“So my wife smashed a bottle of wine over my head and told me she hated me and that she’d been having an affair with the milkman for two years,” said the man in the pub I’d only just met. “Since then I lost my job and my flat and my car. I really don’t know which way to turn. But luckily I have these voices in my head, and I’m hoping they’ll give me some ideas of what to do…”
Clarence Milport had been talking to me for an hour, and I looked at my watch surreptitiously, wondering when I could tactfully get away.
I think I must have ‘mug’ tattooed on my forehead or something, because no matter where I go, whether it’s work, the shops or to have a quiet drink, individuals with mental problems seem to be drawn to me, and insist on telling me all about their troubled lives.
It wouldn’t matter so much if everything in my own life was rosy, but it’s not. Just a week ago my wife left me, telling me I was hopeless in bed, I had a face like a lugubrious bloodhound and I had bored her stiff for all our ten years of married life. In one way it was a relief, because believe me, living with a woman who’s a vegan and an avowed pacifist who likes to talk for hours about her confused sexuality and thinks that she’s allergic to plaster and bricks is not easy. But as far as I know she’s very happy in the commune for vegan lesbians she’s joined in Sussex.
I have an office job I like, but the managing director often inveigles me into having late night drinking sessions with him where he tells me of his attempts at suicide and how I was ‘the only person he felt he could talk to’. The accountant often chats to me in the afternoons too, telling me that he had never wanted to be an accountant, he’d always had the desire to be a ballet dancer and his mother wouldn’t let him, and his humdrum life was driving him mad, especially as he’s convinced that everyone thinks he’s boring because he’s an accountant.
A while ago I was minding my own business, relaxing at a local beauty spot that’s on top of a cliff, and a man nearby was about to jump to his death. But before doing so, he came across to chat to me and talked for three hours. Like a fool I gave him my phone number and he calls me regularly when he’s upset. He calls me his ‘lifeline’.
I pondered on my lunch today. I had popped into Pret a Manger for a sandwich and soon a woman had joined me at the table, telling me that she had been abducted by aliens, who had made her pregnant, and her husband wouldn’t believe her story. Luckily a nervous looking man with a twitchy left eye soon appeared and led her away.
In the end I went to see my GP, whose a friendly soul whom I’ve always liked.
“Your trouble is, people can sense you’re sympathetic and kind. You’re just too nice,” he told me. “I know because I’m a bit like you, but I’ve had to learn to toughen up – if I spent hours talking to my patients I’d never get any work done. But at university I was plagued by all kinds of waifs and strays who no one else liked, coming and telling me their tales of misery and trouble. A mate of mine helped me a lot. In fact he set himself up as a life coach, and I think he’ll be able to help you. He’s a really nice guy. He’ll give you lots of tips and techniques for tactfully getting away from mad people.”
So I went to see ‘life coach’ Peter, who had a pleasant friendly face and a welcoming smile. He was indeed, as my doctor had told me, a really nice bloke, and I liked him. He listened to my problems and nodded seriously.
“I understand completely,” he said. “Our mutual friend Derek (my GP) was just like you at university. In one way you and Derek are very lucky people, because people instinctively like you, they feel you’re approachable and mentally ill people tend to be drawn to folk like that. I suggest that to stop this happening, it’s all a question of deflecting the unwanted attention you’re getting. You don’t have to stop being a nice sympathetic person, you just have to learn to reject people in a tactful way.”
He went on talking like that and I felt quite encouraged.
He looked at his watch after half an hour. “Do you know what, John?” he said. “You are very easy to talk to, I have so enjoyed meeting you. Matter of fact, my next patient hasn’t turned up, so unless you’re in a rush, there’s no need to end our session. Are you okay to stay for another hour?” He stretched out, frowning to himself, as he passed a hand across his forehead. “I hope you don’t mind, but I’d like to explain a bit about myself. You see, I never really wanted to get into this line of work. I think when I was younger I should have gone to Canada and been a lumberjack. That’s what I really wanted to do – to assert my masculinity. My mother never actually understood me, I think she’d rather I’d have been a girl, and I do have these feminine qualities that I worry about, but maybe everyone does? My father never understood me either, he was an authoritarian figure who believed in ghosts and used to thrash me…”
Hello Geoff, we actually preferred this to the last one – it was a somewhat lighter reading experience.
Well done once again, Ann and Tony
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Hello Ann and Tony, thanks, yes, this was just a bit of fun. Hope you;re enjoying the hols in France
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This was a great read!
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Thanks Jennie, so glad u liked it
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My Dear London Friend,
You never cease to put a smile on my face. Your story is delightful! Love the opening line!
I hope life is treating you well. 😊
xx
Rosary
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Hello Rosary my New York friend, so nice to hear from you again. Thanks for liking the story, and glad I raised a smile. I’m fine, just finishing latest book, new hero. Will take a look at your twitter to RT stuff for you, hope you still writing XXX Geoff
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Thank you Geoff! Unfortunately, I’m not writing but hope to get back to doing so. When will your new book be on Amazon?
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Hello again Rosary, sorry you’re not writing just now, hope you’re back soon. With this latest book I’m going to try with publishers (again) and will probably fail, and if so will self pub, but anyway will let u know.
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Geoff, I will keep my fingers crossed that you find a publisher! One way or the other, please do let me know once your book is launched as I’d love to read it. 🙂
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I really enjoyed this one, Geoff! Nice bit of irony! In fact I have this problem too…can I tell you about it? 😄
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Thanks, yes Val, let’s have a long long chat…I’ll bring my sleeping bag!
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Haha, I’ll bring the caffeine and the matchsticks to keep you awake 🙂 x
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Pingback: A Sympathetic Ear by Geoffrey West | Sue Vincent's Daily Echo
Thanks again for rebloggin, Sue, had so many reads, so kind
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This is so funny. I really enjoyed it.
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Thanks very much, really kind of you to say so
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Great story…or is it a story ? I have known people who burden themselves with other’s problems…maybe not to this degree. Still.
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Hello van by the river, thanks so much. Yes it’s certainly a story, based on exaggerated fact, funnily enough I often find people tell me their problems but luckily not to this extent!
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Thoroughly good read but I have a problem with the ending which I feel you may be able to help me with.
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Hello Bobby thanks so much. What’s the problem with ending that I can help you with?
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That was a joke really, think about it
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I loved your post! A touch surreal, very funny and touched with pathos.
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Thanks very much Jan Malique, really kind of you to say so
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I meant it, made me laugh out aloud.
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Reblogged this on anita dawes and jaye marie.
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Very good of you to reblog it Anita and Jaye, thanks a million
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Loved it. Chuckling in a pub near Newby Bridge and everyone’s looking at me… and the dog.
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Wonderful Steve, thanks for saying. Hope your dog enjoyed too!
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A warm humorous story dished up with a light deft touch. Really enjoyed it
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Paul and Russ thanks so much for the comment. Jack meets some very strange characters to whom weird things happen!
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A humorous tale reminiscent of a Monty Python skit. Quite funny!
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thanks Eliza, much appreciated
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