Friday, 18 January 2013
Response 3: A glimpse of a man
The day started out like all the others. This facility thrived on routine. Breakfast through the slot in the door, battling porridge with a flimsy plastic spoon and the cocktail of drugs at medication time. Years ago Jack paid handsomely to acquire these psychotics; nowadays they were forced on him.
He shuffled slowly into his usual armchair by the window and waited for the rest of the ward to arrive. The nurse switched on the radio, filling the air with the same old insipid classical music. This was the sort of crap I’d put my kids down with Jack recalled.
Suddenly Arnold bolted for the radio. He cranked up the volume and switched stations replacing Beethoven with metal, transporting Jack to a time of packed stadiums, roaring crowds and life in a rock band.
“Get off the table and put down that walking stick” barked the nurse.
Back to reality.