I’m busy writing a story. It’s about a boy, Tom, and the strange events that unfurl when he and his mate Eden encounter a spirit entity that resides at the bottom of a long disused well, in the grounds of a derelict asylum.
It’s all fiction, all that is apart from the asylum itself, High Royds in West Yorkshire, which allegedly still echoes to the sounds of the long departed patients. Victorian mental hospitals were, and still are, very daunting places. They were built in an age where there was little, if any, understanding of the illnesses the poor souls who were incarcerated within their walls.
Today, there is still much we can learn about mental illness, although treatments are now far more humane than they were in our fore-fathers day. But there is still a stigma attached to diseases of the mind and many people are still locked away to protect them, and us, from the damaging effects the diseases can cause.
The story is the outpouring of my thoughts about possible supernatural events that are the result of the history of the hospital, but writing down these thoughts has made me aware of my own feelings towards these poor people.
Mental illness is a terrible thing, for those affected and those around them. With the cases of depression and stress related illness rising as a result of economic pressures, we must be even more aware of our own feelings. We must show compassion towards the victims, they do not chose to be affected and fully deserve our sympathy and help. Who knows, one day it may be us who need that compassion.
The path to enlightenment involves a lot of learning, much of it about yourself.
I think I’m a pretty happy sort of chap, always joking around and generally enjoying life. But there are times when that just isn’t appropriate and the last couple of weeks have been such a time.
Working from the cottage today was like working in the middle of Paddington station. Everyone having somewhere to be, somebody to see, something to do, and all for the funeral tomorrow. And there I was, sitting in the melee and getting on with my work.
It’s been a rather sad day for me today. Not because it was my first day back at work after a very difficult week away, or because it was a Monday, or even because I was missing Bumble, though of course I was. It was because I had to step back from the process of organising Ivor’s funeral. Not that I think for one instant that it will be anything other than perfect, but I was finding it very hard to be at arms length all of a sudden.
Having had a few hours to rest, and to settle our thoughts and feelings, it became clear that now was the time to devote our efforts to those remaining. We needed to concentrate on spending time with Jill, and as Ivor had spend the last thirteen years in care, finalise the arrangements to move his effects.
At the back of our office, there is a small grass area surrounded by a wilderness of brambles and wild flowers. Last year, someone planted a very small apple tree which has a short piece of aluminium tubing next to it as a support.
The Search For Enlightenment 
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