The Hadron Collider

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The Hadron Collider
Has stopped – ‘cos a spider
Crawled deep down inside of the works.
It was looking for flies,
But to its surprise,
All it found there were quinks, quarks and querks.

That’s Clive: the “poet”. Remember him? He’s in here again: a recurrence of his PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder)
Sad case. He had a flat over a butcher’s in Rhyl. One night the shop caught fire. Clive is convinced it was arson, because the owner was English and it happened at that time when there was a lot of protest about English people owning holiday homes in Wales. I know you can hardly call a butchers’ shop a holiday home but Clive is adamant that the fire was started deliberately.
The place was like Dante’s Infirmary – as Clive puts it. Well, you can imagine, what with all that fat and grease. Clive was lucky to get out alive: he was carried to safety over a fireman’s shoulder. But ever since then he cannot walk past a butcher’s shop, he has to cross to the other side of the road. And he won’t eat meat. In fact, the reason he’s back in here is that he was at a wedding reception, a bit drunk, and someone handed him a ham sandwich. Before he realised, he had taken a bite, and that was that. It was like a recovering alcoholic having a whisky.

He tells me Freddie is treating him with this new EMDR therapy (Eye Movement Desensitisation and Reprocessing.) In fact that was why Freddie was at the conference: The main speaker was Dr Francine Shapiro (Freddie calls her Frankie) who invented the treatment. According to Clive, “This bird discovered it when she was walking through a park.” Like she found it under a bush.
I don’t know what Clive is talking about – and I don’t think he does.

Anyway he spends his time in here going through the papers and making up verses about the headlines. Apparently he saw something in the Telegraph about them shutting down this Collider thing because some copper contacts were faulty. He thought the ‘spider’ explanation was much more interesting. I humour him.

I am currently reading “Shoot The Damn Dog”, a memoir of Sally Brampton’s journey through depression. Freddie is not sure I should be reading a book about depression – neither am I. But the first page hooked me: On that first page she says, “Life is about connection. There is nothing else.” Well, you sure spat a boot-full there, Sal.
I think she is right. This blog is about connection: the two of us connecting. But have you noticed, Anna that other people are reading our story? I don’t mind that, do you? In fact I am pleased – and rather honoured - that we have “followers”, that we are connecting with others, and sharing our thoughts and feelings. And it occurs to me that I should take this opportunity to thank them for their interest in two (for the moment) thwarted lovers.

One of our followers has a blog called “propoquerian” and I had a look at it, and also one by someone called “Lolita”. I am blown away (I believe this is to be the current vernacular) by the creativity and the quality of the writing. Have a look at them. They also have photographs – including a picture of the author. I feel our blog is lacking in this respect and that we should address the problem. But we have a dilemma: I don’t want to be identified as a psychiatric patient and you – well, you are not exactly "on the run" but your presence on this sceptre’d isle is not exactly kosher, is it? Still, I will try to think of something.

That was indeed an amusing incident on the bus. I wonder the man did not quote you the “Freedom of Copulation Act”. No, there isn’t such an act, Anna. Don’t bother to look it up.

Personally, I am not a devotee of pizza, but if pressed I would go for the thin rather than the thick crust. By the way, you toss a mean salad. This I remember from your days at Wynorin.

One final word about Sven. I do not owe your brother any money. It is very noble of him (now he is a born-again park warden) to let me off a debt I never incurred in the first place. Don’t think I am being pedantic but it is a matter of principle to me. So please, Anna, no more about this phantom debt.

I saw a compass in a magazine. It was a super looking thing; it had a couple of big dials around the rim, with “minutes” and stuff marked on them, and there was a light you could switch on when it got dark. I imagine it was the sort of thing the SAS would use. I was tempted, but I resisted. So you need not worry, Anna That watch is the last piece of military equipment I am going to buy.

I have much more to say but will leave it there for now.

Hoping we may one day have an incident on a bus.

George

Whatever will next be happening in this strange country of the British Isles? This is what I ask of myself. Well, no, I ask Brian first because he it is who tells me of incident on late night bus.

Brian is driving last bus of night and looking forward to end of shift and returning home to delicious meal Anna have prepared for him. (This night was the pizza, delivered fresh by man on moped from ‘Pete’s Pizzas’ – with salad I make myself). Well, Brian happen to glance into mirror which is for safety reasons in keeping eye on passengers and making sure they are not breaking rules of bus company by smoking illegal cigarette or perhaps eating traditional British unhealthy meal of large packet of the greasy fish and chips, which stink out bus and have cleaners complaining to supervisor. Anyways, you may imagine surprise when he see two persons (male and female) indulging in sex act on rearmost seat of bus. (This is seat that go from one side of bus to other which make ideal for comfort while engaging in sexual act – not that I ever try this).



This is also to surprise, but great interest of only other passenger which is clerical gentleman, (perhaps vicar because he is wearing what you call the dog-collar). Brian is very considerate man but at same time has job to do. So he keep glancing in mirror until he think they finish. Then he stop bus. He give pause for the doing up of the clothing on these two, then he get out of his seat and go down bus, asking them in kindly manner if they aware of regulation which forbids the shagging on bus. The young man say -no, he is not aware of such rule. And woman retort – we’re in love, mate. Innit! Brian tells me that as he hear these words, tears come into his eyes as he is remembering Winston whom is now doing her Majesty’s pleasure. So he say - okay, but do not do this thing again on public transport
They thank him for his understanding (and also apologise to clerical gentleman who has missed his stop.) As they get off bus the youth deposit condom (which he has now finished with) in used-ticket box. Brian say this shows respect for keeping streets litter-free, but will get not please cleaners of bus.

I do not know why you worry so about money you owe to Sven. Do I not tell you Sven has said he no longer wants money since it is tainted with smell of sex?

I am sure all this thinking about death is not good for you, Georgie. I do not think about death because it is what happens to other people. Why do you not think about the living people – especially Anna and George? We got so much living to do, eh? Which is reminding me to say that if Freddie is at conference can you not persuade little Indian doctor to allow visit from Anna? You could say this would be most beneficial for recovery of yourself, especially if we could have time alone – say if private room – to discuss financial matters which cause you worry. Perhaps you tell him that if he do this good deed he jump up one caste in next life.

I do not know what you talk about with these little wooden dolls, nesting each inside of the other. Are you taking your medication?
Cannot wait to hear good news for visit.

Excited Anna

The flowers that bloom in the Spring...

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Dear Anna

Have you ever noticed how people turn into other people as they grow up? I wonder what happens to all those people who have been left behind. Do they still exist, nestling, like those Russian dolls, one inside the other? You may think this is a philosophical question, which need not delay us at this juncture – but I find it fascinating.

I am pleased to hear that Sven is doing well in his new job as park warden. This is an ideal career for the socially aware and the ecologically minded. And there is the added advantage, in the summer, of being able to observe at close quarters the young office girls, sunbathing in their lunch break. Also he will have the excuse to get up close on the pretence of spearing a piece of litter with his pointed stick. I expect they have given him one? They are standard issue for English park wardens and I would not expect Sweden to differ in this respect.

I must, however, vigorously challenge your brother’s allegation that I owe him money. Those videos were supplied to me on a “Sale or Return” basis. I could not sell them: the sound quality was atrocious and the sub-titles were in Swedish. As for returning them – how could I do that? Sven and his company had relocated – in a hurry – and left no forwarding address. In the end I dumped them on the municipal rubbish tip.

Do you ever think about death, Anna? I do, frequently. I mean it’s so final, isn’t it: one minute you’re there, next minute you’re gone. I was with my mother when she died. I was sitting by her bed and she was breathing gently, as if she were asleep. And suddenly I notice that the breathing had stopped. It was if she had just slipped away. But slipped away to where?
You would think that if God cared so much about us he would make us perennial – like the crocus,or the tulip: we would die – but come back next year. I’m not religious, as you know, but I asked Derek if he was. He said, ‘I’m a Catholic, but not a good one. I replied, ‘Well, I’m an Atheist, but not a good one.
Freddie is an atheist, but I suppose Dr Singh is religious, him being a Hindu. Don’t they have this caste system? You know, where you are born into a particular caste and you stay in it? Then if you are ‘good’ in this life you move up a caste in the next. (That’s why they believe in reincarnation: no social mobility in this life but chance of a better hand of cards in the next.) I suppose if you do badly in this life then you move down a caste in the next – a bit like a football team: do well this season and you get promoted next season; do badly and you’re relegated. Of course, if you are an ‘untouchable’ you can’t get any lower, so I don’t know how they deal with that one – I suppose it’s all written down in the Upanishads.
I’ve just had a thought: If you are an ‘untouchable’ does that mean you can’t get mugged?

I think it is okay to buy food in a packet, if it is from Marks & Spencer: a fine example of Jewish enterprise. My wife (ex wife) you may remember, used to work for them. They were very good to their staff: free hair-do’s, free dental treatment, a company chiropodist - plus all the staff-discounts. I don’t think you get all these perks now, though.

It is a lovely Spring day here. I shall shortly stroll around the grounds (like Mrs Robinson) and look if I can see any born-again flowers. And, of course, think of you!

Yours always

George

So good to be hearing from you and knowing I have not offended to you. But you are sounding (though I cannot hear the voice) that you may presently be in the mood swing which is called manic after the down swing of depressive. I know about such things because I look up on Internet, as I am concerned about the state of your welfare in mental health. What I am saying is this, to be careful in this maniacal state that you do not do things which later you are regretful of. I am not saying the buying of military watch when you are not in military is causing problems, only not to continue spending plenty money to buy other military items which have no purpose for you. Because you are civilian.
Anyway, such is your own business.

What strange word is this ‘moggie’ which can be cat or mouse. This could never be in my language being of much more sensible usage. But never mind.
You are telling me previously of mad mama wanting to jump into big pond to drown self. Only really she not going to do this but you being small child do not know. Silly cow is this woman, even though she your mother. But you do not tell me about pillow. What is this incident with pillow?

Brian say he is happy to sleep on Japan bench. He say he snore and would awaken me if we share double bed. I do not know if he tells truth.

Piece of news I have for you which is telephone call from my brother. Sven is back in land of his birth and he tell me when ferry land he kiss ground – like Pope man do, only not for same reason I am thinking. But my brother tell me is reforming his character. No more the porn industry for him but more social caring job of warden in City Park. It is responsibility of Sven to see no one run off with small toddling children while they run and kick their balls on green grass, and lazy cows of mother sit and gabble on bench and passing too and fro the spliff what make them off their head and not giving bugger as to what is happen to their offspring.
Also is Sven’s job to shout at people what let their pet dog shit in unhygienic fashion on same green grass toddlers play on. He also give them ticket for fine if they curse him and do other unpleasantness to him when he is only doing job for which he is paid.
Sven also say to tell you he no longer require you to return to him large sum of money you owe to him, because money was got from porn industry for which Sven is now contemptible. (big word, eh? I always have M&S Dictionary plus book by Mr Roger by my side when I am typing to you in Internet Café, though other patrons look at me in funny way.)

For tonight supper I cheat and get food in packet from same M&S what supply dictionary. (such a fine and useful store). This is Chinese Banquet for two (which is me and Brian) and is costly but save having to bugger about chopping up all bits of different stuff like the vegetable and having go to funny shops and buy spices, and also have to wash and clean dead bird parts – UGH.
But do not worry that I remain for ever in flat of bus-driver Brian. Once my Georgie is well again from his mental diseases (which will be soon) then we find own flat – just for me and you.

Longing for such time

Anna

HAVE NO FEAR – GEORGE IS HERE.

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No, Anna, you have done nothing to offend; it is simply that I have had a couple of days of a ‘downer’.

Freddie has been at a conference and Doctor Singh (you remember him? Old Etonian, Hindu?) had a talk with me.
‘I’m not increasing my medication.’ I said.
‘My dear chap,’ He always calls me that. ‘I would not dream of asking you to. You know that, in some sense, I am a neo-Laingian rather than a post-Freudian.’
‘Well, as my mother used to say,’ I quipped, ‘it takes all sorts.’
‘What did she mean by that?’ asked a puzzled Dr S.
‘I have no idea. She had all sorts of funny sayings.’
‘Can you give me an example?’
I thought for a bit. ‘Well, if she was a bit stressed – she was often stressed - she might say, “I wish I was a moggie and the cat had me.”, and another one was “It won’t always be dark at four o clock.”’
'What is a moggie?'
'Well, for most people it is a cat, but my mother always called a mouse a moggie.'
‘Didn’t your mother once threaten to throw herself in the lake?’
‘Reservoir.’ I corrected.
‘How old were you at the time?’
‘I suppose I must have been four or five – it was before my dad went into the Air Force.’
‘That must have been pretty scary for you. To hear your mum say that, I mean.’
‘It was. I can remember looking up and seeing two grown ups – there may have been three – shouting at each other. And I somehow felt responsible… not responsible for what it was all about – I didn’t understand what it was about – but responsible for doing something , doing something to make everything all right. But I didn’t know what to do.’
‘But how could you know what to do? You were only four.’ Replied Dr Singh. He then went of to ask me to tell him (again) about the incident of the pillow.

But enough of this, Anna..

I have bought myself a watch. A Swiss Army Watch. It was an ‘offer’ in the Daily Telegraph (I do read other newspapers, too: The Independent, The Times, and the social workers parish magazine : The Guardian. I wanted to cheer myself up. It is very nice; it has a luminous dial – well I suppose you would need that in the army since they must do a lot of their work in the dark.
I showed it to Derek (the self-harmer) and he said, ‘What do you want that for? You’re not in the Swiss Army.’
I said, ‘No, but if I ever join, I will already have the watch.’
‘But that’s silly.’ He replied. ‘If you joined they would give you a watch – along with one of those special penknives.’
‘Ah, but you see, I figure that if I already have the watch they will give me an extra bit of kit instead: like another pair of boots, or a shirt’

Derek lost interest. I can’t say I blame him.

Anyway, how are you, my love? You seem to be quite settling in chez Brian. Well, don’t get too comfortable! Your future lies with George, not some gay bus-driver.

I will close now as I have had a recurrence of the old IBS and have been ensconced in the thunder-box for most of the morning. This has delayed me, and I have much to do today. I see by my Swiss Army Watch that the time is 1.27pm - I shall be late on parade.

Looking forward to hearing from you.

Your ever loving

George

I do not hear from you Georgie.

I hope you are not offensive with me?

Talk to me.

Anna

Oh Georgie.

What must you be thinking of me? I apologise unreversably for the crudely suggestions I make in my last post. I know my speaking is often earthly but that is just my way of telling things how I see them. And also because I love you and do not wish to get you hurt through you being still the naïve person. But I can see how such words may be offensive on ears of English peoples – of which you are one – and so I say again, please forgive for me the direct speaking and not mincing up the words like you English do, but not criticising for that.
And also, am glad you saving love for me.

Anyway it is good you got computer stuff fixed. I still use the Internet café because Brian’s connecting is of the dial-up and cannot be arsed waiting for the bugger to start up. Sorry, there I am once more using the earthly language, but I remind you that there have been certain times you wish me to use such language (if you get my meaning - you naughty boy.) and hope you will in the future which is not too far away.

Today Brian is to take me on a day out in Purley because it is time off for him. He will show me sights of town like historical places of interest and culture. Also we shall be having light lunch at little teashop which is owned by two gentlemen friends of Brian. One is called Clive but I have forgotten name of other one.

Please write soon to tell me you forgive me. Not for going on town with Brian but for reason of unseemly speech in writing post. But please remember English proverb what says – spade is to be called spade, and not shovel.

Love you

Anna

"Savin' all my love for you..."

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Well, St Botolph’s is back online. I said to Freddie, ‘About time too. If you can’t organise a better internet service than this, I will take my custom to another lunatic asylum.’
Freddie just smiled that enigmatic smile of his, and then he said, ‘It sounds very important to you… the internet, I mean.’
‘It is,’ I responded with alacrity, ‘It’s my only way of communicating with the outside world.’
‘How do well do feel you are communicating in here… with you fellow residents?’
‘You mean patients, Freddie, that’s what they are: patients.’ I was getting a bit annoyed, especially as I was trying to log-on at the time.’
‘I see them as residents.’ Replied Freddie, completely unfazed by my tone. ‘What about the staff? Do you feel comfortable with them? Are you able to talk to them?’
I had just managed to log-on to Blogspot, so I said, ‘I don’t mean to be rude, Freddie, but could we leave this until my therapy session?’
‘Of course’ he replied, ‘But I would like you to think of your whole experience here with us as therapy – not just our ‘one-to-one sessions.’
‘I will, Freddie. Promise.’


Now look here my little Swedish saucepot , the wart to which I allude is on the outside of the thigh and not the inside. I have not been embracing any woman, clean or unclean. This is not for the want of opportunity, I might add – there are a few pretty ladies in here, and does not Freddie say that he wishes me to see my whole experience in here as therapy? But have I not told you that I am, as the song says, “Savin’ all my love for you.”
So I thought your response was un-called for, and perhaps a little on the crude side. I know you believe in calling a spade a spade but this time you gave it a real shovel-full. Not to worry, for I know you have only my interests at heart.

As regards Brian and his futon, it is his business if he chooses to reject a big double-bed – and yourself – in favour of this Japanese plank. I do not know why he is so obstinate; he could just sleep beside you, for the warmth and companionship; surely this would not represent a betrayal of his love for Winston? But, as I say, it is his business.

I will close now, they are coming round with the cocoa.

Chastely yours
George

Hello Georgie

You may not be getting receipt of this because your computer network might not yet be fixed like you were saying for a couple of days. But I am sending anyway.

No, you have not been telling me previous about wart. You have not been I hope copulating with unclean woman? If you wish to do such thing you should heed my advice what I previously advise which is the safe sex, and this mean the use of condom. Woman who is on pill or perhaps having fitted the coil may be safe from pregnant circumstances but you, my Georgie, will not be safe from horrible infections this woman may be secreting within her body. Like I say to you beforetimes, better to go with professional working girl who have regular checks-up down below, if you are understanding me? The passion may be carrying you away but does not take minute to pause and slip on protective sheath, which is condom. It is not for me to give the advice but I am doing.

I am cooking for supper tonight the beef-burgers. This not the muck they are selling down street at cheapo shop but these from fine store of Marks & Spencer which are 100% of the Aberdeen Agnes. This cow come from Scotland which is bloody backwards country but produces fine beef.

Brian still insist sleeping on Japanese wooden bed which is called Futon, instead of sharing big double-size bed with Anna. I tell him – ok buster, but your lookout if result is damaged spine which is hard to fix.

Anyway, I am hoping you see this and reply as soon as you can.

Your loving Anna

You want to get that looked at!

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Did I tell you about my wart, Anna?

It started as a sort of blemish on my left thigh. I kept touching it, and, almost imperceptibly, it grew bigger. Well, I showed it to Derek the other day (he’s another inmate – self harm) and he said ‘You want to get that looked at.’ So I did.

Not by Freddie, of course: we have other doctors – don’t forget, even mad folk can get physical ailments – and this lovely Indian lady had a shufti at it. She touched it gently with her doctor's fingers and said ‘It is a wart, caused by a viral infection. You can have it removed if you wish. We freeze it with liquid nitrogen.’
‘Thanks, but I’ll leave it for now.’ I said. ‘If it starts to bother me then I will have it done.’
She smiled. ‘Is there anything else I can help you with, this morning?’
‘No thank you,’ I smiled back ‘not that I can think of at the moment.’


I am glad you have decided to eschew the bus driving, Anna. Perhaps it is best if you just jog along as you are for a bit, and wait for something to turn up (like Mr Mcawber said).

Oh, and before I forget: they are updating the computer system here, so I may be off-line for a couple of days. I am just telling you so you won’t panic and think I have been ‘electrified’ - like the West Coast Line (Little joke there!).

Must dash. Breakfast time. Kippers this morning.

Oh, and thanks for your feedback on “letting go”, it was really valuable.
I am working on the “Letting go” thing. It is difficult, but I am improving.

Move along down the bus.

Yours as ever

George