Lost Going Round Cape Horn, The Taxi and Depression.

I have been hopelessly lost with my book Summers Grace, which is a story based on George Anson’s epic voyage round the world in 1740 basically the hard way namely the north Atlantic the South Atlantic round Cape Horn and then the Pacific; starting too late in the year he nearly floundered on the Horn losing most of his fleet. Actually living this as I do, I think the ships in question deliberately lost him because they knew thing or two and it was totally insane. The trouble is that my work is so continually off the boil as a result of domestic interruptions, that I get back into it like someone with advanced disconvolvulation , whatever that is I cannot spell it. Of course the lack of Longitude was a major issue, the solving of which was eventually emolliated by one of the few survivors who gave Harrison all his prize money to finish his remarkable Longitude clock. I could do with one of those myself in this household I never know if I am coming or going or the time of day. But I am now firmly back in there, and we are approaching the coast of South America in fearful conditions. I turn the pages of one of the original copies of Anson’s log, my hands sweating in white cotton gloves, with awe. It is nice to be back though. The picture on my blog of Greenwich is where the clock now resides. My last book “Flora’s Glory” was not quite such challenge. The Court of William and Mary plus some fabulous gardens was a much less challenging subject matter.

Talking of journeys the Sainted One and moi went to a lovely dinner last night in CHELSEA, a rather vague lady asked if she could have a lift later , I told her that the SO would be the driver and it would be “very hit or miss” added to which I was a terrible passenger and screamed in terror most of the time, then the SO asked her where EATON SQUARE was exactly. She looked about frantically, liked a trapped animal, and then said she would rather take a taxi. A wise choice!

I have reason to know quite a lot about depression and therefore thank the good Lord each day that so far I do not suffer from this myself. The other day I sat between two very high achieving people who had it, but were now in the calm waters of recovery. They say nobody can understand the pain of it, like twenty televisions all turned on at once tuned into different programmes. You can only think that ending your life is the only way out. But believe me I do know, I also know the treatment of this terrible blight is an inexact science. But I would suggest that a holistic approach combined with conventional medication is not examined carefully enough. The body is such an astonishing phenomena a beautiful thing where no organ is independent of another. Nurse each bit of it until it mends it’s broken brain…….easier said than done.

I have seen many things recently a lot of them the creations of those who suffered depression, The Impressionists at the National Gallery, Noel Cowards Jewell Hay Fever and Alexander Mc Queens exhibition at the Victoria and Albert Museum, there is of course, something dark lurking in most of them.

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