You begin to make yourself a coffee, you’re a tired Therapist for a mental Asylum. You weren’t expecting a visitor but an inmate knocks on the door, you spin around and set eyes on an older man with a sweet smile.

Hello, I’m sorry. I haven't booked in and I know your supposed to come to us but I couldn’t wait.

He had a strong Birmingham accent, deep brown eyes and a tubby figure. He was poking his head around the door, his hand resting under his chin.