When I lived in Clapham, the house opposite was a "halfway" house converted into flats with 4 blokes in who used to live at St George's, before they closed it down and sold the land for yuppie hutches.
Same cycle over the 6 years I lived there. They'd get released from hospital, be OK for a couple of weeks, then stop taking the meds, get progressively more barking till the men in the white coats came and took them away again. Then the council men in white coats would come and empty, fumigate, clean, decorate and re-furnish. Few days later, we'd start all over again. And again, And again.
When I lived in Clapham, the house opposite was a "halfway" house converted into flats with 4 blokes in who used to live at St George's, before they closed it down and sold the land for yuppie hutches.
Same cycle over the 6 years I lived there. They'd get released from hospital, be OK for a couple of weeks, then stop taking the meds, get progressively more barking till the men in the white coats came and took them away again. Then the council men in white coats would come and empty, fumigate, clean, decorate and re-furnish. Few days later, we'd start all over again. And again, And again.