Today, as I was leaving the building where I am currently staying, I found myself walking down the stairs behind another resident who came from a different floor.

A little bit later, she turns around and asks “Do you live in this building?”

I’m unwell and have lost my voice.

So I voice “I have lost voice”.

“Oh, you are deaf”.

I whisper “No, I have lost my voice”.

I’ve become increasingly unwell in the course of the past three weeks and am currently having what are probably very bad asthma attacks. I’ve totally reached the end of my tether, in all possible manners.

I wish that I had never moved into that utterly dreadful and disastrous penal colony in Purmerend. That horrid place should come with a health warning. It’s a really nasty horrible place that requires an active death wish to make it tolerable because you’re expected to shut up and die there and don’t you forget it. (Actually, it should be closed down. It should be demolished.)

Thinking back to that horrible place tends to bring on anxiety