A letter arrives

I am tired tonight. My eyes ache, my legs ache and I feel depressed. I drank half a can of Special Brew last night – could that be it? I wonder. I know it is strong stuff but surely a half a can would do no harm. I had a friend who would drink a 6 pack of Special Brew at a sitting – and return to the Off-licence (liquor store for you Americans) for replenishment.

Nevertheless, I spent a while on the porcelain throne this morning and that can be a symptom. But it can be a symptom of many things – for example, I ate some cabbage at my evening meal. And I have been diagnosed as having IBS – which is related to stress… blah, blah, blah. Oh, I am fed up of trying to work all this stuff out – maybe it is just best to do want you want to do: eat what you fancy, drink what you fancy, and just accept the consequences. Maybe that is what you call ‘living’ – George did.

I miss the old bugger, sometimes. He was many things but he wasn’t boring. Hey, I am talking about him in the past tense, when he is very much alive. To prove it here is a letter I received from him only this morning.


Hello Spouse.

You have not been to see me yet. What’s the matter? Afraid of catching some neurosis or other. Madness is not contagious, you know.
But don’t worry about me (just in case you were) I am doing all right here. Nobody expects anything of you. There is no pressure. Three square meals a day and lovely grounds to stroll around (a la Mrs Robinson). Of course, the medication can play havoc with your tripes, but hey, you can’t have everything can you.

I sometimes think of you but it affords me little relief. I would like to see you though, if you can spare the time. I am in most days – well, every day, really
It is futile to apportion blame. Maybe I always had something wrong with my head – and you just made it worse. Let’s just say that we both did the best we could.

Amanda brought her little offspring in to see me. She has named her ‘Georgette’. I asked her if she had any idea who the father was. This seemed to upset her because she burst into tears, thrust the child into my arms and ran from the ward. Luckily staff-nurse Gawkins was on hand to take little Georgette off me (she said I was holding her like an unexploded bomb).

Must go now, it’s teatime. Steamed fish – my favourite.

Yours affectionately

George

A dysfunctional family? A dysfunctional world?

I’ll go and see him. What have I got to lose –except my sanity (and I’m already losing that.)