Across the pond

Had quite a social week culminating on Thursday evening with the party to celebrate thirty years of journalism at City University, at which a good time was had by most. About which I should have blogged by now. Problem is I hit a depression, partly triggered by drinking too much. So readers will have to wait.

But the experience also reminds me that I have not done very much so far in this blog in fulfilling one of the aims; explaining what life is like viewed from the perspective of a manic depressive.

Drink is a bigger problem for the manic depressive than for the rest of humanity. Some of it can be a great help. It loosens the tongue, aids initial contacts with other human beings, which stimulates and excites.

Too much of it is a disaster. It fuels the manic flow of aspirations. But it erodes the ability to fulfil those aspirations. So although my speech was still not slurred by the end of the evening and I was able to get into a taxi without stumbling, I had had rather too much for my own well-being.

Alcohol above all is a chemical depressive. Right now, on Saturday, I am still too depressed to write a decent blog. So all those ex-City students who missed the party will have to wait a day or two for my report on it.

Right now I need a rest or a change. So I am off to help my youngest daughter with her computer and her new mobile phone. Funnily enough I can deal with computers when I am depressed. In a similar way that my father still managed to do some carpentry, clock mending and do-it-yourself even when depressed.

Note for any shrinks who happen on this blog. The right kind of work can be the best therapist. Much better than locking people up.