Like poverty, filthy and Haughey, depression is a dirty word. I've always felt there was something a little astray with me. After Tina left i decided to address it. I picked up my mobile and called Dr. Kelly and made an appointment to see him. Three hours later i was sat opposite him.
Kelly was a beast of a man, rounded by some twenty stone with a shallow face and moustache. His hair was greying but his moustache, which obviously took pride of place on that particular face was easily identified as having a weekly Just For Men makeover. I've often heard that people with money were among the mangiest that mothers manifest and it was due solely to this though that i assumed the bottle treatment extended no further from his lower nostril and never reached his head. But then again, what would i know? I never had much money and went bald quite early.
I explained my condition to him.
'You're sad' he bellowed. Kelly spoke with all the menace of a ringside announcer.
'Tell me something I don't know' i thought to myself. My wife, Tina, had just left me, citing that marriage was not what she believed it to be. Just like that. Gone , like a knacker thief in the night. So of course i was sad. I loved that girl.
Of course it was not the sad i thought he meant. He went on to explain that my mood may be affected by seasonal change. Given i live in a country where all seasons can be seen in one day it hardly surprised me.
'You need light and lots of it' he proclaimed , his moustache peppered with particles of his own saliva by now. He went on to explain the condition to me.
'You may be bi-polar or maybe clinically depressed', Kelly uttered with all the vocal noise he could muster. I was sure they heard out in the waiting room.
'But I'm going to hedge my bets on Seasonal Affective Disorder and treat accordingly. If symptoms persist , advise, and we'll go from there'.
Using his hand, which looked more like a foot, he scribbled a prescription and that night, just after supper, I swallow my first dose of Sertraline. I didn't have another hard on for two months, but then again, i didn't have the need for one. Kelly had advised that i strengthen the light in my place of residence and to get as much sun as i could. In the sixty-one days i took Sertraline we had sun on nine occasions. I still don't know why, but once i finished what was prescribed to me, i never took another anti-depressant in my life. On the final day of the course i looked at the final tablet and told myself that maybe i could manage without them. That tablet is also in my safe. A little memento to those defining days that come around once in a while. I have never felt the need to take them again. I am kinda of the persuasion that each and every one of us are responsible for our individual paths to happiness and i just felt i didn't need a tablet to help me trudge along mine. Pity it was not the mind-set of everyone.

Leon's dad Miles was a wicked bastard. Alcoholic in the extreme he was a mere forty when he was incarcerated on a charge of attempted murder. It wasn't long until he fell under the spell of heroin on the inside. He was never one to take a casual approach to substances he overdosed only seven weeks in to a fifteen year stretch. Leon was 18.
By this time we had took to hanging out a lot. I was always the subject of much ridicule from Leon. It said it made him feel better about himself. Luckily i was able to give it back in equal measure , i think that's why our friendship worked so well. Nothing was off limits, family, friends, church, state, government. You name it we had something to say about it. It helped us through our mundane days. Leon was working at a local butcher shop serving his time. Three months in and he was already in trouble. Going to work unshaven and reeking of drink was frowned upon by his boss, a whiff of a man with teeth that overlapped each other, adding to his ghoulish look. A sexual encounter with a member of staff found Leon in Kilbride's office for a dressing down.
'Dress this down' Leon smiled as he extended his forefinger in the direction of a stunned Kilbride.
'Bet you'd love that in your ass'.
Leon was out of a job. But he did not care. That night he called by and asked to go for a walk. We walked over to the local church and stood looking at a statue of the virgin Mary, her hands outstretched, the pained look on her face telling us how it really was.
'Why, Leon asked, if heaven is so great why do all the people there all look so damn unhappy'
I didn't have an answer for him. My own religious believes ended when i was eleven, another one of those defining days when i converted to Atheism in a simple ceremony involving a knife, a rather large worm and some farva beans. I won't go into the details but it has always been one of the better decisions i have made and in may ways saved me the burden of Catholicism, which in one way or another is responsible for the downfall of many a good man ... and woman i guess.
'It moved'
'What moved?'
'The statue it moved'
I looked closely. Nothing.
'You're yanking my chain'
' On my Father's life , it moved'
I stared at the statue for what seemed like an eternity but nothing. Occasionally I'd glance at Leon expecting at any minute he's deliver another dead pan line making me the subject of his jokery. But he didn't say a word. We stayed there for hours, looking and staring but it never moved. When we finally left Leon was still adamant he had seen it move.

Within a week Leon was gone. Using what money he had he boarded a plane for London and i didn't see him again for two years. The day after he left a news report invaded my TV screen relaying a tale of a couple of old biddies who swore they seen a statue moving down in a little place called Ballinspittle, down at the arse end of Cork. It did shake me a little but toward bed time i had put it down to the fact little Ballinspittle was angling for an airport and i never thought about it again until now. The reason it came back into my head was earlier today i was going through some old boxes which contain the ramblings of Leon. Among the weathered papers i found a little holy bottle in the shape of the Virgin Mary. I thought it was odd. I wondered if it was a sign as well, I'm that type of person who believes in that kinda thing. I opened it, and blessed myself with the contents. I'm now sporting a bindi. Why? The bottle contained white spirits. If i believed in that sort of thing I'd swear Leon is having a right old laugh now up in Dunsink. And i may have to change my name again. I've always liked Raj.

I'm not sure what ever happened to Dr. Kelly. I know he left his practice when it came to public knowledge that he was exchanging mail regularly with Harold Shipman. His clientele disappeared almost overnight despite his protests that he was doing research for a true crime book. These things happen i suppose!