So What Next?

Little has changed with my most recent malady since I posted yesterday. My voice is a guteral and sore bass, the cough continues and on any given moment I almost expect to launch forth in another sneezing fit. Not good. Waking around 7.00 am it was clear I was no use to man nor beast so I called in and announced my absence. I was in bed all morning in the end.

When I finally emerged a brief foray brought lunch and something to cook later. Will the iron in my piece of liver hasten a recovery enough for Wednesday? I sincerely hope so.

For now though at least I'm in the warm, a recording of Mendelssohn's Elijah is on the radio and I made a little progress on my reading. I managed to complete Graham Greene's Our Man in Havana on Saturday. Looking at my pile of unread books I chose D H Lawrence's The Plumed Serpent as my next classic author adventure. Who said education finished at school and university? My literary education continues each and every week as I seek respite from the demands of daily life and incessant staring at screens.

My mood has been surprising unaffected by this cold and the frustration that brings. Once again my mood diary is far behind my present so need to attend to that at some point. My GP was most pleased with how things are going mentally when we met a few weeks ago. There is little time left before I can rest and recharge. As they say touch wood for luck but I have nearly made it through the gruelling opening term of year 10. Oh how the University has changed in that time. I sometimes have a fond nostalgia for what once was. But it truth each and every year has brought its share of immense challenge and rocky nerves. But I'm still there. And cold aside going strong.

I Heard a Voice.

Match Abandoned.

I had been really looking forward to singing "Lo He Comes With Clouds Descending" at the church of St Francis of Assisi on the Parkway this evening. Not sung that epic hymn since Ledger's funeral in December 2012. But it was not to be. After a difficult coughing and spluttering night I decided to abandon my plan for the day forego the Advent Carol Service.

In truth if I'm going to appear at Stanborough School on Wednesday I need to husband what is left of my voice. Although it is only a cold and nothing worse I feel pretty poor and have little or no motivation to do much. Of course I have to eat and after some consideration to the contrary I took the plunge and did make my lunch time booking at The White Hart. The roast beef was so pink Beka would have been delighted by it. And she knows all about good beef.

Back at home I listened to our 1979 recording of the Procession and Carols for Advent Sunday. But now what? Not got much energy left so I think I will just root myself on the sofa and stare at the TV for a few hours. They have a Rick Stein day on the Food Channel so that is good and the NFL awaits later.

And what of tomorrow? If I feel as I do now I'm staying home. Let us hope that occasion doesn't transpire.

I Heard a Voice.

A Lost Voice.

Given that my work involves a lot of talking, I'm going to an Advent Carol Service tomorrow and am doing as presentation in a school on Wednesday now is not really the time to be losing my voice. Sadly that is precisely what has happened. A night of sleep interrupted several times by incessant sneezing was not a good a sign in the early hours of Friday morning.

Come Saturday my throat was sore, my voice had dropped an octave or so and the sneezing intensified it is not going well. It is just a cold and I don't feel ill but the timing could seriously have been better.

On the plus side it is the weekend, I'm indoors out of the cold, I have a Chinese braised beef dish with garlic underway from Yan Kit So and I don't have to get up in the morning. Britten's opera Billy Budd is on the radio at 5.45 so a night of culture awaits. Not an opera I have ever heard.

Last night brought some old memories as Rick Stein visited Cadiz. A rather crumbling city when I visited in 1993 to sing. It was still in the bad days of my illness but I recall the nets catching falling masonry in the cathedral, seafood so fresh is was still alive, chronic sunburn on the windy Sunday afternoon beach break and a long journey home. There were not many Brits there in those days. I wonder if Mr Stein's visit changes that.

I will leave you on this chilly night with the thought that Christmas Eve is but four weeks away, the shops are crowded and there is still so much to do. But I will stay warm, rest my voice and indulge in a little escapism for a weekend.

Hot as Hades.

I returned to my love of Thai food tonight. I don't really know any Thai people so their legendary capacity to eat chillies hot as Hades has never been witnessed first hand by me. But by God was tonight's chilli hot! I suspect it burned as it was a raw garnish rather than battered in a paste or cooked over high heat. But I was burning and made the mistake of rubbing my eye. Won't be doing that again in a hurry.

Being Wednesday my evening has just been lit up by the Queen of the Night from The Magic Flute. The last couple of days as I have been on my travels it has been the music of William Byrd and his 16th century peers both from post reformation England but also Catholic Spain and Italy. Not that Italy really existed then but the greatness of Palestrina represented that part of Europe. Are my attempts at culture mere add ons to my chaotic life? If nothing else it gives me an escape.

The demands of daily expectation have been just that in recent weeks, demanding. Every time I try to carve some space the phone rings, a vital e mail comes in and yet more people line up to seek my advice. It is at those times of uncertainty that my self belief can waver and my anxiety start to fight me.

But with 3 1/2 weeks to go I'm still fighting back rather than falling apart. In the main I am in control. Having that keeps me from the ravages of my old madness. So the culture both visual, aural and taste play their part. It can be a good life if we can hang onto those precious things.

I Heard a Voice.

The Brave and Foolhardy.

Gazing out on another bleak day I see nothing that will entice me away from the warmth of my flat. A night of heavy rain and continuous morning drizzle has left the outside world only to the brave and foolhardy.

I woke a little earlier today after yet another night staying up too late. Had a lovely evening with Jo in the curry house then met some new friends in the pub. How quickly this weekend has gone. A light lunch of pork pie and salad was sufficient to sate my hunger along with a very sweet pear. I'm looking forward to what I hope will be very rare beef later. I invited Richard along to join me. So an evening of good food and fine wine looks on the cards.

Thus far I have avoided looking at my diary for the week. Off the top of my head I may have some breathing space then but those windows for catch up do seem to close oh so quickly. I have my talk at a local school coming up a week on Wednesday. Must carve out some time to prepare for that.

In the meantime, music illuminates this dull afternoon, Don Giovanni at the moment. Might perhaps move onto Handel later. I'm in for the duration now, the hours ticking by until that dreaded moment of the alarm going off and another week beginning.

Will see you all in the week.

I Heard a Voice.

Don't Shout at Me!

The latter part of this week seemed to have been defined by semi hostile communication. A number of communications served to irritate me. It is so unnecessary to send hostile or aggressive e mails and troubled calls. It is fine to advise me if it is in my power to sort a problem out. But I don't respond well to being metaphorically shouted at.

This all left me somewhat on edge last night which rather dampened an otherwise splendid evening. Lots of friends out and about last night. Lots of beer, lots of laughter and lots of re-connections. I must have been tired after that as I woke up very late.

Not much unusual to report on a quiet Saturday. My fridge is restocked, the cleaning is done, the rugby is on and I'm thinking about tea. Tonight I'm off to The Neem Tree with my friend Jo. Some time since I saw her so looking forward to that.

Tomorrow brings rare roast beef, a glass of Rioja, some reading and a switch off day. Scary that we are getting so close to Christmas. The good news though is that despite the late week hostility I'm still going well and staying clear of last year's meltdown. Let us hope in these final weeks of term I can remain riding the crest of the wave rather than being deluged and drowned by it.

I Heard a Voice.

Werewolves and Lunatics.

The power of the moon has been observed, celebrated, revered and written about by science and folklore for thousands of years. I'm not sure science is any more correct about that awesome power than folklore. Stories of men turning in wolves and lunatics howling at the full moon seem just that, tall stories.

Yet after a typically dull, grey, damp November day the clouds have given way to the celestial illumination of a Supermoon tonight. The press tells me the moon is closer to the earth than at any time since 1948.

The strange thing is for all my love of yet scepticism for folklore I can report that people I have met who really are at their worst at full moon. Can science provide an answer to wild mood swings and literal lunacy on these days? Plenty I know swear that is the case.

In what passes for my career today at least I have not seen any extra evidence of that impacting on those who came through my office. But who am I to say.

What I do believe, for what it is worth, is that my 26 years psychiatric history is it is by no means a science and provides no more legitimate reasons for this phenomenon than folklore does.

A beautiful illuminated night is a thing of wonder. I'm glad the clouds parted and allowed me to witness the awesome power of bodies way beyond my understanding.

I Heard a Voice