In hospital

     After about a week I received a telephone call from my receptionist  "What do I do, no-one has turned up as promised, every-body is after you" I said told the girl something like ring my accountant and said goodbye. The accompanying nurse said I went ballistic so I got more drugs and sent to the 1st, and only, anger management class where I volunteered to talk about my anger first as I was now getting increasingly agitated, (I remember those feelings) worrying about the practice.

      I kept being interrupted by one patient as I spoke so I told her to “shut the f*** up" and let me finish”. The Counsellor then threw me out of the class FOR BEING TOO ANGRY. Strangely enough my anger before June was aimed at the CSA and the bald tw*t that took my place in my marriage, oh and other car drivers. BUT now it was increasing daily with frustration. I tried to escape once and got caught very quickly in a field ! So I became a bit of a cult hero for a day or so with the other inmates…..but no more anger management classes for me.

     So we formed "The Cuckoo's Nest" I bagsied the Indian as it was my idea,  where we talked about our problems to each other in  pairs. Me, D the coke addict and P the millionaire's son who was a Disc jockey and the women. C who had been run over in a car park on Xmas eve and woke with a broken back and her boyfriend's head on her chest. His body was 10yards away, however. H, a doctor that kept trying to commit suicide and a beautiful looking  Nat West bank manager that only had "post natal depression" ONLY wow she was crazy.... And a self harmer that D allegedly (!)"visited in the night ". The foodies, the eating disorder girls also joined in. THAT was so sad meeting them. Half WERE strange but the rest were just poor sad little girls with some screwy ideas about themselves. and how they looked. I was ORDERED to meet them and apologise after I got caught telling Jo Brand's joke: "I think I am anorexic 'cos when anorexics look in the mirror they think they are fat.....and so do I" one day.

         I was woken up one afternoon to go to a relaxation class where oddly enough I soon fell asleep again. I was rudely awoken and told to relax. So I angrily pointed out that I had been asleep prior to being made to join in and IMHO sleep was probably the best form of relaxation. I was immediately sent to the top psychiatrist who pulled me to pieces and told to make an effort to fit in more. It was like being back in Malvern my the public school.

        I again repeatedly asked about my Practice and was told all was being done. I did mention many times that I WANTED TO KNOW WHAT WAS GOING ON but they kept saying all was OK. So not much help there except for more medication. I planted seeds and successfully managed to kill them all by over watering them. D, the coke addict and I made pipes, we called them bongs, in the Pottery classes and we both got a “rollicking” as we should have made a plate or something. We also made "voodoo dolls" which we had to break up  whilst apologising. I played table tennis and pool until I could stand it no more. I gave “concerts” on my 12 string (always went away with "the 'old bird" a 1973 Ibanez Hummingbird 12 string jumbo guitar I bought from Ivor Mairant in 1973) to the some patients.

        I watched every bloody game of the 1998 World Cup. The first and last time I will EVER done that. Well there was nothing else to do. I went for supervised walks to the park and fed the ducks. I saw that doctor, H, being slowly destroyed by E.C.T, after she tried to jump onto the M32 motorway apparently one night. I smoked like idiot which angered me as I had ALMOST given up prior to being “sectioned” I kept asking about my practice and was told all was OK .

        My sister visited me once for a VERY short while but my son was forbidden contact with me by my dearest ex-wife. I was forbidden contact with the outside world,  in case, would you believe, I rang the practice as all-was-being-done-etc-etc.

        What the hell was going on? Looking back I survived by acting "the joker" as I always have done in tricky situations. THAT is getting so much harder to do now....... Some friends, members of The Conmen (the band I had joined before "being sectioned", came to visit and took me for lunch to a nearby Tesco and told me my practice was closed. GREAT more worry. They tried to find out more for the second visit but the Health Authority, apparently, would not give details to them. One of them was a drug and alcohol counsellor and gave me support and stuff. He also was the ONLY help I could get after I was released and I "had to pretend I was an addict" just to be allowed into the centre and to eventually  use their helpful staff.
       So now A MAJOR worry had arisen and STILL I was not told of developments, despite me asking-and-asking-and-asking..... I was becoming VERY SCARED.

Also see the letter dated 1999 from the Consultant Psychiatrist that shows that even she did not know I was retired on my admission.

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