Cynara's Note# 48 1972.

The morning came and it always disappoints me. I dressed slowly watching the other women in the women's dormitory dress for the new day. I sat in the lounge of the locked ward waiting for breakfast or whatever the cook conjured up labelled as such. After breakfast I walked up and down the passageway stopping now and then to gaze out at the grounds below and beyond covered in frost. I hate Mondays. Alun drew a picture on the wall of the men's toilets. He said it's was his interpretation of the Mona Lisa. The shrink said when I saw him in the afternoon that I was still not ready to go home. I sat there staring at him giving him visual daggers. Vincent stood by the window looking out humming to himself. No one else saw Van Gogh there. I spent most of the rest of the day depressed and wanting my bed nibbling at the awful tea. Loony Lucy sat beside me in the lounge watching the braincell destroying TV and her kissing me.