Monday, May 07, 2007


I had a number of bad dreams one night about people shooting into my house. This is particularly weird because I don't actually live in a house with a garden, where bodies can be buried. (OK, I need to cut down on the number of action movies I watch) The worst dreams are when I feel like I am being smothered by someone. I try and wake up ready for a fight for survival, only to find my arm has cramp. Before I went away I saw a TV program about the depression that Stephen Fry suffers from. As part of the program, Stephen showed the inside of the hospital on Cromwell Rd in London where he stayed, when he had a break down because he was crap in a play. How these celebrities lord it over us! When I used to live in London I used to de-stress by walking along Cromwell Rd. In the darkness, I used to stare at the green windows of the Cromwell hospital. I used to fantasize about the emotional care they were getting in the hospital. I would trudge back through the litter to my solitary bedsit. Yeah, celebrities go to rehab. The rest of us fall low and end up drinking special brew outside the super-market. Yes, rehap for me would be spending a couple of years selling the big issue. There is an interesting story about depression in the online guardian. From the article:
Then, in the early 1600s, a mass epidemic of depression broke out.
It is clear that we need Dr Who to travel back in time to sort this depression thing out.