Sunlit Walk in the Woods.

Hail and salutations on this beautiful day. It is still February so not as warm as it looks but it has been glorious. You find me on this Sunday afternoon listening to Puccini and just being. In truth it has a been a tumultuous couple of weeks since I was on here but today I feel good.

This was not the case to start the weekend. Going 24 hours without nicotine unexpectedly was brutal. It once again proved my distrust on things on line when my vape broke and the back up simply did not work. I can ask in a shop, I can't on line. Add in the stress of going to an unknown place for my vaccination then finding I had made an error in the booking and being turned away is it any wonder I was climbing the walls? Further added to that was a very intense work fortnight, mood teetering and touching mania and an utter inability to get out of bed it has been a difficult time.

Sitting here today though that all seems behind me. Well at least until I switch on my laptop in the morning. Taking advantage earlier on of the sunshine and less wet conditions I had a marvellous walk in the woods. The first time I have done the route Sarah showed me since the autumn. It was wonderful.

The day will continue in a sublime way with roast breast of turkey seasoned with thyme and sage then wrapped in bacon, roast potatoes, carrots, runner beans and purple sprouting broccoli and a bottle of Chardonnay. Perhaps a third opera of the day and hopefully a video call to dad.

With all that going on it seemed only sensible to heed the urging of my colleagues and take some time off. So the week of dad's birthday I will sleep late, be cultured and generally recuperate. Spring is here and we now seem to have some light at the end of the dark tunnel I have been in since effectively being locked down in November. I will get my first jab next week. I will enjoy the lighter days. I will continue to be civilised. And before too long I will see my friends once again.

Take care out there.

I Heard a Voice.

Shadowy Dreaming.

Today I do not feel well. Actually things have not been right since the holidays. Recurrent stomach problems that I thought I had beaten returned today. Add in a sore throat and shakiness it seemed only sensible not to work today.

As so often happens when not well the shadowy dark dreams returned and all my fears and anxieties haunted me as I lay half asleep and shivering in bed this morning.

Funnily enough I had long chat with my friend Nikki last night which started with her relaying a dream she had of the two of us. It always disturbs me when people say they dream of me. I simply don't think I am important enough. We talked a lot about mental illness. Long diagnosed as having bipolar the illness has cost her a great deal. I think we both know that had we not met a darker outcome might have ensued. But we're both still standing even if I'm a little lame at the moment.

I always feel drained when illness strikes and the dreams come back. I did force myself to eat lunch but I can't be bothered to make batter for pancake today. Tomorrow will be Ash Wednesday and I will listen to our 1983 recording of Allegri's Miserere. 

Hopefully I will feel better then. Have too much to do to be laid up at home. For the rest of today though I doubt I'll venture far from the sofa and just try to work my way through things.

I Heard a Voice. 

Taking the Punches.

Sometimes the blows come from an unexpected place. On the Sunday after an at times difficult week I'm no longer reeling but I am anxious for the morrow.

My world can be pretty brutal on both sides of the fence. That I was so angry in my 20s and made life a misery for those trying to treat me is a source of regret and shame now. I would not have wanted to treat me back then.

Since then I have tried to bridge the gap between them and us. We can all feel pretty battered and bruised. The hardest part though is when the blows come from such an unexpected source. I always think I can work my students out pretty quickly but apparently on Thursday I was wrong. Time will tell the fall out but it didn't make me feel very good about myself or secure.

In fact much of the week was a challenge. Waking after troubled post Super Bowl broken sleep the long feared mental wall crashed into me. I'm proud how well I have done given that I'm effectively be shut off by the world for more than two months. It couldn't last forever though. Monday was brutal but I got through. On Tuesday I worked and then moved through the bruising week.

Come the weekend though I'm doing pretty well. It's still cold and bitter winds sweep across my world. It didn't stop me going for a walk in the woods yesterday. Finally invested in some Wellington boots to make it into the woods in winter.

I celebrated Chinese New Year on Friday with some rather good stir fried beef with broccoli in oyster sauce. Then I turned my skills to the waning game season. The pan fried medallions of venison were sublime in their port and blackberry sauce. This weekend I have really triumphed in the kitchen. Just got to nail the roast leg of lamb tonight now.

Whatever tomorrow brings you or me please take care. We will get there once day.

I Heard a Voice. 

Flecked With Snow.

Winter is definitely upon us this Sunday. Bitter cold, an icy wind and I came back from my walk flecked with snow. It was only a brief walk and I stopped off to say hello to my friend Jo from the end of her garden. With pestilence still stalking the land it feels far more frightening now than it did in the spring. I think Jo is just the sixth person I've seen since the holidays.

Despite the cold I'm not down hearted. I have The Marriage of Figaro playing, shoulder of pork in the oven and am getting ready for the Super Bowl tonight. You may all recall my normal routine on Super Bowl weekend is to visit Miriam and Nigel. But this year it is not to be. I'm just praying that Tom Brady doesn't win yet again.

Funny to think that three years ago on Monday I got the fateful text from my then landlord that I had to move. Along with dad being so ill at the time, those were truly dark days for me. However, now I'm in a much nicer flat, I get looked after by the agent, I have a consultant psychiatrist and a therapist. So over all I'm doing much better than then.

What the rest of February looks like is anyone's guess. I'm hoping to have had my first vaccine by spring. That is if the university doesn't push for it earlier. With each passing week I know more and more people who have had it. Many things have gone wrong in my country since the first lock down but it seems the vaccination programme is a huge success.

In the meantime I continue on in my cautious way. No friends, no pubs, no dinners, no restaurants. I miss all of that. One day though I will return to those fun times. Just not yet.

Take care out there.

I Heard a Voice.

The Cloak of Darkness.

Night is falling enveloping my land in a veil of darkness. It's been a filthy day here. Cold, wet, sleet and snow. Waking late I struggled to get out of bed and motivate myself to do anything. But I got up, did some cleaning, did the washing, took the rubbish and recycling out and made myself a nice halloumi and grape salad with oregano and lemon juice for my lunch. Then mid afternoon I made a rendang paste.

Now my flat has the wondrous aroma of beef rendang, the clothes are clean, the bathroom is more useable and I'm in for the night. I did a little reading after all that housework. Had a couple of glasses of Picpoul de Pinet. And listening to Classic FM.

Days like today are not good but being indoors in the warm is preferable to getting soaked and frozen outside. Now I just have to decide what to do after my rendang. The choices are the opera Faust on Radio 3, some NFL action from two weeks ago, a film or just watch cooking programmes. Not bad choices.

Another working week is done. Thursday was pretty bruising, once again faced with angry and aggressive students I was not at my best but I did what I could. I'm trying to remain philosophical about work. Some days are good and some days are bad. But I keep going.

The news on the lockdown does not feel great. They are now saying pubs and restaurants may not be open until May. Great for my finances but that is a long time for me to get back to my favourite past times. People keep telling me how resilient I am. Today feels okay but what about three weeks? Six weeks? Two months? Entirely alone that is a hard ask.

To get through though I must take it a step at a time, I must read, I must cook, and I must listen to my opera. These are my solitary pleasures in life.

Until next time, take care.

I Heard a Voice.

Enveloped in Snow.

The savage beauty of winter has descended. The woods over the road are blanketed by a thick layer of snow. It's been coming down pretty much since I got up. Much as I love the winter landscape with its dazzling whiteness I'm not a fan of going out in it. So on this January Sunday I'm staying very much indoors.

Puccini opened my opera account and accompanied a wonderful zoom catch up with my friends Kym and Peter. Whenever I see her I wonder what might have been. The uncertainty and paranoia I face at times would not have been there had she not made a big decision a few years ago. It was the right decision for her but the wrong decision for me. And so we have come to my working world. 

Tomorrow is the day I dread more than any other. The pointless appraisal. Not had one for several years. Who knows what tomorrow's will bring but I do know that all previous experiences have been hideous which served to knock my confidence, dent my fragile resilience and make me feel even more that I can trust no one.

Fortunately we haven't got to 4 pm on Monday yet. Today is opera, reading and cooking day. The sublime Tosca has given way to the equally sublime Marriage of Figaro. I have read the paper. My chicken is out coming to room temperature before going in the oven at 4 pm.

On balance it has been a pretty good weekend. I've spoken to a lot of people on the phone. I didn't perhaps achieve as much around the flat as I'd hoped but so be it. There is always another day.

Tonight brings the NFL conference championship games. I don't really mind who wins as long as it's not Tom Brady yet again. I thought after last year he was finished. But he has fought on at age 43. Some achievement despite to disdain for him.

My trip to Miriam's for the Super Bowl is of course off this year. I remain alone and isolated but I'm holding my own. Whilst many have support bubbles I do not. Most people I know are already linked in with family. Those who are not are vulnerable so I simply don't want to risk meeting them. So on I plod.

Enjoy your Sunday everyone.

I Heard a Voice.

Another Year, Another Birthday.

Can it really be that nine years have gone by?  On this grey, overcast but fairly mild day mum would have turned 89. Time speeds up as we get older. I well recall her final birthday. We all went out for dinner, we were all terrified by dad's driving, and we all had a good time. I was slimmer, less grey, had more hair and was living in another flat. I ate T bone steak, indulged and lived on for a couple more months with her about. She died two months later, suddenly, unexpectedly but ultimately at the right time.

The last years of her life were wracked with joint pain, depression, chronic anxiety and dementia. I do not want to think about what might have happened had she not gone swimming in the sea that day, had not had a heart attack and would not have drowned. Life in a care home would have been awful for her. And that was what would have happened sooner or later.

That my relationship with her was troubled is well documented. She was troubled, combative and hostile at times. But on her birthday I prefer to remember how she was volunteering at St Peter's School in Folkestone teaching the kids to read and generally amazing people with her stories.

A great regret for me is that at the end of her life she felt she had achieved nothing. The two great passions of her life were her Christian faith and her fierce and determined fight to raise the rights of women. Even today the Anglo Catholic church is not as accepting of women as a Christian church should be. A lack of tolerance plagued the church of England for many years.

Coming to the university as I did in 2007 I learned so much about the fight for equality. Yes I knew my world, the world of mental illness. But not of the other strands of the agenda.

My world has evolved over the thirty years I have battled for my cause. We're not there yet but we are getting to a better place. The writings I put on here do I hope help. Likewise my occasional social media posts on mental health.

Mum would rarely accept that she was wrong. She wouldn't accept early in my life how troubled she was by her mental health. When I had my breakdown she told me she knew she didn't really. She knew her experience not mine. But who can fault her for that?

I have tried hard in the last thirty years to acknowledge where my peers are. Sometimes I succeed, sometimes I fail. People have said to me over the years "remember she is ill too". Too late in her life did I recognise that.

On the 28th March we will once again mark her passing. I will listen to requiems, Miriam will reflect, and dad I suspect will risk the bus to visit her memorial at the crematorium. But that can wait. For today would have been her birthday. Happy birthday mum.

I Heard a Voice.