The Godfather It was quite a change, my move from Psychiatry to Social Services. But I settled in and soon the past became a memory, as it always does. But there was a familiar name on the new referral. I remembered him well, at least his name and face, not why he’d been my patient - depressed maybe at his increasing physical disability. I couldn’t remember but I’d liked him. I rang him. He remembered me as well. He lived in the North End, in one of the tenement flats - 1930s built Art Deco style. They had quite a reputation - police went in twos with a dog, Social Workers in twos with an escort. And, of course only the insane would park a car there. It was a shame they were authentic, could have been beautiful. “Park outside the main door,” he said, “no need to walk with all your stuff. You’ll be fine, I’ll see to it”. And I was. When I left, he told me to ring him before I went there again. he said we could have a cuppa and he gave me a wink, then another t...
