The 'Electrical Room' was quite depressing - which is strange since its main purpose is to cure depression.

What used to be called ‘electroconvulsive therapy’ has now been replaced by ‘electronarcosis’. The drama of the former (what Jean Thuillier called ‘The Convulsion Pantomime’): the rubber straps, the gag, the burly male nurses holding down the twisting, grimacing, threshing patient when the electrodes are applied to his temples – all gone now. With electronarcosis you are slumbering pleasantly, courtesy of a little thiopentone sodium (Pentothol), injected into a vein at the fold of the elbow. A mild formulation of curare is then injected through the same needle. The muscles relax and the body goes slack and limp. It is only then that the electrodes are applied.
The treatment is essentially the same but, as Thuillier says, the addition of a few props makes the all the difference. ‘… the treatment of depression… is no longer a tragic sequence, but rather a diversionary interlude’

Even so, I don’t think I want a dollop of it. And I tell the good doctor that although I believe in the treatment (and I genuinely do because I have talked to people who say their lives have been ‘given back to them’ by wiring them up to the national grid for a few seconds) I would prefer to stick to the tricyclates and the MAOIs – for the time being.

Dr Singh says to me: We’ve been reading those books again, haven’t we! Which is it this time ‘Once few over the cuckoo’s nest’?
You’re a bit out of date, I reply. As a matter of fact it is a book called ‘Ten Years that changed the face of mental illness’ by Jean Thuillier.
Oh, he says, and goes away – presumably to talk to old Foggatty.

Later, Greta came round with the tea trolley. You know, I am beginning to fancy her. Not in the same league as the Swedish tart as far as looks go - but there’s something about a uniform...