D'Arcy Developments

Last Saturday (week and a bit ago) D'Arcy and I were outside our house, when a bloke rode up on his bike, singing loudly (songs from The Wizard of Oz). He said hello, and we replied. He stopped and started to chat, and it became obvious that he wasn't going to go away fast. It was also obvious that he wasn't quite the full quid. He had no shoes, and was self conscious about the fact that his tracky pants were pulled up to his knees, revealing his battered looking legs. He pulled them straight and said "sorry, I cut them shaving" "??" I said, and decided that we should terminate the conversation. It looked like he was going to ride off, but then doubled back to ask D'Arcy about his trike, especially the trailer bit on the back, saying "I want to give you something to put in it" and pulled something out of his pocket (his underpants, it turned out) "in fact, I want to give you all my clothes" so he did. Took them all off. "No thanks mate" I said, and picked up D and took him inside, locking all the possible doors. CNG (as he became known) started banging on the carport door, then on the house door, then on the windows. Meanwhile I was ringing the mental health crisis team, to be told "you should ring the police (you idiot - no, they didn't actually say they, but it was implicit in their tone of voice)" so I did. And my mum. Mum was great, came really quickly, and stalled CNG after he came out from the neighbours and got himself dressed. He cheerfully told her his name and address. Finally the cops showed up and talked to him, but not to me. They talk for ages and then vanished, I was left not knowing the final score, so repaiedr to mum's for the night. D'Arcy dealt with the whole thing pretty well, only getting upset when I completely fell apart. His questions were all of the "why" nature, to be answered with "I don't know, and I don't think he knew why he was doing those things".

Finally went and hassled the cops on Monday to find out what happened. They were apologetic, and explained that he is someone they know of, no record of violence, just decides not to take his lithium when he starts feeling good, and then behaves inappropriately. And the address was not a fake. So I felt like I could go home again. It meant I got the agent to fix the busted front porch light. Yay. I can laugh about it now, but not at the time. It has got me thinking about mental health a whole bunch, which is not my favourite thing, but is kind of useful.