Crooked house

Walking around the neighbourhood this warm sunny evening I was greeted by a man walking a dog. How was I? Fine. How was he? Not fine. So I walked with him for a bit. He tried to kill himself yesterday. The police fished him out of the river and the ambulance crew told him to sit down and have a good long think. It's all his fault: he's screwed up his life. Since Friday he's lost his wife, his mistress, his children, his home and his job. He was robbed yesterday. His mum's told him it's his own fault and washed her hands of him. He thinks his children don't need him and he doesn't talk to the oldest because he's a 'rude cunt'.

All the while, our local rough sleepers were walking past and cheerfully greeting him. Each time one was out of earshot he told me they were losers.

In the end he thanked me for listening and asked for some money for a drink so he could sit down on the bank of the river and have his good long think.

I wondered how long ago his mum started washing her hands of him, when I'd meet his oldest saying much the same about his dad, and how we break this circle.