On a surprisingly warm Sunday afternoon I have turned to Beethoven to get me through the hours until I cook. I'm feeling a little washed out after my exertions on Friday. It is a timely reminder that after several months of relative inactivity I will need to pace myself when I start my phased return at work.
I had vaguely thought to invite friends round for roast beef today. But I feel like being on my own today. I need to collect my thoughts for tomorrow's reckoning. Coming to terms with just how long I have been way is hard at times. I've travelled. I've read. I've listened to music. I have seen people. I have shied away from people. I've been terrified. And I've moved house.
Given all that why do I have no sense of achieving anything? The adage that on the bad days it is hard even to get out of bed holds sway but more for others. I'm always forgiving and try to be supportive with the travails of others. But not myself. Ros I need you for that reassuring be kind to yourself phrase that always sounds so much better coming from you than it does from me. I'm never very forgiving of myself. As Harvey very wonderfully pointed out a few weeks ago we need to forgive ourselves for what we do wrong. And I've done plenty wrong both in the near and distant past.
So as I stand on the cusp of going back to my interrupted career where do I see myself? That I suppose is a question for therapists wiser than me. I need to make my own destiny sometimes. And sometimes it is made for me. Seize what is and let go of what isn't.
Out there on cyber-world where you so graciously follow and read my musings I hope you have enjoyed the weekend. If you're in the UK remember there is another Bank Holiday coming soon. Soon too summer will be here. And who knows what that will bring?
I Heard a Voice.
Sunday, 13 May 2018
Saturday, 12 May 2018
A Rainy Festival.
A Food Festival came to town today. And so did the rain. What a shame after the recent good fortune we have had that rain and cold could mar such an occasion. I didn't let it spoil things too much, spent time with friends, had a wonderful smoked German sausage and a pint of local ale. And I got to see my friend Lorna's little girl for the first time.
As we are at the weekend I am reflecting on an odd week. Highs and lows, confusion, joy, enlightenment and disappointment. It was ever thus I suppose. After a poor night's sleep it would be easy to feel all is lost and retreat from the world.
That I will not do though. To warm us all up on this dreary day I'm cooking a chorizo and chickpea stew for my friends. They are still down in town drinking so I suspect they may be red faced and boozy when they get here but I don't mind.
My trip to Cambridge yesterday proved to be a lot of fun. I had to force myself to go through with it though as that waking fear still beguiles and torments me and draws me close to cancelling everything I set out to do. Frank Gardner was an excellent speaker. I sat with my friend Hugh whom I've not seen all year. And I enjoyed Greek food for lunch and Thai food for dinner.
I suspect I will feel a little edgy much of the day tomorrow as that creeping fear of what if will haunt my planned return to campus. For yes on Monday I will go in for the first time since January to see Occupational Health. They did not specify who I will see but I know them all there. My mind is already churning on what will happen once we meet. Will it be back Tuesday? Later in the week? Or indeed the following week? That nagging doubt in the back of my mind whispers that they won't let me back at all. If that happens things could unravel pretty quickly. Why does the anxious mind do that to me?
Before then though is Saturday night with friends followed by Sunday with roast beef. I must focus on the present, here and now. Not worry to what is to come.
I Heard a Voice.
As we are at the weekend I am reflecting on an odd week. Highs and lows, confusion, joy, enlightenment and disappointment. It was ever thus I suppose. After a poor night's sleep it would be easy to feel all is lost and retreat from the world.
That I will not do though. To warm us all up on this dreary day I'm cooking a chorizo and chickpea stew for my friends. They are still down in town drinking so I suspect they may be red faced and boozy when they get here but I don't mind.
My trip to Cambridge yesterday proved to be a lot of fun. I had to force myself to go through with it though as that waking fear still beguiles and torments me and draws me close to cancelling everything I set out to do. Frank Gardner was an excellent speaker. I sat with my friend Hugh whom I've not seen all year. And I enjoyed Greek food for lunch and Thai food for dinner.
I suspect I will feel a little edgy much of the day tomorrow as that creeping fear of what if will haunt my planned return to campus. For yes on Monday I will go in for the first time since January to see Occupational Health. They did not specify who I will see but I know them all there. My mind is already churning on what will happen once we meet. Will it be back Tuesday? Later in the week? Or indeed the following week? That nagging doubt in the back of my mind whispers that they won't let me back at all. If that happens things could unravel pretty quickly. Why does the anxious mind do that to me?
Before then though is Saturday night with friends followed by Sunday with roast beef. I must focus on the present, here and now. Not worry to what is to come.
I Heard a Voice.
Thursday, 10 May 2018
Passing Bluebells, Rising Ferns.
When last I walked in the woods there was a beautiful carpet of bluebells. The sun easily penetrated the canopy. The birds sang. And the joys of nature lifted my life. There is so much beauty that has passed my life by. Why didn't I go there earlier?
Ros was very moved by my woodland post. Back as she is now from her retreat and uplifted by letting go I hope I can match her by spending more time with nature. I had decided yesterday that today I would go for a walk and knew that Gary wanted to join me.
As happens pretty much every morning I woke second guessing any decisions I made the night before. Still I cannot shake that terrible waking anxiety that I cannot do anything. But as I have been trying to do I pushed on through the fear, did my shopping then retired home to make something of the day.
What transpired was utterly restorative and uplifting on a day with such shaky foundations. To Moro East I turned for lunch. A divine salad of orange, watercress and feta with parsley and walnuts. Setting me up to venture forth I met Gary and we headed into the woods.
What was immediately clear was that the time of the bluebells is passing. The bracken had grown since I was last there and the canopy was thickening. And the birds, the birds still sang. We walked all the way to The Waggoners and despite me foolishly going out without any money we spent a glorious couple of hours in the garden talking, supporting, helping and sipping Adnam's Ghostship as the day waned.
When we walked back through the woods it was clear we had done some good after each having a difficult start to the day. I must try to go and get out more.
With evening closing in once again Sam and Sam Clark gave me the inspiration for supper, prawns with sherry, asparagus and saffron migas. An absolute revelation. Not the easiest to do it was certainly worth it. Accompanied by a glass of Albarino I'm now settled for the night with Britten's Peter Grimes and the realisation that it is okay to have good day and not get done all the tedious things I beat myself up with.
Tomorrow I will head to Cambridge. The BBC security correspondent Frank Gardner is delivering a lecture on the Middle East. Whilst I may not always let on on here I am deeply concerned with what is happening in our world and getting sucked into the conflagration that is war. Actually as I stated in Charon's Ferry I believe world war started on 9/11. And all these years later we are edging ever closer to that frontline. I do not want to see blood in the streets of my country or any other. But we will live in dangerous times. I hope when I come home Mr Gardner will have enlightened rather than alarmed me.
See you are the weekend.
I Heard a Voice.
Ros was very moved by my woodland post. Back as she is now from her retreat and uplifted by letting go I hope I can match her by spending more time with nature. I had decided yesterday that today I would go for a walk and knew that Gary wanted to join me.
As happens pretty much every morning I woke second guessing any decisions I made the night before. Still I cannot shake that terrible waking anxiety that I cannot do anything. But as I have been trying to do I pushed on through the fear, did my shopping then retired home to make something of the day.
What transpired was utterly restorative and uplifting on a day with such shaky foundations. To Moro East I turned for lunch. A divine salad of orange, watercress and feta with parsley and walnuts. Setting me up to venture forth I met Gary and we headed into the woods.
What was immediately clear was that the time of the bluebells is passing. The bracken had grown since I was last there and the canopy was thickening. And the birds, the birds still sang. We walked all the way to The Waggoners and despite me foolishly going out without any money we spent a glorious couple of hours in the garden talking, supporting, helping and sipping Adnam's Ghostship as the day waned.
When we walked back through the woods it was clear we had done some good after each having a difficult start to the day. I must try to go and get out more.
With evening closing in once again Sam and Sam Clark gave me the inspiration for supper, prawns with sherry, asparagus and saffron migas. An absolute revelation. Not the easiest to do it was certainly worth it. Accompanied by a glass of Albarino I'm now settled for the night with Britten's Peter Grimes and the realisation that it is okay to have good day and not get done all the tedious things I beat myself up with.
Tomorrow I will head to Cambridge. The BBC security correspondent Frank Gardner is delivering a lecture on the Middle East. Whilst I may not always let on on here I am deeply concerned with what is happening in our world and getting sucked into the conflagration that is war. Actually as I stated in Charon's Ferry I believe world war started on 9/11. And all these years later we are edging ever closer to that frontline. I do not want to see blood in the streets of my country or any other. But we will live in dangerous times. I hope when I come home Mr Gardner will have enlightened rather than alarmed me.
See you are the weekend.
I Heard a Voice.
Tuesday, 8 May 2018
Retracing my Steps.
The last time I visited The Plume of Feathers at Tewin winter still held its icy grip on the world. Bitterly cold, damp and desolate I sat forlornly in the depths of my own despair by a roaring fire and mourned the loneliness and failure of my life. Severe depression is indeed a bleak place to be. As I watched the world that day all seemed hopeless as if that world would move on without me and not care. That was a delusion though. My friends and family somehow dragged me back from the abyss and to some form of recovery.
On this glorious day after a glorious Bank Holiday weekend the world of The Plume of Feathers was far more enticing. It was never my plan to go there but with a friend cancelling our intended coffee I took myself off for a drive in the country intending to stop at The Horns. But the road was closed and rather than follow a detour taking me into the anxious unknown I took to calmer routes. Pretty busy there for a Tuesday and despite the attentions of the wasps I spent a pleasant hour there.
Back at home I'm playing Beethoven and putting off cleaning. Given that I won't be back at work until Tuesday at the earliest I suppose I can give myself a leave it day. There is always tomorrow.
Tomorrow also brings another appointment with the psychologist. The way I feel today it seems like it is unnecessary. But of course I know that is just today and tomorrow may be different.
My plans in the kitchen are a little up in the air. I'm thinking prawn curry but is that wise on such a hot day? Do I care about that? Not really I suppose. As long as it is tasty.
For all of you back to normality have a good week. With luck I will join you soon back in the realms of reality.
I Heard a Voice.
On this glorious day after a glorious Bank Holiday weekend the world of The Plume of Feathers was far more enticing. It was never my plan to go there but with a friend cancelling our intended coffee I took myself off for a drive in the country intending to stop at The Horns. But the road was closed and rather than follow a detour taking me into the anxious unknown I took to calmer routes. Pretty busy there for a Tuesday and despite the attentions of the wasps I spent a pleasant hour there.
Back at home I'm playing Beethoven and putting off cleaning. Given that I won't be back at work until Tuesday at the earliest I suppose I can give myself a leave it day. There is always tomorrow.
Tomorrow also brings another appointment with the psychologist. The way I feel today it seems like it is unnecessary. But of course I know that is just today and tomorrow may be different.
My plans in the kitchen are a little up in the air. I'm thinking prawn curry but is that wise on such a hot day? Do I care about that? Not really I suppose. As long as it is tasty.
For all of you back to normality have a good week. With luck I will join you soon back in the realms of reality.
I Heard a Voice.
Sunday, 6 May 2018
Shorts and Panama.
There are not too many days of year when I emerge in shorts, blinking in the sunlight and settle in a pub garden to enjoy the vestiges of good fortune. The last two days have been such occasions. What a wonderful Bank Holiday weekend. Unencumbered with low mood despite sleeping poorly recently I was able to enjoy rather than feel guilty. Bask rather than wallow. And celebrate not commiserate.
On these days I do not go out in the sun for long but a Panama hat, a class of Pimm's and a good book is a good thing.
Having had my quota of sun I have come home into the cool of my flat, put The Magic Flute on and come to speak to my friends on here. Loads of you seem to be reading at the moment. Dad asked last time I was in Kent if readers go up in dark times. I'm not sure but it feels quite healthy at the moment.
Over the next two days I have to make a decision. An invitation has come to sing back in Cambridge next weekend. A chance to catch up with old friends, dust off the vocal range and have a light supper is on the face of it is enticing. However I'm acutely aware that few if any of my musical compatriots from those days know about my illness and I would have to explain a lot.
Past experience tells me that if I go to such an event my anxiety will be raised to difficult levels. Trying hard as I am to keep such feelings under control my instinct is to decline the offer. If I do though will I regret it?
Another week away from work beckons but I'm optimistic I will be back soon. How I feel about that is mixed. I'm desperate to get structure back in my life and try to do something useful. On the other hand it is pretty daunting after all this time. People have been very patient with me. O that I could be more patient with myself.
In a rare departure from normal Sunday routine I'm not cooking today. Rather I'm going to dinner with my friend Ann. Richard my neighbour introduced us some time ago. She and her friend Joyce dine every Monday at Hakalok. Great company and full of interesting stories she cooks wonderfully well. So armed with a bottle of Malbec I will set forth for an evening of fine food, good company and wondrous stories.
See you all in the week.
I Heard a Voice.
On these days I do not go out in the sun for long but a Panama hat, a class of Pimm's and a good book is a good thing.
Having had my quota of sun I have come home into the cool of my flat, put The Magic Flute on and come to speak to my friends on here. Loads of you seem to be reading at the moment. Dad asked last time I was in Kent if readers go up in dark times. I'm not sure but it feels quite healthy at the moment.
Over the next two days I have to make a decision. An invitation has come to sing back in Cambridge next weekend. A chance to catch up with old friends, dust off the vocal range and have a light supper is on the face of it is enticing. However I'm acutely aware that few if any of my musical compatriots from those days know about my illness and I would have to explain a lot.
Past experience tells me that if I go to such an event my anxiety will be raised to difficult levels. Trying hard as I am to keep such feelings under control my instinct is to decline the offer. If I do though will I regret it?
Another week away from work beckons but I'm optimistic I will be back soon. How I feel about that is mixed. I'm desperate to get structure back in my life and try to do something useful. On the other hand it is pretty daunting after all this time. People have been very patient with me. O that I could be more patient with myself.
In a rare departure from normal Sunday routine I'm not cooking today. Rather I'm going to dinner with my friend Ann. Richard my neighbour introduced us some time ago. She and her friend Joyce dine every Monday at Hakalok. Great company and full of interesting stories she cooks wonderfully well. So armed with a bottle of Malbec I will set forth for an evening of fine food, good company and wondrous stories.
See you all in the week.
I Heard a Voice.
Friday, 4 May 2018
The Perfect Storm
Last night I hosted Sarah for dinner for the first time since I moved. Not sure quite why we haven't sorted anything before now. After a difficult and rather low day things picked up with roast pork, Rioja, Handel and fine company. As I usually do I popped over to The Hedgehog late in the evening for a beer. It was quite busy for a Thursday. Had a brief chat with some friends. One asked me about work so I explained that I'm still waiting for Occupational Health. To this he responded that it was like I had faced the perfect storm. That really struck a chord.
Whilst I beat myself up over self indulgent laziness and perceived arrogance is it any surprise given the events since Christmas that I crashed? I have to accept that it is okay to struggle. And okay to ask for help. The nice GP who has been supporting me in recent months told me a while ago "you have to allow yourself to be the patient". It has been a tough haul and after yesterday I know I'm not completely out the other side.
Sadly the insomnia came back last night. I watched the election for a while then went to bed. But sleep wouldn't come so I got up and watched some more. Last check on the clock was 3 am before I slept. Then a bad dream woke me at 6 am. Not good so feeling a little fragile today.
The day after the election I'm somewhat baffled by the results. I don't really understand local elections as much as national elections but my recollection is invariably the ruling party takes a kicking. But that didn't seem to happen.
My country is very divided. My social media is illuminated by left wing posts from my friends who vote Labour and worship Jeremy Corbyn. People who vote in other ways rarely comment. The shadow of Brexit still hangs over us. I do not know what will happen next.
For all that though I live in a relatively peaceful country where I get a say in what happens. Taking myself off for some window shopping this afternoon I finally managed to catch up with a former student of mine who hails from Greece. I have been meaning to contact her but being away from work I did not have access to her number.
She seemed very pleased to see me and asked if we could meet. Rather surprisingly she told me that she felt Greece was on the brink of war. How scary must that be for the people? That the Middle East is a cauldron of hate and violence has been a given for some time. Turkey has now been sucked in. Is Greece next?
I came away from seeing her feeling valued in a way that I haven't felt for a while. A young woman who values the support I have given her in the past. That rather buoyed my mood. I also realised how lucky we are in my country for the peace that we enjoy.
I Heard a Voice.
Whilst I beat myself up over self indulgent laziness and perceived arrogance is it any surprise given the events since Christmas that I crashed? I have to accept that it is okay to struggle. And okay to ask for help. The nice GP who has been supporting me in recent months told me a while ago "you have to allow yourself to be the patient". It has been a tough haul and after yesterday I know I'm not completely out the other side.
Sadly the insomnia came back last night. I watched the election for a while then went to bed. But sleep wouldn't come so I got up and watched some more. Last check on the clock was 3 am before I slept. Then a bad dream woke me at 6 am. Not good so feeling a little fragile today.
The day after the election I'm somewhat baffled by the results. I don't really understand local elections as much as national elections but my recollection is invariably the ruling party takes a kicking. But that didn't seem to happen.
My country is very divided. My social media is illuminated by left wing posts from my friends who vote Labour and worship Jeremy Corbyn. People who vote in other ways rarely comment. The shadow of Brexit still hangs over us. I do not know what will happen next.
For all that though I live in a relatively peaceful country where I get a say in what happens. Taking myself off for some window shopping this afternoon I finally managed to catch up with a former student of mine who hails from Greece. I have been meaning to contact her but being away from work I did not have access to her number.
She seemed very pleased to see me and asked if we could meet. Rather surprisingly she told me that she felt Greece was on the brink of war. How scary must that be for the people? That the Middle East is a cauldron of hate and violence has been a given for some time. Turkey has now been sucked in. Is Greece next?
I came away from seeing her feeling valued in a way that I haven't felt for a while. A young woman who values the support I have given her in the past. That rather buoyed my mood. I also realised how lucky we are in my country for the peace that we enjoy.
I Heard a Voice.
Wednesday, 2 May 2018
May Day in Town.
I guess it was a good day to be in town. By town I mean London. Given that I have never lived there barring a four month stay in a psychiatric facility in 1994 I don't suppose I should really call it town. But vestiges of English public school have bequeathed me this somewhat pompous view of the great city.
May Day hadn't really crossed my mind except to text a birthday message to my friend Michael. I was heading for Borough Market to meet by cricketing compatriot Charlie for lunch and provision shopping. The crowds were back and the sun shone. It was a beautiful day. As we moved a few yards from The Southwark Tavern to Brindisa we heard the bells and clattering of Morris Dancers and I recalled what day it was. Should have been in Padstow I suppose but Borough on May Day was great.
Wonderful lunch, bacalao, prawns with chilli and garlic, artichokes with jamon, squid and Catalan black sausage and a couple of glasses of ice cold Estrella beer. Add in the great company and it was a splendid start to the day. I bought many things in the market and spent far too much but it made me content.
Little did I realise that travel chaos awaited my journey home. There were no trains out of King's Cross and the whole of the east coast ground to a halt. Salvation came via a circuitous route of St Pancras to St Albans then a number 300 bus to my front door. Took a while but got there in the end. Miriam was not so fortunate coming home from work, it took her 4 1/2 hours.
Waking to pouring rain it seemed once again that the stubborn proclivity of winter to hang on to us had struck again. There was a purpose to today and that was my follow up appointment with the psychologist. Having felt pretty bad about myself the previous time I had a sense of dread. But it was a little better. I'm not tearing myself to pieces as I did a week ago. I'm trying to be measured and see things in a different way.
We're still only at assessment stage. Next week we will decided if there will be a plan and if there is what it shall be.
I'm still uncertain of where this will lead but I know something has to change and maybe this can help that to happen.
Back in the flat Mozart plays on opera night. I have a glass of Albarino. I'm coming to the end of Mary Wesley's The Camomile Lawn and am progressing with Chris Stewart's Driving Over Lemons. My great saviours of opera and books are working tonight. Let's hope that sense of order and calm continues tomorrow and as the week progresses.
I Heard a Voice.
May Day hadn't really crossed my mind except to text a birthday message to my friend Michael. I was heading for Borough Market to meet by cricketing compatriot Charlie for lunch and provision shopping. The crowds were back and the sun shone. It was a beautiful day. As we moved a few yards from The Southwark Tavern to Brindisa we heard the bells and clattering of Morris Dancers and I recalled what day it was. Should have been in Padstow I suppose but Borough on May Day was great.
Wonderful lunch, bacalao, prawns with chilli and garlic, artichokes with jamon, squid and Catalan black sausage and a couple of glasses of ice cold Estrella beer. Add in the great company and it was a splendid start to the day. I bought many things in the market and spent far too much but it made me content.
Little did I realise that travel chaos awaited my journey home. There were no trains out of King's Cross and the whole of the east coast ground to a halt. Salvation came via a circuitous route of St Pancras to St Albans then a number 300 bus to my front door. Took a while but got there in the end. Miriam was not so fortunate coming home from work, it took her 4 1/2 hours.
Waking to pouring rain it seemed once again that the stubborn proclivity of winter to hang on to us had struck again. There was a purpose to today and that was my follow up appointment with the psychologist. Having felt pretty bad about myself the previous time I had a sense of dread. But it was a little better. I'm not tearing myself to pieces as I did a week ago. I'm trying to be measured and see things in a different way.
We're still only at assessment stage. Next week we will decided if there will be a plan and if there is what it shall be.
I'm still uncertain of where this will lead but I know something has to change and maybe this can help that to happen.
Back in the flat Mozart plays on opera night. I have a glass of Albarino. I'm coming to the end of Mary Wesley's The Camomile Lawn and am progressing with Chris Stewart's Driving Over Lemons. My great saviours of opera and books are working tonight. Let's hope that sense of order and calm continues tomorrow and as the week progresses.
I Heard a Voice.
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