The morning was bright and the sun came out despite the snow still covering the grounds and fields outside the locked ward. I stood by the lounge window and peered out at it. I could see the traffic going past on the road beyond the fields. I was given a cigarette by Eastman the nurse on duty, a thin **** of a man with that look of a monk about him. Bridget got into a row with the Asian nurse about her medication and whether she had taken it or hidden it. I stuffed it up my bahookie, Bridget said, want tae hae a keek? The nurse walked off and Bridget smiled and lit herself a cigarette. After our crap dinner I had an appointment to see the quack. It was the foreign one, our usual was sunning himself some place so i assumed. The quack asked the usual questions and I sat there gazing at his black hair and brown eyes like **** holes, replying now and then, watching Vincent standing by the window moving his finger along the glass, drawing invisible marks. The nurse who sat beside me urged me to reply to the question. How are you feeling now on the new medication? he asked again. Vincent turned and made faces at the quack that made me smile. No different, I said, trying to contain the smile that watching Vincent brought on. The quack looked towards the widow, but couldn’t see Van Gogh standing there. The afternoon dragged like a man pulling a dead elephant through mud. Teatime we had cheese and ham sandwiches and that mud-like cocoa. Lucy sat beside me on the battered brown sofa in the lounge, gazing the the TV, and some boring programme about politics. Bridget said loudly that politicians were a crowd of ******
Feb 28, 2025
Feb 28, 2025 at 4:07 AM UTC
The morning was bright and the sun came out despite the snow still covering the grounds and fields outside the locked ward. I stood by the lounge window and peered out at it. I could see the traffic going past on the road beyond the fields. I was given a cigarette by Eastman the nurse on duty, a thin **** of a man with that look of a monk about him. Bridget got into a row with the Asian nurse about her medication and whether she had taken it or hidden it. I stuffed it up my bahookie, Bridget said, want tae hae a keek? The nurse walked off and Bridget smiled and lit herself a cigarette. After our crap dinner I had an appointment to see the quack. It was the foreign one, our usual was sunning himself some place so i assumed. The quack asked the usual questions and I sat there gazing at his black hair and brown eyes like **** holes, replying now and then, watching Vincent standing by the window moving his finger along the glass, drawing invisible marks. The nurse who sat beside me urged me to reply to the question. How are you feeling now on the new medication? he asked again. Vincent turned and made faces at the quack that made me smile. No different, I said, trying to contain the smile that watching Vincent brought on. The quack looked towards the widow, but couldn’t see Van Gogh standing there. The afternoon dragged like a man pulling a dead elephant through mud. Teatime we had cheese and ham sandwiches and that mud-like cocoa. Lucy sat beside me on the battered brown sofa in the lounge, gazing the the TV, and some boring programme about politics. Bridget said loudly that politicians were a crowd of ******
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