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I had never tasted a fish-finger until I met my wife.

As you can see, I am very much pre-occupied in going back over my life, and I realise that I am in danger of repeating myself. But never mind, if I say something twice I am sure I will say it differently the second time.
Time – the phenomenon fascinates me. Clock time is not real time. It is just something we have made up. Time is elastic. When I fell off the bridge I was in the air for ages, whereas my session with Amanda was over in seconds. Generally, however, in here time crawls.
Being in a loony bin frees you from the constraints of normal life, and with it the normal conventions of ‘writing’.
Tenses, for example. I may be writing in the present tense but then suddenly slip into past tense. At times I may be imagining – imagining what might happen in the future. But I may be writing as if it had already happened. The bit about the pillow actually did happen in the past – the long ago past. But it is here in the present too, in the form of a ghostly imprint on the mind. In fact everything that ever happened to you – and your reaction to it - from the moment you were born is recorded in the brain - like a high quality video tape, ready for replay at any time. All you need is the right trigger: a word; a phrase; a glance, a smell. And of course, under hypnosis – did I mention that I am a trained hypnotherapist?

I want to talk about brain – particularly the reptilian brain: the bit that sits on top of your spinal cord; the old, primitive part of the brain.
But not now, because it is getting late. Well, it might be getting late – or am I talking about yesterday?

Greta is here with the night- time medication. She is starting to look at me in a “funny way”. Is she bent upon seduction, I wonder, or am I being paranoid? Well if you want to be paranoid you are in the right place.
I no longer bother asking what medication I am being given. It’s too much of an effort. I am starting to itch though, especially at night. It’s mostly in the legs and ankles and sometimes I scratch so hard that I bleed – but not much. Could that be the “meds”? (see how I am getting into the medical slang).

If they were to make a film of your life, what would it be? A comedy? Tragedy? Thriller? Farce? That is a question I sometimes would ask of my clients – now I ask it of myself.

Hello! Here comes Greta again. She’s already given me my tablets. What can she want!