Thursdays.

[johnny9fingers]

Every Thursday I take an old school chum out for lunch. Unlike most of my other schoolchums, he's not successful, established, or even fulfilled in personal relationships. Sometimes he doesn't pay too much attention to personal hygiene. This is because, since eighteen, he has been a sufferer of a schizophrenic illness. He's now 47, though he looks older; the years of institutionalisation having taken their toll. He is a weekly out-patient at a local hospital, but lives in sheltered accommodation in a purpose-built apartment, from which I pick him up in my car to drive to a pub in the North Surrey countryside. The pub we go to, Botley Hill Farmhouse is a C15th pub, and because we have been regulars over the last year or so, we are well known. The staff are both kind and courteous, and know about my chum's eccentricities.

Over lunch I try to divert him from talk of the trillions of pounds various people owe him (record companies, publishers, governments etc), the number of times he has been killed and resurrected, the demons that beset him and plague him, or other less pleasant reveries which occupy his waking thoughts. Sometimes we talk of music. He was a brilliant guitarist as a young man; and on the occasions we play together one can still discern the remnants of a fine technique and musical understanding. But then he is liable to claim he wrote all of the Beatles' songs and travelled in time to adopt the identity of John Lennon. That is of course when he's not being Jimmy Page or David Gilmour.

Let us call him 'Poor Mad Felix' though Felix isn't his name: but then again Johnny isn't my name either, so that's all right.

Felix and I were in a band at school. From what was the third form we had a strong friendship. I knew his girlfriends and his family; his friends were also my friends; his enthusiasms were shared between us all, as I suppose were mine, and Juan's, and Kenton's. The four of us became the school bridge team, brewed homemade cider with apples from Juan's father's orchard, worked on Kenton's Triumph Spitfire, and dreamt of girls.
Juan is now at the Rutherford Lab. He married a childhood sweetheart, Janet (whom we all knew, and were all enamoured of to various degrees) and has four children. Janet is a Don at St Hilda's Oxford, though has been off for some years: four kids can do that.
Kenton also married a teenage sweetheart, who co-incidentally had been at the same convent school as Janet. He has been a director of a few firms in his career thus far.
I've bumbled about doing this and that, being a musician.
And Felix....well Felix's testimony is a trifle erratic, but that doesn't mean I'd swap experiences with him for all the money and fame in the world. He has been in and out of hospital for almost thirty years.

Buying him lunch on Thursdays ain't a hardship: I wish I could do more. Well I may have found a way.
Felix had an idea for a book. He thinks he's already written it, mainly because if he thinks of something, as far as he is concerned it has happened. It is a children's book that will need illustrations. Two hours ago I spoke to my chum Cressy, who apart from being a brilliant singer, and a toff, and a working mother, and married to my present Bridge partner, is also an illustrator of great talent. Putting the case to her I suggested a three-way split: I'd do the writing, she'd do the drawing, and Felix would take a third for the idea.

Bingo.

We may just be able to find a way to get Felix a bit of money for his old age.

Comments

[johnny9fingers.livejournal.com]

Thanks. He's had a fantastic idea. (The thing is he has them regularly, but can't distinguish between the fantastic and the....not so very good at all.)

Can't reveal it yet but....fingers crossed.

[mister-bitters.livejournal.com]

I'm not normally an emotional chap, but I have to admit to being a bit over-wrought by this. My wife's aunt is also schizophrenic and I've watched over the years what a toll it takes on her, her family, and most importantly, her aunt. I truly wish this endeavor success. It sounds as if it would serve a very good purpose in an otherwise besotted world.

[johnny9fingers.livejournal.com]

He's an old chum.....Whatever else we can be in the world, we can be loyal to those we have known and loved.
Even if nothing comes of it, I suppose there will always be Thursday lunchtimes.

[tripinthehead33.livejournal.com]

As someone who was wrongfully drugged, and institutionalized as a schizophrenic, which I am not, I can feel his pain. That is a mighty good thing you are doing for him, simply by taking him out into the world and having lunch with him on a regular basis. For one who was nearly killed twice, and has many, many long term side effects from 2 years being drugged the same as a schizophrenic, I cannot fully describe what those drugs do to a person. Not to mention how you are a treated by the staff, even the kind and "understanding" staff. Let alone the old methods of treatment from the 70's. I hope you can make this idea of his come to life, something to anchor the man into reality that which has sprang from his mind.

The thing about folks like him? If they aren't worked around gently to reality on a very regular basis, they drift, and can become lost. If the people around him aren't engaging him in the here and now all of the time, he'll stay lost in his "fancies" as some might call them. I had a close friend with a similar problem, only instead of being mildly strange and eccentric, he was a crook, and malicious with his actions. Taking out his frustrations from his situations on those who cared most about him, because well, we wanted to do what was best for him, and trusted him openly. I used to do things like what you do, I funded his dream job, and I would take him out for lunch and help him with whatever he needed. He lost everything, including his marriage, and his 3 children between 2 women, due to his issues.

Despite your friend being institutionalized all of this time, at least he's still go you and perhaps others? My old friend burned all of his bridges, including the ties he had to his own mother with his actions. He's been cast adrift in a lonely ocean of his own making, and too proud when lucid to meet anyone halfway and ask for forgiveness, or attempt to make things right. If he did so, we all would likely go out of our way to help him again.

If you manage to accomplish this, I have a friend who's got a little girl who's about 2 years old, and a second little one on the way who might appreciate a book like this. Let me know when you've got it set up, I may order a copy.

[johnny9fingers.livejournal.com]

He and I have been chums for years. Once or twice a year I'll take him to Oxford to see Juan, Janet, and the kids. Most of the time Kenton and Susan leave Gloucestershire to rendezvous with all of us, and we have a reunion of sorts complete with wives and kids. Felix isn't married, but he has had a number of lady-friends over the years.

Thankfully Felix gets on with The Wife, and she finds his eccentricites just a factor in his personality. He also has a large family who have him over for Sunday lunch and try to ensure he takes care of himself on a much more regular basis than I could manage.

As an aside, I'm a pretty good guitarist - in my day, and when I was in proper practise I was....I could have been a contender. When we were eighteen or so Felix was tallest poppy by a country mile. None of us came close. You can't forget that sort of thing. Added to which he was one of my best friends. Buying him lunch, as I've said before, isn't any great hardship.

Will let you know as and when the project has finished. I think the idea has legs, as the phrase is.

[e4q.livejournal.com]

that sounds lovely.