To Err and to Forgive.

A grey, cold and wet morning greeted me when I woke up. The morning after the day before. It had not been a good day. Someone, somewhere, sometime once wrote "to err is human, to forgive is Divine". I did not feel very divine after yesterday.

We all know those days when all the most challenging people come knocking oblivious to what has happened and needed what they needed now. In my world sometimes I am faced with the darkest of nights. On the bad days life is truly black.

Back in those terrible dark days of the early months of 2018 when dad was so ill and I was facing homelessness my Cambridge friend Harvey gave me some wise advice, "I have learned to forgive myself for the things I get wrong". Given my past and the expectation of a King's chorister, a Cambridge graduate that has always been a battle for me. And with that comes mistrust. My at times brutal career has taught me that.

Late last night having drunk far more than I should to block out the turmoil and memories I turned to my first book A Pillar of Impotence and read the final chapter. That moment of eternal glory rising from the depths of mental illness to defeat death and destruction and be on top of the world. Reading that helped a little stepping back from the mirror I stared into yesterday afternoon.

From the bleak start and anxiety ridden dreams with the help of my friends and colleagues I righted the ship. Every time I get things wrong it feels like I have erred. But can I forgive myself? That is the right of the Divine but I am not that.

By the evening the little mistake I made in the shop leaving an item behind was in its place. So what? That would not have happened yesterday.

Venturing into my private world of cooking I triumphed with a Vietnamese pho, reflected on how foolish I had been and forgave myself for not trusting. People came through for me today. The hard part is just asking for and accepting their help. The world is not always evil. And sometimes it is good to trust.

Until next time.

I Heard a Voice.

They That Go Down to the Sea in Ships.

When will I see the sea again? Walk along the front? Meditate on the shingle? BBQ? Stop for a pint in The Hope Inn? Five weeks into the lockdown the sea seems a memory. Fortunately it is not a dimming memory but something I do miss. Something to strive for to look forward to when the time comes.

People around here are still being pretty good with the restrictions. Yes it took me some time to queue for my medication in the week. There is a little bit of a wait for the shop. Most people are in their gardens or on their balconies. I have my balcony door open and am listening to Handel. Not long back from my walk.

That was the first walk for a few days. A sore calf muscle made me step back from daily exercise. Taking a short route with the least uphill climb I did okay. Maybe stretch out to something longer in the week.

For all of that though I continue to thrive. A glimpse of the crescent moon last night. Glorious sunshine outside. The sounds of the birds. Nature is fighting back in all her glory. And I'm appreciating it all.

My culinary adventures continue to succeed. A fierce Thai jungle curry last night. Wonderful roast chicken today. And new season English asparagus. Spring is indeed mighty. The shops are well stocked. I have food and wine. And opera. And books. And work. That is going well and being without anxiety in the main has greatly helped my mood. The great brake to wondrous times is lifted. And it feels good. Must not let it fly too high though.

The rest of my day will be taken gently. My third opera of the day. A light supper. And I think a glass of white Rioja. Enjoy your Sunday everyone.

I Heard a Voice.

A Voice From the Grave.

A measure of how troubled, disorientated and depressed I was two years ago has just come to light. I've never been the tidiest of people but sorting a few things out yesterday I found two cards. One from Sarah that was open but unused. And an unopened handwritten card. That from Sarah was wishing me well in my new home. Opening the other I found a lovely card from my friend Sheila who lived downstairs. I say lived for sadly she lost her long and courageous fight against cancer a couple of months ago. A voice from the grave.

This reminded me that so much of my past comes in and out of my mind. The thoughts occurred yesterday too that it is exactly 30 years since I met the girl I call Rachel in my books. That stupid, arrogant and deluded time when I thought I was on top of the world. That my life was built on sand quickly became apparent when a mere few months later it all ended mysteriously and without explanation and my madness came like a thief in the night. I believed my own bullshit in those days. Now at times I struggle to know what to believe.

Sitting here today in a small flat in Hertfordshire on a cold overcast day I'm reflective. Reflective but well. My anxiety is nowhere to be seen. Work is going great. I'm stocked with all I need. I'm cooking some great dishes. And I'm as happy as I ever am when not manic.

Last night I caught up with the Selwyn crew via zoom. And what fun that was! Have any of us grown up? Of course we have but we can take a trip down memory lane. Looking forward to our meet next Friday.

This evening I will cook a Thai curry with lemongrass. Tomorrow is slow roast shoulder of lamb. And a day of indulgence.

Remember in these odd times we will get through it. Voices from the grave will come and go. And we will and must live in the present. Until next time.

I Heard a Voice.

English Wine, Roast Turkey and Chocolate.

Rumbling thunder to the west and gentle drizzle marred my afternoon walk. Fearing a biblical downpour I cut short my perambulation and came home.

On this Holiest of days for Christians may I wish you all a very Happy Easter. The day of the resurrection is marked by billions across the world. For others not of a religious persuasion it is a holiday marked by roast dinner, wine and chocolate.

For my part I triumphed with roast turkey seasoned with thyme and sage wrapped in bacon with roast potatoes, kale, carrots and green beans, gravy and local cranberry sauce. The wine was English, it had to be, from the Chapel Down winery just outside Tenterden near dad. And what a glorious lunch it was.

With the holiday set to run into Monday it is good to switch off, turn down and gently relax. My mood is not as buoyant as a few days ago but I'm happy. I like Easter but miss my friends who often come to lunch on this day. As I walked by the shops I did see my neighbour Richard which was nice. So too my neighbour Stephen who I bumped into earlier when I bought my paper.

And now I think another glass of wine, a hot cross bun and a little TV. No doubt I will see you all again soon.

I Heard a Voice.

And Wept.

There were tears. There always are on Good Friday. I defy anyone with compassion and focus not to be thus moved by Lotti's Crucifixus. So too the Miserere. A stunning Renaissance recreation of the darkest day in the Christian calendar on which Christ was crucified. The death of a man, a prophet and to many of us believe the Son of God.

Every Easter between 1980 and 1993 I sang either here or abroad. The lone exception was in 1984 when against my interest, will and desire I was packed off on a French exchange which I loathed from start to finish. The music of Easter stuns me even now.

This afternoon I listened and wept. Not that I am religious but I have emotion, a knowledge of music and an understanding of some of the suffering of the world. Is it any wonder people believe in a Divine whatever or whoever that may be? Hard to explain away death, suffering, plague and pestilence otherwise.

The story of course has a triumphant ending with resurrection on the third day and the salvation of Christians across this chaotic and confusing world. I mischievously lifted the quote from the Creed in A Pillar of Impotence. Passus et Sepultus Est at my breakdown, Et Resurrexit to mark my eventual recovery when I found Risperidone.

For me it is good to have a break. I miss the hot cross buns mum made and the Simnel cake. I'm not a baker. I won't be eating fish tonight as is required on Good Friday, couldn't get any. But my adventures of a culinary nature will go on.

I will miss my Easter lunch when I invite my friends, serve champagne, crab or smoked salmon starters and a glorious roast. Instead I will dine alone on turkey breast seasoned with thyme and wrapped in bacon. A bottle of Sauvignon Blanc is chilling in the fridge. And cheese awaits for dessert.

In all probability I will come on here again to wish you all a Happy Easter on Sunday. Take care and enjoy the sun if you can.

I Heard a Voice.

By Sunlight or by Moonlight?

Given that I'm only allowed out once a day to walk I was left with a stark choice today. Go out in the beautiful sun filled day time or venture to see the full moon under cover of darkness. Musing that there is a need for direct sunlight to stay healthy I chose the former today. And what a lovely day.

I miss the moon but did glimpse it at its zenith partially veiled by wispy clouds through my kitchen window. Last night though I did see it in all its glory if not quite full in the twilight air. Could have done without the youth of today doing their drug deals on the corner down the hill. But I guess that is normal for some.

My mood remains buoyant. Triumphant at times. The working from home is a revelation and although having to deal with some tricky situations this week I think I have done okay.

Now with my door locked, the curtains drawn and the lights on I'm listening to Mozart flute sonatas and reflecting on my culinary endeavours. Still have produce so still cooking. A Thai green chicken curry tonight, one of the best I have done. The scope for interesting things as we approach the long holiday weekend is not quite endless but bountiful treats lie in stall.

I'm thinking about making rendang with my ox cheeks. Hope that will work. Some leftover raw chicken will probably be stir fried in some Chinese way tomorrow. Yes chicken can now be found. Hopefully turkey on Sunday.

You will note how upbeat this post is. Have to try to keep this up in these odd days. The death toll is rising here but not at the rate it was feared. Love him or loath him our prime minister is himself in intensive care. I find it most distasteful that some of my many left wing friends are mocking and attacking a man at his most vulnerable. No one deserves that. My profound wish is that when this crisis is over such aggressive partisan political discourse will be tempered, lessened and diminished by what is a human tragedy. Those who are wise know we must all face this together not at each other's throats.

With that I leave you and return to Mozart and a beer. Do take care.

I Heard a Voice.

Nature's Way.

The glorious spring sunshine continues. The blossom is out. A slight breeze cools the warm air and nature is in its imperious pomp. I saw what looked like a large bird of prey circling above the gardens on the other side of the road from my flat. Mum and dad were great birdwatchers. Miriam and Nigel too. I know nothing of birds but I admired the beauty of the sight.

Having just returned from my walk in the sun the joint of beef is out of the fridge and coming up to room temperature. I've just put Rigoletto on so I get to hear Maria Callas. Maybe some more reading before getting going in the kitchen.

Tomorrow brings the start of Holy Week. Lent seems to have gone in the blink of an eye. Not that I really do anything about Lent but I'm sure in these chastened times many will have been forced to abandon their Lenten promises. Gareth has some turkey breast that I can buy for an Easter Day lunch. Sad really as I always host an Easter lunch for friends with champagne, starters, fine roast meat and a dessert. I think that is what I miss most, cooking for my friends.

Apart from that I'm coping well. Normally an avid news watcher I have seen less in recent weeks as it is all so sullen and depressing. Those of us afflicted by this terrible illness must fight on. Hence sharing my food photos on social media to try to cheer people up.

We must all though abide the advice given. I eschewed a visit to the Farm Shop at Smallford to follow the rules. That people are not as abiding as most of my circle only makes things worse. We will get through this though. So for all of you out there in isolation, take care, manage a day at a time and learn to live even in dark times.

I Heard a Voice