Cynara's Note # 44 1972.

There was a racket going on in the lounge of the locked ward. Bessie was bashing up the woman who she claimed stole her wash bag. Three nurses got her away and another injected her to sleep. They locked her in the cooling down room. I watched the brief excitement standing by the window smoking a cigarette Bridget gave me. I had a letter from a friend who was getting married in July and hoped I would be there. I hoped so too. After dinner half a dozen of us were taken for a walk in the grounds of the hospital. It was good to breathe fresh air again away from the confinement of the locked ward. The weather was dry but cold. Alun walked next to me talking about his stay in Paris where he went to be an artist, but ended up back in the hospital after his mental breakdown. On the other side of him was Vincent who was in deep thought, but Alun couldn't see Van Gogh but I did though.