Dear Mr Chilton....

You won't read this. Just like your daughter.

But here goes.

Firstly, your daughter Sarah Chilton ended our relationship after almost two years, by simply posting my front door keys back to me.

Do you think this was the best way to end our relationship?

Why couldn't she speak to me after all that time we had spent together?

Do you think this was a mature, rational way for her to behave?

The Crash (Part 3)

Oh Jesus. An institution.

All I saw at the end of our 240 mile journey to the other end of the country, was a long anonymous grey block of concrete, low level buildings. The Priory, it certainly wasn't.

“This is not going to work,” I thought, as we waited in the reception area, too tired to speak. 

We listened mutely as a departing member of staff chatted away in pidgin English at a receptionist framed behind a glass panel.

We could have been extra-terrestrials for all the notice that was being taken.

A man in white overalls finally came to meet us, with a beaming smile. Even in my insanity, it struck me as incongruous in the extreme.

Not appropriate, mate. Nothing to grin about.