Sicko !

Argh I am overcome ! The grey weather, a sudden lack of cake at the village hall, a corrupt save game file, and listening to a succession of patients (ok three), whine about their own problems has left me feelling depressed and considering my own. Most psychologists have their own problems (that's why they are interested in the subject) and I often wonder how we are supposed to empathise with a patient when our own experiences are so much worse.

Now I additionally have deadlines for two large manuscripts, a report on the Nailsea archealogical dig and the first chapters of my project management manual. I can't bring myself to touch either of them. My depressed mood rapidly turns into a cold, then full blown influenza.
Only today, after burning through Oliver James'es latest, a book on dueling, one on the summer of 1911, one on Elizabeth I, Helen Mirren's autobiography and finally Heston Blumenthal's Perfection do I stagger back to the surgery for tea and cake.

Jane's therapy is coming along well, she is beginning to find certain types of comfort food distasteful, my coughing mucus all over the cake no doubt adding to the effect...