Male pride or fear of losing their job?

17 November

A few weeks ago we were woken up around 7.30am by heavy banging on the outside of our wall, or so it seemed. However, it wasn’t our wall but the wall where are rubbish bins are kept. We have one of those large communal bins that all flats have, where work had started in replaced the old wooden doors and frames with new PVC ones. Very smart they look too. This morning we had a letter from our not-so-beloved council telling us that the work to replace the wooden door will start on 28 November. What a shower of wasters they are!

The mental health issue seems to have gone quiet again, perhaps the election over the pond has pushed it out of the hacks minds. I was thinking about it yesterday afternoon and the thought came to me that one of the reasons that perhaps so many don’t seek help is that they might not know or realise or even perhaps care to admit that they do have a mental illness. That of course is all down to the stigma of the condition in my view.

I have a sneaky feeling that it’s us males who are the worst to admit to having any weakness at all. In these days though, where it’s difficult to get appointments with GPs, there may be some element of not wanting to bother the doctor. Another thought along those lines is that of having to take time off from work to go to the doctor. With all these zero hour contracts and agency work, booking a sick day or just ‘throwing a sicky’ will get a black mark next to your name. To tell your line manager that you are stressed or depressed will soon see you walking out the door for the last time, no matter how many safeguards in place against it happening. No wonder so many won’t admit to being ill, no matter what the reason is.

For those who have been diagnosed with mental illness, there is certainly a lack of care in the community. All too often we see and hear of cases where the police are called out because of someone who is out of control. They either arrest the person or talk them into going to A&E, who discharge them back out onto the streets, just where they started off before. Someone seeing this happening is unlikely to want to be treated in the same way, so they keep quiet. The first time we hear of them is when they have a really bad mental breakdown and someone gets hurt. Then all the shouting and screaming about resources and lack of understanding becomes louder again; until something else comes into the news that throws the subject back to a minor story on page 8 of the Sun or something.

Anyway … there is was lying in bed reading a Tony Hill novel and he goes out and buys himself cod and chips … of dear, my mouth is water again at the thought of eating cod and chips out of the wrapping. Sadly though, most of chippies are closed at 11.15 and those are open are pretty crap anyway. Besides which Jan wouldn’t get up and get me some. What a meanie eh? Ah well …

Today’s photo … wall decoration in pub in Selly Oak, Brum.

Today’s funny …

What agency tracks down lost vicars?
The Bureau of Missing Parsons.