The Dream Catcher.

Why have certain cultures throughout history revered dreams? Native American Indians, Aboriginals in Australia and various tribes in South America have incorporated the dream world into their culture. I have no doubts others have too but I am by no means an expert. I remember the first time I was shown a dream Catcher by my friend Helen. It left me with one over riding question, why?

My life has been plagued by bad dreams for years. No doubt the psychotherapist Jung would have had something to say about that but I have always considered psychotherapy a lot of old shit. I don't know why I am plagued by dreams. The last 3 nights have been dreadful with me woken several times in the night. I can understand that some dreams are about our anxieties in waking life. But at the moment I have little on my mind. I wish they would go away. It leads me to feel as if I haven't slept in the morning.

So what of the waking hours? I am back home in Hertfordshire. The dinner with Beka and Anne went well as did the funeral on Tuesday. There is but one thing that is good about funerals-catching up with those I haven't seen for a while. I had very good journey back and had a a couple of days on complete relaxation lined up.

But it was not be. My fellow blogger Izzi phoned on Wednesday evening asking if I could proof read her PhD which she has to submit on Monday. So all afternoon yesterday I stared at my computer screen and read. 2 files down and 3 to go. Why does the world never go to plan?

On another note I am finally getting some thoughts on "Charon's Ferry". My friend Marie came to visit at the weekend and spent nearly 7 hours solidly reading on Saturday. She had finished by Tuesday and described it as "bloody brilliant". Another friend Jacqueline is hooked and promises to comment as soon as she can. I guess that is all good news.

So back to now, the next file beckons. I will start now and only stop for Singapore noodles for lunch. I will let you know when I come up for air on another cold, dank and wet day. Whatever happened to summer?

I Heard a Voice.

The Garden of England.

For those of you who read my blog abroad you may not know that Kent where my family has lived for the last 33 years is known as the Garden of England. Famous for growing so many things as apples, cobnuts and hops, produce that has driven the fading British food culture for centuries. Actually cobnuts have more or less died out recently but they are still to be found in these parts. And of course the hops, the staple of ale. It seems very strange to me that I have only really started drinking real ale since last year. Kent boasts the oldest brewery in Britain, Shepherd Neame at Faversham.

So why mention Kent today? Well I'm down visiting my dad. I haven't seen him since mum's funeral. Sadly it is another funeral that draws us together at this time, that of an old friend known to both of us. Yes the deaths keep happening. In total since my last descent into my madness at the end of February I have lost 6 people.

But it is not all bad. It is great to see people and we're having friends round for dinner. My mum invited people around occasionally but her overwhelming anxiety she experienced in her last years often made these events rather traumatic for her. Today has been more relaxed than that.

I'm using local belly pork although done in a Spanish way, local cabbage and carrots for a magnificent Middle Eastern version of coleslaw flavoured with cumin and lemon, and then local strawberries after. To start I bought some top quality Spanish jamon and chorizo along with some olives and hummous-a true Mediterranean theme here in the outer recesses of East Kent. I very much hope Beka and her mum enjoy themselves. And of course my dad.

I'm off for now, more soon.

I Heard a Voice.

Saying Goodbye.

It is 4.34 pm British Summer Time on 16th June 2012. It is a day of memories. I had planned to blog last night but it was too late, I was too tired and it had been too long a day. The day had been spent in Cambridge with my Malaysian friend Joey and 2 others. But my mind was not entirely on that day. It was back 22 years before in the very same place. Cambridge my home.

When I got home last night my mind was still on the past. On that day I had been at a Cambridge May Ball with 4 women. 3 I knew well, the other, the girl from Alabama was new to me. As we emerged into glorious sunlight the next day, the girl from Alabama and me, neither of us knew the cataclysmic earthquake that was about to engulf my life. For it was that morning that my madness struck in all its brutality on an unsuspecting fool. That fool was me. She was an unwitting witness.

That was the day my long journey started. Today that journey is over, the book is written and raved about and the new book, the what happened next book is currently captivating my friend on this quiet Saturday afternoon. Yesterday was a day to say goodbye, goodbye to Joey, and goodbye to those demons. Will they ever leave me completely? I doubt.

Joey flies home to Malaysia for good tomorrow. I doubt we shall meet again but she has enriched my life for the last 2 years. I am lucky to have such good friends.

Back in the reality of my life, England are being thumped in the rugby, my curry is marinading and I'm thinking of going to Kent tomorrow. I have not bee since my mum's funeral. Sadly I have to go to another one on Tuesday; another goodbye to my past.

Time for Tea.

Greetings to you who are left in my blogland. After 3 record breaking months of viewing, everyone seems to have disappeared. It is very strange that when the shit hits the fan as it did for me a few months ago, viewing figures increase enormously. Now I'm well people have vanished. My fellow blogger Izzi finds the same thing. But never mind.

It has been a quiet dull day after a not so good week. I came home yesterday exhausted, disillusioned and incredibly flat. Not depressed but utterly uninspired. The days of rain continue although I am pleased some cricket is being played at Edgebaston after 2 days of washout.

I have turned to domestic things today, shopping, washing, and of course cooking. When my mum was alive we differed radically in how we cooked. She could never work out why I didn't measure anything. She always went to the letter. She was also of  the generation that thought we would all die unless everything was cooked to death. The last Christmas I spent with her in 2010 she cooked a crown of turkey for 11 hours-not my way. She would have shivers at how rare my beef is. But that is how I like it.

She was very good at some things. For a woman who hated mince she did a mean Shepherd's pie. It is that that made me think of her today. I have spent the last 40 minutes or so constructing a Shepherd's pie. It will cook for another 40 minutes later but I can guarantee it won't be as good as hers.

Tonight I still plan to replenish with precious sleep. This week was marred by the deaths of 2 friends. It will lead me back to Kent the week after next. I have seen way too many people die for a 42 year old. But that is the darkest side of the dark world of madness on whose boundaries I still tarry. I will never be free from that.

For now though I rest and drink Darjeeling tea-another of those curious English habits. It is a very good one.

I Heard a Voice.

All at Sea Today.

Well, it's 5 pm and I'm utterly fed up of today already. I have been cold, tired, and irritable ever since I got up but I don't know why. My mood is around 0 maybe a little lower. The plan I thought we had for today has been changed by someone who didn't bother to tell me. Not exactly happy!

Looking out of the window there is nothing to cheer the mind or the soul. It is wet, grey, and cold. With life in limbo I can't settle on a course of action. I would like to cook but I have nothing to cook as I was supposed to be going out tonight.

Perhaps it would have been better had I been at work. At least then I would not have the jubilee rammed down my throat for 4 consecutive days. Surely something else is going on in the world? I do actually quite like the queen but I'm getting very bored of it now.

Let's hope tomorrow picks up. I have to run a training course which is usually quite fun but I don't really feel up for at the moment. But for now I sit, wait, and smoulder on the arrogance of someone else's mind and desire-I'm not good at letting other dictate my life-had too many years of that in the Psychiatric System.

I Heard a Voice.

It Is Possible to BBQ in the Rain!

God what an awful day! Cold, wet and horrible, it must be a Bank Holiday. We are after all English so it has to piss down on our parade. I was supposed to be BBQing at the Hedgehog today.

After a very bad night of nightmares full of people from my past I woke up feeling tired and shitty. Then I looked out the window-it looked terrible. But not one to shy away from cooking I went to the pub for the aforementioned BBQ. For the first hour and a half we cooked one burger. We of course kept ourselves full with the odd kebab. But then something strange happened. People started coming out for food. Kebabs went well in the end especially the chicken tikka ones. Almost sold out when I left.

I am now home. Had a bath and now watching news rerun on the events in London today. Who cares about the rain-we got through! Now for beer.

I Heard a Voice.

The Award That Wasn't!

Well, it's the morning after the night before. I didn't win the award I was shortlisted for. It left a room of rather surprised people but perhaps not me. I didn't really know if I had a chance not. But the comments of others were interesting with the university placing more credence on a Lab Technician that someone who works with the most vulnerable students doing what is at times a life and death job.

That may all sound very arrogant but it is more reference to another failed award attempt. I was delighted that our out of hours housing team were nominated. They are in the main students who volunteer and work right through the night. It is not me that gets the calls at 3 am when a mental health crisis hits. I just pick up the pieces the next day. They are the ones who do the difficult stuff and respond to emergencies. Very pissed off they didn't win, losing out to an academic bureaucrat.

But enough of that, it is a long weekend. Sadly the sun appears to have gone elsewhere but maybe it will reappear. Now that I have finished writing the book I have way too much time on my hands. There is only really cooking left. Having fought my way through the crowds in Waitrose-there was nowhere to park either-I was most pleased to find some strips of belly pork. Cheap and easy I will turn them into a Thai curry tonight and doing the rest on Monday in the form of the legendary Twice Cooked Szechuan pork. If you have never had it you must try it!

Tomorrow I am cooking kebabs on a BBQ at the Hedgehog. Forecast is awful but let's hope for the best. I have to head over there in a bit to chop and marinade the chicken. 3 different types, Chinese ones with black beans and chilli, Moroccan ones like I did for work last week and some chicken tikka for the rest. If you believe my friends in the pub my chicken tikki far outstrips that of any restaurant-high but undeserved praise!