wings. And now the deed is done.

In a changing of the guard Tony and Josephine who have so kindly looked after me for the last years will make way from a South African gentleman called Francois and his wife. I'm told he is a big rugby fan although I'm not sure a shrine to the Springboks will work in wilds of Knightsfield. I approve of the rugby though.

Talking of which England and Australia have just kicked off at Twickenham which will be my afternoon's entertainment.

Thus far today is just another Saturday. Butcher, town, lunch and chilling. Pork will return in slow roast glory tomorrow and for tonight I have some fresh sardines that I'll simply fry with seasoned flour, some potatoes and perhaps a salad of tomatoes and cucumber. In a sop to responsible living rather than my usual decadence I did manage some washing and cleaning today as well. As I said to the young people on Wednesday these dull tasks must be learned and practised even if other things are far more alluring. Jobs must be done. It gives me a minor sense of not being too lazy after all.

Time now to watch the match. See you next time.

Frosted Fields and Glistening Sun.

An icy crunch has greeted me each morning in the car park by my flat and pale winter sunlight glistening in the frosted fields as I set off for work in the early part of this week. It may only be 1st December today but winter came a few days early. My travels haven't taken me to the lake by my old office for a while but I guess it was partially frozen over.

This week is nearly done. It has been one of wonderment, memories, anxiety, small triumphs and a hesitant I told you so. Wonderment at the beauty of winter nature. Memories of 2012 when on consecutive days I had a job interview elsewhere then did my most high profile mental health crisis management effort in my time at the university. The interview failed despite private links suggesting I should have got it. I've never been offered one since. And it doesn't get much more high profile than the Vice Chancellor's office.

It would be great to suggest I have moved on from that week. But I'm still where I am doing what I can. The little triumphs come most weeks. In this case my talk at the school that I had been so apprehensive of went so well. And such helpful people. As for the I told you so moment, people may criticise my sometimes not overwhelmingly endorsing of everyone I see, but in most cases I am dead right to be wary. For all I do to champion the mentally ill some do too little to help themselves then blame anyone but themselves. Giving advice that may not be what people want to hear does not always equate to being a unsupported as some plead. Usually we learn that lesson to our cost, you have to have been burned many times to be as cynical as I am on occasion.

Yet on this cold Thursday evening I'm home and doing okay. I turned to Offenbach today, a purveyor of more comic opera than some that I listen to. Back at school I played-very badly-in the orchestra for a performance of La Belle Helene. Tonight I'm revisiting this fun work.

As it was pay day I was a little overindulgent and bought some books. I don't need either of E M Forster's A Passage to India nor Ken Hom's Complete Chinese Cookbook but in my profligacy I bought them anyway. Catch you all the weekend.

I Heard a Voice.