The space around him cleared of detritis, at least for a few inches, enough for one person to get round him. That's my first thought, as I see him sitting there. I shudder to think what else lives here.Īnd then I turn the last corner, and see, seated in a chair in the eye of this storm, the king. Faintly, I can hear the rustling of other visitors, much more used to this sort of environment than I. I look down I am standing on paper and more rubbish.
#Bathtub diogenes syndrome full
This is a maze, a twisting, turning passageway through more rubbish books, more milk cartons, some still full of a brown, evil looking liquid that many years ago was milk, magazines, all piled high to the ceiling. I walk slowly and carefully along a corridor which would only fit one person.Īs I turn the corner, into the front room, I am stunned by what I see.
Telephone directories by the dozen, a television, numerous radios from way back when. I look more closely at the piles of rubbish as I pass - milk cartons from 1987, boxes of cereal and, strangely enough, Mcvites biscuits. Peering through into the dark entrance hall, I am struck by the mounds of books, boxes and bottles, stacked floor to ceiling.
I walk slowly to the door, with trepidation. I approach one of my colleagues and ask what the problem is, and he just shakes his head and points me towards the open front door. I am called to a man 'stuck in his house.' What on Earth? I arrive to find a whole heap of ambulance crews and fire crews, milling around an end of terrace house. A really fascinating, if also very sad, return to BASICS work:
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