Last night as I was about to engage in a prolonged snuggle with my beloved I got a call from my old work, they had called the police and were unable to handle a mental health patient who was weilding a knife and marching round the property.

How, you may ask did I use my quite literally several years experience to ahem, “de-escalate” the situation?

Answer… I promised not to move his favourite chair in the kitchen inflatable combo , correctly identified it as the one on the back left of the table, describing in detail the small brown mark on the top at the back and again, promised not to move it. Inflatable Boat

Job done.

Just another ordinary day in the ordinary life of an underpaid mental health bank support worker/ community recovery worker/ community well being bank worker…

It’s a tough job, but somebo… (you know the rest)

In the beginning:

Halfway

Stop for triple coffee:

The end of the truckle:

Fried rind:

Finished:

Polystyrene tower destined for tip:

Six stare wood store added:

Breakfast the day after: toast, butter and marmalade:

Alternative breakfast: buckwheat groats.

Robert Preston says:

“Airline executives and engineers want to know why they can’t be given permission to fly at 20,000 feet, below the ash cloud, till the cloud clears.”

Indeed.

INDOORS:

OUTDOORS:

He had his scheme of life worked out to a fine point. About once a month he would take three days writing a few poems; the other three hundred and twenty-nine days of the year he rested. I didn’t know there was enough money in poetry to support a chappie, even in the way in which Rocky lived; but it seems that, if you stick to exhortations to young men to lead the strenuous life and don’t shove in any rhymes, American editors fight for the stuff. Rocky showed me one of his things once. It began:

Be!
Be!
The past is dead.
To-morrow is not born.
Be to-day!
To-day!
Be with every nerve,
With every muscle,
With every drop of your red blood!
Be!

It was printed opposite the frontispiece of a magazine with a sort of scroll round it, and a picture in the middle of a fairly-nude chappie, with bulging muscles, giving the rising sun the glad eye. Rocky said they gave him a hundred dollars for it, and he stayed in bed till four in the afternoon for over a month.