---=== UTOPIAN DREAM ===---

by

Nigel S Allen

Chapter 4...Loon

By 1983 the symptoms of my mental illness began to appear. I slept very badly. The computer noise would go on in my head for hours, whilst lying in bed waiting to fall asleep. I would often wake up at night covered in sweat. My pyjama top would be saturated in perspiration. I would have to take it off and hang it up to dry for the remainder of the night. I always left the bedroom door open, whilst Karen was sleeping all right beside me, so I just could not understand why I was sweating so much.

During the winter months I was bored stiff, so the television provided a welcome relief. I did not get any enjoyment out of watching soap operas, probably because it bore no similarity to the truth, namely the social problems which I and millions of other people had to confront each day. For some reason my mind latched onto news and current affairs programmes. In fact the mid-day news on TV was the main reason for getting out of bed during the winter. We would watch the news sometimes four times per day. The problems I already had, coupled with the doom and gloom contained in world events shown on TV, began to form a potent mixture. My mind seemed to have geared itself to solving the human problems of the world, or at the very least, worrying about them. My mind did not appear to be interested in anything else.

I had always had a tendency to day dream, but now my thoughts became more serious and problematical. I began clenching my teeth when these thoughts became intense. It would happen anywhere, just sitting around at home, or even in a public house. I remember on more than one occasion clenching my teeth, afterwards noticing someone looking at me strangely from across the room. I would only stop clenching them when the pain in my gums became too intense, thereby alerting me to what I was doing. The whole incident would only last two or three seconds. My wife noticed these incidents and referred to them as my turns, often telling me afterwards to behave myself. I do not think that either of us took these occurrences seriously. By the time that I did, it was to be too late. Like most people, I was totally ignorant of human health matters, in particular stress related illnesses. Although I did not know it then, I had developed classic symptoms of anxiety. It had taken me over a year to get over the split with my previous girlfriend, Pamela. Before I met Karen I was very depressed, I was a sensitive and melancholy person. Now with all our problems on my shoulder, I simply could not afford to be depressed, since there was no one around on whose shoulder I could cry on. Instead of depression I was therefore to suffer from anxiety.

During early 1983 my in-laws came around more often. Always they would ask my wife whether or not she wished to go and stay at their place for a week or so. As we could not afford to go out anywhere exciting, and as living together twenty-four hours per day was a bit of a strain, I was glad to let my in-laws take her off my hands for a while. Unfortunately, every time I went to collect my wife, there was always hostility towards me, from her parents. It became clear to me that they were not content just to take Karen to Llangefni market, nor to see her on a Saturday afternoon at the Legion, nor even to have her stay with them for a week. It was obvious to me that they wanted her back for good.

On one occasion whilst Karen was staying with her parents, I phoned up Helen to say that I would be coming around to pick up my wife. I think it was Friday, December 17th, 1982, the day after I returned to Gwalchmai on the coach, from my NDT TOPS course, though I cannot be certain. Helen definitely told me that Karen was with her, so around I went. When I arrived Helen informed me that Karen was with her sister Gillian, and that her husband Glyn was at sea. To get to Gillian's was a long tiring walk across town, I thought. I noticed that Helen was smartly dressed in a dark suit and black boots, which I thought unusual, as she was dressed in evening wear, at mid-day. She told me that she had lost her wristwatch earlier that day, and asked me whether I had any idea where it might be, I was lost for words.

"Perhaps it's upstairs. Why don't we go and look for it," she said.

Realizing what she meant, I then said that in circumstances like this she should phone the police. After some persuading she finally telephoned the local police station, whereupon she was informed that her watch had been handed in.

I think the watch had been found in the market area, where she had evidently been shopping earlier that day. After telephoning one of her lady friends to tell her the good news, we both travelled in Glyn's car to the police station. Helen collected her watch whilst I stayed in the car. We then went to Gillian's bungalow, where I met a relieved Karen. I did not take Helen's offer to go upstairs, neither then nor at any other time, as I regarded it as an attempt to break up our marriage. I was always wary of her, and treated her with the sort of respect one would reserve for a black widow spider. During my engagement and marriage to Karen I was never unfaithful to her, apart from the slight indiscretions already mentioned. I must admit that on numerous occasions the establishment of a menage-a-trios, for the purpose of relieving my burden, did cross my mind but was dismissed, due to the presence of my dear old mother-in-law.

The visits from my in-laws increased, no doubt spurred on by tales of ill treatment of their daughter, as related by our ever vigilant next door neighbour. Helen would often complain about Karen's clothes.

"You should buy her more clothes," she would constantly bicker.

I found this annoying, since Karen had three times more clothes than I. I had bought her a new dress during our courting days, only later to discover that her mother had thrown it away whilst Karen was staying with her mum. "It was old fashioned," Helen remarked, unforgivingly.

All the clothes I bought for Karen were old fashioned according to her mother. It hurt me to hear those words. Not one bloody complement, not one, in all the years I knew the cow. My mother and I bought Karen a black, rabbit skin fur coat costing fifty pounds, of which we paid halves. I did not like buying my wife expensive clothes, as I would then have to remind her constantly to keep them clean, and then stand over her like a hawk, making sure she did just that. I was so loath to buy clothes, that I repaired two pairs of denim jeans belonging to Karen, and wore them myself. Naturally Karen, with little else to talk about, told her mother. The idea of Helen buying clothes for her precious daughter, only to see them being worn by me, really got under her claw.

As well as treating her like a pet, my in-laws also treat Karen like a child. Despite the state of her teeth, they insisted on bringing her large bags of boiled sweets. I would often remind my in-laws about their daughter's teeth, but they seemed to get a great deal of pleasure out of upsetting me. Month after month went by, and all the visits appeared to go the same way. Karen's parents would come out with their cliches.

"You're not feeding her right, she looks off colour!"

"Just look at the state of her clothes."

"What are you doing to this child?"

"You're not listening to me!"

And on, and on, and on it went, slowly wearing me down.

Helen never came to our place on her own, always with her husband Glyn, or daughter Gillian. They were under her spell, but I considered myself independently minded enough to resist her. I was not prepared to sell my soul to her for a quiet life. To do that would have meant to adopt a life of hate and vindictiveness, something which did not come naturally to me. I found Helen's visits mentally destabilizing. She had a habit of coming out with one of her cliches, then turning to whoever she was with.

"That's right isn't it?" Helen would say.

Her companion would automatically agree with her. Even worse than that was when I said something. No matter what it was Helen and Glyn would do their best to ignore me. If I persisted then Helen would turn to her companion and retaliate.

"Well that's a stupid thing to say isn't it?" Helen would state, commanding an instant act of allegiance from her companion.

This would be followed by an immediate affirmative response. I found this tactic mentally disturbing, as if they had walked over my own grave. I would often wonder, after these visits, whether I was loosing my sanity.

On June 7th, 1983, I went to see my family doctor, not just to get Karen's monthly supply of tablets, but also for a check up on my heart. By this time I was getting pains in the upper left, side of my chest, and I reasoned that it was something to do with my heart, possibly angina. The doctor took my blood pressure but did not tell me what it was, although I did see him write it down. It was my first experience of the medical profession's main preoccupation, tell the patient as little as possible. The trouble with that attitude is that it deters any further verbal response from the patient, who feels that he or she is being fobbed off. Dr.Owain did not seem alarmed by the blood pressure reading. I did not tell him about my mental symptoms. By this time I was worried about what he might say if I told him. I felt that my in-laws were trying to drive me into a mental hospital, and that was something which I was not prepared to let happen to me. I had my wife to look after, reinforcing my determination in ensuring that my in-laws evil did not prevail over my righteous lifestyle. In any case I never liked confiding in doctors, as I regarded it as an admission of weakness, a view which I wish I still had.

On Tuesday, August the second, Helen and Glyn came around to see their daughter. The result being that Karen went back to Holyhead to stay with them for a few days, it being understood that I would collect her at the weekend, since only on one occasion did they return her, after a period of two weeks. On that particular occasion I was simply too sick of the sight of my in-laws. They probably felt after two weeks, that they had been conned, as I never paid them for looking after her. Anyway, on Saturday, August 6th, I went around to pick up my wife, whereupon a right ding-dong developed between me and the grim pair. Although it is mentioned in my diary, I cannot remember the details, as I think my mind had already taken as much as it was going to.

By now my nights asleep were to be dominated by my new mind. Instead of waking up covered in sweat, I would now lash out with my right fist at the air around me, often causing my entire body to rotate in bed, followed by heavy breathing as a means of compensating for the enormous loss of energy in a brief moment. My wife, unable to comprehend the seriousness of the situation, would simply tell me to behave myself and go to sleep. I have no idea of what I was thinking of when I lashed out, Indeed it is rare for me to remember my dreams, on the odd occasions that I have them. During the years I lived at Sunny Dale, I do not believe that I had any dreams, at least not in the usual sense. Even today I am not sure what these happenings were, some sort of 'night terror' I suppose, but at that time I was totally ignorant of the danger that I and the people around me were in. It seems to me that in a world dominated by unemployment and the stress which it generates, tax payers' money would be better spent in schools teaching human physical and mental health, plus the ins and outs of the welfare benefits' system, instead of anything more advanced than the three R's. School children would be forgiven in thinking that a course in the DHSS's benefits system is equivalent to a degree in lunatic science.

Initially, to relieve the stress, I started shouting at Karen, I am sorry to say. Her natural instinct was to go to the phone box, and tell mam. This would only make matters worse, as her parents would come around asking awkward questions.

"What's going on then, say?" Glyn would ask suspiciously.

To which I would reply, "Nothing!" and wish the ground would swallow them up.

To overcome this problem, I started shouting at myself. This only helped to make my mental condition worse. On one occasion I became tired out simply by screaming to myself, and went to bed early, leaving Karen in the lounge.

Unknown to me, my wife then went up to the local public house and phoned her parents, who promptly came around to the pub, to listen to and drink with their daughter. I only knew about it when the headlights of their car appeared in the bedroom window. Fortunately my in-laws did not come in. They probably could not make hide nor hair out of what their daughter told them, for they were not a very intelligent pair.

Helen had a way of asking a question, but before I had a chance to think of a reply, out would come another of her cliches.

"What's wrong with you. Why don't you answer?" said Helen with her lashing tongue.

She treated her daughter Gillian the same way. Helen enjoyed keeping everyone on their mental toes. Helen was more than a typical nagging mother-in-law. She was a vicious scheming woman, whose ability to twist the truth to her own advantage, came second nature. She exerted an evil influence over her husband and daughters. I always thought of her as a witch. On top of the toll house, near our village, stood a weather vane, consisting of a witch riding a broom, accompanied by a black cat. I would often point this out to Karen as we went by on the bus.

"There's your mam," I would say.

Karen would smile at this, but in reality, it was no joke. I had never met anyone before who possessed such evil cunning, as Helen.

Helen's hobby was her spite, for she had no interests. She did not even read books, nor magazines. The only likeable interest that my mother-in-law had was her devotion to pot plants, which she kept in the porch. It appeared that she channelled all of her energy into destroying everything descent, including my marriage. I am quite certain that she tried to subject my wife's life and my own, to the same miserable existence as hers. I realise now that she was prepared to go to any lengths to achieve that aim, of that I am certain. To her it became an obsession, and I am sure that she tried to get her husband to feel the same way, though whether he was a willing partner, I do not know. It could be that he totally underestimated just how far his wife was prepared to go. Anyway, wherever she went, he was sure to follow. It was to become a fanatical obsession, to hell and damnation. But for whom?

From my point of view, there seemed to be no way out of the problem, and as a result, my mental condition got worse.

One day my mate Bill came around in his second hand mini. He had been unemployed sometime, but as he lived miles from nowhere, in a bungalow surrounded by farm land, he really needed a car. For about a year we had not seen much of him, as like mine his car had become a wreck. Whilst he was talking to me and Karen in the lounge, Helen and Gillian turned up. They parked the car at the bottom of the road as usual, but for some reason, did not come to the front door. Looking out of the window, I noticed that they were sitting on the wall across the road from our front gate. I told Karen and Bill, that if they were going to act like that, then we would wait for them to come to the front door. Since I did not want them to take Karen away, I made plans to counter this.

"We'll tell them that we're meeting friends up at the Gwalchmai Hotel, at 9pm," I said to Bill and Karen, who agreed to the plan.

Eventually the pair of them came to the front door and were invited inside. I told them about our appointment, and they eventually left, long before the allotted time. There was no argument on this occasion, as no pressure was put on Karen to go back with them. Bill's presence had acted as a moderating influence, as Helen did not like being out numbered, and certainly never liked witnesses to her dastardly deeds.

I adopted a very suspicious nature at this time, writing down the registration numbers of cars seen in the area. I was afraid that my in-laws would employ someone to spy on us. Since someone had followed me home once from work, I thought that anything was possible.

On the fourteenth of August, my mate Allan's yacht fell off its trailer as it was being towed along the motorway to Anglesey, and was badly damaged. At about this time I remember Karen and I going out with him and his wife, Pat. We called in at a yokel hotel by mistake, but decided to have a drink. A man at the bar evidently made a derogatory remark about us, and Allan made it plain that he was all set to have a fight with him outside. We all thought it was rather comical at the time, but the incident was to stay in the forefront of my mind. If he could make a stand, then why could not I stand up to my in-laws?

August twenty-ninth was carnival day in the village, although there was little to celebrate in Sunny Dale, as I was constantly on edge. By this time it did not take much to get me over the top. Something did it, I know not what. Biro marks on the settee, soap suds in the bathroom basin, a dirty carpet, or more balls of thread found in Karen's hand, which were once the towel. Anyway, whatever it was, it blew my mind as usual. I started ranting and raving in despair. Fluff shot out of the front door, like a bat out of hell. I then hit Karen in the small of the back, as she moved into the kitchen to escape my wrath. I did not hurt her, at least not physically. It was the first and only time that I hit her, in all the years we had known one another. It was the first and only time she cried. Her life with her parents had hardened her, but to have the only person that really loved her turn against her, was too much.

By now I had made a point of hiding our money, but somehow she managed to find some. She then sneaked off and telephoned her parents from the Gwalchmai Hotel. When I discovered her missing I knew that I would have to find her fast, in order to avoid another confrontation with the in-laws. I found her in the hotel, waiting by the telephone. I had to virtually drag her out of there before her mother arrived. I managed to placate her, after which I took her around to see our distant neighbours, Dennis and Hazel, whose bungalow backed onto a stream just one hundred metres from our home. There we carried on idle chatter, never daring to tell my friends the real purpose of our visit. During our stay there, Helen and Gillian came to the village, visiting the hotel, our home, and the carnival, without finding us. A couple of hours later we visited the carnival site, but by then it was all over. There was no carnival spirit for us. Although Helen failed to find us that day, I knew it was only a matter of time before she would come around again, and despite Karen's handicap, would somehow drag out the details of what happened, which I would then deny.

A few days later on September 4th, 1983, Allan gave us a lift to Birmingham, from where we travelled on to my parent's home. During our visit, we went with my mother on a day trip to London. Taking a launch from Westminster Pier, we visited the royal botanical gardens at Kew. It was a lovely sunny day, but the real reason for the trip was never far from my mind. I made many trips during this period, all for the same reason, to get away from the pressures back home, but eventually we always had to return and face the music. No matter how good that week was at my parent's place, it could not erase the memory in Karen's mind, of me hitting her. Eventually she told her mother, and the whole incident was blown out of all proportion, I had to deny, deny, deny as the pressure on my brain became enormous.

At one time Karen used to squeal with excitement, when it was time to go to bed with me. Those days were now sadly gone. She did not even snuggle up to me like she use to. After the first few weeks at Sunny Dale, there was no intimacy of any kind between us, after I discovered that her mother was interrogating her about our sex life. The constant pressure that accompanied unemployment, even stifled any joy for living. My problems seemed more important. Lack of sexual satisfaction was to be my self imposed punishment for failure. Karen did not question this. I suppose she felt that in some way she had failed me, but in reality, I had failed her. She did not understand the enormous pressures I was under. I had not married Karen for sex, but for companionship and purpose. I still loved her very much, and always will. God knows what she must have thought, when questioned by her mother and sister about her sex life. Her mind must have been a complete blank, because there was literally nothing to recount.

My in-laws nagging, the DHSS bureaucracy, my next door neighbour's bloody mindedness, unemployment, and looking after a mentally handicapped wife, with no one to share my problems, was a recipe for serious mental illness. Although I did not know it at the time, I was suffering from anxiety neurosis with at least two hysterical conversion or dissociation reactions, namely the fits and the computer noise in my head at night. Lashing out with my fists whilst asleep, was not an epileptic fit, but an unconscious psychosomatic symptom based on my own anatomical knowledge. In other words, my fits were based on what I had learned from Karen's epilepsy, although my fits were markedly different from hers. Such reactions are considered to be an answer to the afflicted person's problems. In most cases motor symptoms exhibit a 'flight' response resulting in paralysis of a limb for instance. In my case the reverse seemed to have occurred, resulting in a 'fight' response. As for the computer noise, this may well have been an unconscious attempt to convince myself that I was mad, and therefore not responsible for my actions. Just what those actions were to be, only time would tell.

In addition to the pains in my chest, I was also getting palpitations, intense feelings of nausea despite the good meals I was now cooking, and of course, disturbed sleep. All these were symptoms of stress, which as my illness progressed, were to be followed by many others, including depression. At no time however did I suffer from delusions or hallucinations. In other words, I was always fully aware of what was going on around me, even if I was not in full control of the situation. I was not to fully understand my illness until years later. Even then it was only through my own investigations. The medical profession told me little, and often what they did tell me I disagreed with.

My fits were a frightening thing for me to see, and no doubt scared the living daylights out of Karen in the end, even though she was use to her own fits. I did not dare tell anyone, not even my closest friends. Although I kept a diary, containing cryptic notes on a daily basis, I never referred to my illness in it, not even in code. During some periods I would mark down my wife's fits, but never my own. On one occasion I did right a remark about one of my fits, but possibly in one of my wife's diaries by mistake. The reference however, was never found by my solicitor.

Unemployment on Anglesey continued to rise. Officially it was around twenty-five per cent, but in my village it appeared to be much higher. There were many houses up for sale, often for years. Newly built homes were left uncompleted, whilst old abandoned homes slowly fell to pieces. It was a depressing sight. There was a great demand for council housing, since those living off the welfare state were not. allowed to acquire mortgages. Many redundant people bought old properties with their redundancy payments, then did them up with the help of home improvement grants. It was a means of keeping occupied whilst unemployed, but eventually the government stopped these grants. During the remainder of the time I lived in the village, Ann Davies' home remained empty and up for sale.

I felt a strong urge to get out of the village, and preferably return to Birmingham, but I knew it was pointless to put my home up for sale again. There were few industries on the island, Tinto being the largest. Many people from the village worked there. When the redundancies came, village life all but disappeared. The village hotel was the only public house in the vicinity. It use to have entertainment every Thursday night, but it was no longer the bustle it use to be, since few could afford to go there any more. The wad of DHSS allowance books in the sub post office seemed to get thicker and thicker, each time I went there to collect our new one.

I knew few people in the village. The sub postmaster I would talk to on occasion in the village hotel, but basically I had no close friends. No one really knew me in the village. My problems destroyed my will to enjoy life and make friends. There was little life left in me. To most people, I appeared sullen and unwelcoming.

On Tuesday, October 18th, 1983, Karen's parents came around, and as usual, she went off with them back to Holyhead. The following Saturday I met them all down the Legion, where I had a couple of pints of lager as usual.

We then went back to my in-laws home. I told Karen that I was going upstairs to pack her things, which I then did. Just after I had finished packing her case, Helen came upstairs and stood on the landing, blocking my path. She then went into what I thought would be a typical nagging session, but it went on, and on, and on, and on, without a break for at least five minutes. I just could not believe it. I think that if I had attempted to absorb what she was saying, I would undoubtedly have throttled her to death, or thrown her down the stairs. I knew Glyn was downstairs in the lounge. He must have heard everything, and yet he did nothing to stop it. As a man he was a failure, I had no respect for him whatsoever. I later realised that this orchestrated incident was designed to provoke me into becoming violent. This would then give my in-laws the excuse they needed to call the police, and have me put away, with the subsequent break up of our marriage.

During the nagging I switched off my mind, and tried desperately not to take any notice of what she was saying. The neighbours must have heard everything she was shouting, if they were in. God knows what they must have thought. Finally, exhaustion got the better of her, whereupon she again accused me of not listening to her. About an hour later we left my in-laws house, and took the bus home. Karen was upset, but I was literally in a state of shock for the next three hours. My whole body just would not stop shaking, as I sat in the lounge at home, wondering how on Earth it would end. I decided there and then that I was not prepared to take any more abuse, and in order to prevent it from happening again, Karen would never be allowed to stay at her parent's place.

Soon after this incident Helen and Gillian came around to see us at Gwalchmai. Karen went to the front door, Helen started telling Karen something about Glyn in a quiet voice. I walked across to them and politely asked Helen what was up. Helen looked at me with loathing, merely stating that Glyn had broken his arm. She said it as if it was none of my business. After more unwelcome questioning, it turned out that Glyn had been hit by a car a few nights previously, possibly October thirteenth, outside the Royal Navy Club, and that his wife had found him lying in the gutter a few minutes later. He had sustained a complicated fracture of the left arm. There planned trip to see Blackpool illuminations, was now cancelled.

I cannot say that I was distressed at hearing this news, since there were times when I wished they would both disappear off the face of the Earth. Why my father-in-law failed to die from cirrhosis of the liver, I could never understand, after all he drank enough. His drinking was no doubt to be the main reason why his injuries took so long to heal. The thought occurred to me that he had attempted suicide.

Thoughts of my in-laws was never far from my mind. They filled me with despair. I did not know what could be done, legally. In August I had gone to see my solicitor, Mr.Bumble, regarding my in-laws.

"I'm still having trouble with my in-laws," I said despairingly.

"Well I can't understand why you returned here after your marriage. What other problems do you have?" Mr.Bumble asked.

I presume he thought my remark was just casual conversation. Anyway, that was the closest the legal profession got to sorting out the problem, before violence took charge. I should have put my foot down and explained the situation to him, but instead I let the conversation drift to other matters, the DHSS and my next door neighbour. I never really thought that the legal profession could do anything anyway, and of course I always looked on the bright side, never thinking of the huge price I could ultimately pay for my complacency. I was naive in the extreme. I could not accept that some people could be so fundamentally different in their make up to that of myself, a man to whom evil does not come naturally. I was a firm believer in the phrase, 'every cloud has a silver lining', even a mushroom shaped one.

A week after the nagging incident, there was a gathering of the clan at Llandudno. Nearly all of Karen's distant relatives were there, with the exception of Gillian and her husband, George. Helen was there with her husband. It was Helen's birthday, a fact which I ignored. The gathering was to celebrate the anniversary of a couple from Haverfordwest, who did not realise that such a gathering had been planned. I admired their close knit relationship, as they all seemed to be a nice bunch of people. Why I thought, was I lumbered with the two black sheep? The outlaws stayed in the kitchen, where all the drinks were kept. Karen went in to see them, but they were not too keen to see me, so I walked over to the drinks table and stood next to a young man who was pouring himself a pint. Glyn then came over to us and told him that I was the one responsible for his broken arm. I could not believe what I was hearing. I thought it would be best to go into the other room for safeties sake. In the lounge I spoke to Pete, our host. I found it difficult to have a conversation when every day of my life was so drab and uneventful. No identity, no meaning to life, no thanks. Just an eternal struggle for survival, but for what? These were hardly the sort of topics one would like to talk about at a party. When I returned to the kitchen, it was empty, except for my wife and her parents. It was as if my in-laws were poles apart from the rest of their relatives. After an hour in the presence of my in-laws, we took the last bus home, which we managed to get to without incident.

Although I was not prepared to let my in-laws have Karen again, I could see no reason why she should not see them in the Legion on a Saturday afternoon. A month after the nagging incident, Karen and I met the outlaws in the Legion. At closing time, my wife and I went shopping as usual. It was normal practice for us to go around my in-laws' home afterwards, but because of the nagging incident I swore never to set foot in there again. As a matter of courtesy, I told Karen to telephone her mother, to explain to her that we were taking the next bus home, as we had some frozen food with us. Little did I realise that this kind gesture was like waving a red flag at a bull.

We went to the bus shelter opposite the legion, and waited for the 5-10pm N44 bus, which would take us home. There was an elderly couple in the bus shelter, but I did not know them. Suddenly my in-laws' car came to a sudden stop in front of us. The rear near side door was flung open.

"Get in Karen!" Helen ordered, to which she obeyed before I had had time to take in the situation.

I was having none of it. The time had come to put my foot down. Before they could drive off, leaving me at the bus stop with the groceries. I grabbed hold of Karen, but she was in a state of shock, so I climbed over her and sat next to her on the back seat. Glyn was in the driving seat despite having his left arm in a sling. Helen was in the front passenger seat hurling her fists and spitting spiteful language at me.

Glyn drove the car about five metres down the road, away from the bus stop. Getting out of the car, Glyn then opened the rear off side door, and attempted to pull me out by tugging at my upper right arm. Whilst this was going on, I was protecting myself from Helen's blows and clinging on to the driver's seat. Eventually Glyn gave up, returning to the driver's position, Helen also calmed down slightly.

"We've been married now for four years, can't you forgive and forget?" I pleaded in despair.

Helen replied in a determined voice, "No, I'll never forgive and never forget what you've done, never!"

She said it so firmly, that I realised that any hope of reconciliation, was now gone forever. Glyn just sat there and said nothing as usual. We sat there arguing as the N44 bus came and went. Eventually, Helen suggested that we all go back to their place, to which I reluctantly agreed. I went back to the bus shelter and collected the bags of groceries. If I had been given a choice, I would have waited an hour for the next bus, with Karen. That evening was to be the last time that I set foot in my in-laws' home. Fortunately for me, this incident was witnessed by the proprietor of the garage located opposite the bus stop. Her later statement to the police, I was never to see.

I had found the idea of adults arguing and fighting in the streets of Holyhead, very distasteful. I now realised that anything could happen to me in the future. As I undressed for bed that night I noticed a large bruise that went around my upper left arm, where Glyn had grabbed me. There were also scratches on my hands, which was not unusual after being attacked by Helen. Little did I realise that the main damage was to my mind itself. After that incident we never went to Holyhead in the daytime again.

I had now been unemployed for three and a half years. The attendance allowance did not seem to make our lives any better. It could not cure my current problems, and besides, no amount of money was sufficient compensation for not having a job.

A job that provides financial independence from state bureaucracy.

A job that creates a positive attitude to living.

A job whose competitive nature takes away the stress of a monotonous lifestyle.

A job that through absence from home, takes away the stress of constantly living on top of one another.

A job that gives one an acceptable identity in society, and a purpose in life.

And above all.

A job that replaces a sedentary lifestyle and associated obesity.

A job where one can meet, people and develop friendships, and not become inward looking and hence susceptible to mental illness.

To me these things were all as important as the allowances we were getting. My in-laws never got onto me about not having a job. I'm certain that they wanted the problems of unemployment to destroy our marriage.

After the bus stop incident, I did my damnedest to avoid the outlaws wherever possible. On sunny days, when it was likely that Helen would come around, we went on long walks through the monotonous countryside. On one day we walked six miles south to see the huge sand dunes on the coast. It was the first time I had seen them since scrapping my car, three years before. I well remember lying on the sand soaking up the solar energy, before making that six mile walk back home. My feet became numb on the way back, but from Karen, there was not one word of complaint. She never ceased to amaze me. Needless to say, we stuck to gentler walks after that. As part of my plan to avoid Helen, we went shopping in Bangor on the Saturday afternoon, then that evening, using the same day rover tickets, we would go to Holyhead for a drink, giving Karen a chance to see her old school friends.

I use to worry over everything especially appointments. My 1983 diary at this time read: November 21st, get pills for Karen, November 22nd, see solicitor, December 8th, cassette recorder broke, December 12th, visit from planning department, December 13th, visit from DHSS, December 19th, pills for Karen.

At Christmas 1983 my parents went to Torquay. I was determined that we would not be spending it at my in-laws. I therefore devised a plan. I told Karen that we would be going to my parents for Christmas. This she then told her mother during one of her visits to our bungalow, and was accepted as the truth. That Christmas was without a doubt the most stressful I have ever had. In case the in-laws drove past, we kept the Christmas tree lights off during the day, with the curtains drawn early at night. We slept in the small bedroom at the back of the bungalow, out of sight from the main road, so that they could not see the bedroom curtains drawn early in the morning. I spent most of Christmas looking out of the window, expecting them to turn up at any minute. It was the longest and most intense period of stress thus far.

After my parents returned to their home from Torquay, we went to stay with them. From there, Karen phoned her mother to explain to her how she had been duped. I think Karen got a great deal of pleasure out of stirring things up between me and her mother, little realizing the damage she was causing. During our stay down there we went to see the boat show at Earl's Court, London, where my dream of sailing far away from Great Britain ran riot in my mind. Whilst in London we also visited a holographic exhibition at the Science Museum, which Karen enjoyed. After visiting the Which Computer Exhibition at the NEC, Birmingham, we returned to Gwalchmai, picking up our baby, Fluff, from the cattery.

Immediately upon our return to Gwalchmai I set about tackling our problems, writing everywhere, and arranging appointments. On February the thirteenth, I wrote to the local bus company about the time keeping of their buses. The previous Saturday night we had missed the last bus home from Holyhead, as it departed ten minutes early. This necessitated a taxi ride home, costing six pounds. This was the sort of expenditure not covered by basic social security. Needless to say the bus company refused to reimburse the taxi fare.

Looking through the numerous copies of letters I sent out to various government departments, is one that I never sent out, but which underlines the frustration I felt at this time. It is a four page letter to the invalid care allowance unit at Norcross, near Blackpool. I will spare you the complicated details, by reproducing the last three paragraphs only. It reads:

It has now been two years since I applied for invalid care allowance, and I can see no reason for this delay, which is preventing our higher rate of supplementary benefit from being awarded.

I have complained to my local MP about this delay. I can see no reason for it, particularly as any meaningful decisions have been made by other DHSS departments.

I can only hope that Chancellor Nigel Lawson's budget announcement of further civil servant cuts, is applied to the ICA unit first 'to improve efficiency'.. Should you have any further bureaucratic questions, please do not be afraid to ask, preferably before my old age requires me to employ home help!

The ICA unit had upset me by sending another letter requesting more details about my past. As far as I was concerned they had enough details with which to compile a photo fit picture, if necessary. I never sent the letter as the next day I was informed that ICA would be awarded soon. The arrears were issued on April 26th, 1984, but the DHSS sent the wrong giro cheque to me, four hundred and forty seven pounds for a Mr.Kelly instead of two hundred and seventy three pounds for me. As things turned out, the obstinacy of the DHSS paid off in the end, as I never did get the chance to enjoy spending the money. It was finally spent on my behalf.

On the fourteenth of April I received a giro cheque for backdated HNCIP, amounting to six hundred and eighty six pounds. We had received a number of these backdated payments, and quite frankly, I would not know whether they were correct or not, since I never understood the system, and I got the impression that few civil servants understood it either.

The letter to my member of parliament did however appear to be speeding things up. I had written to him on February the third, as my last desperate attempt to bring these proceedings to a swift end. The story that I remember most about him referred to his visit to Tinto, to sound out the views of the workers, prior to a general election. One of them yelled out to him a particularly pointed remark.

"Apart from killing your secretary in a car crash, what else did you manage to achieve?" he said, so I was told.

This was a reference to a car crash on the causeway, during which the MP drove his car into the back of a lorry at night. Whether the lorry was, or was not, displaying lights at that moment was brought into question. The court found in the MP's favour, fining the lorry driver heavily. To the nation he was known as one of Mrs. GG's prodigies, who had to stand down at the next general election, after committing the illegal act of submitting multiple share applications during the government's sell off of nationalised industries. At his subsequent trial, he escaped a prison sentence by a hair's breadth. But, I believe there is good in every man. The day to day work of an MP is unglamorous and little advertised. He helped me as I'm sure he helped many.

On March 28th, 1984, I received a reply from the DHSS, Elephant & Castle, London, via my MP. The two page letter reads as follows:

DHSS London March 1984 Dear Sir, In reply to your letter dated 10-2-84, and that of Mr.N.S.Allen of Sunny Dale, Gwalchmai, Anglesey, concerning his claim for invalid care allowance, and his wife's claim for attendance allowance, supplementary benefit (higher rate) and housewives non-contributory invalidity pension. Mr.Allen claimed invalid care allowance in April 1982 for looking after his wife. He stated that he wished to claim benefit from that date. Invalid care allowance is to some extent compensation for loss of earnings, and is not intended as payment for services rendered. As a rule, only one main social security benefit is paid to meet the same contingency. I am sure you would agree with this. From September 1982 Mr.Allen received 59 pounds per week during a training course, precluding him therefore from receiving invalid care allowance. Although he was awarded ICA from April 1982 to September 1982, payment was withheld against supplementary benefit, which he was receiving at this time. National insurance credits were however awarded during this period. In May 1983 Mr.Allen put in a second claim for invalid care allowance, requesting backdating to October 1980. He was evidently not aware that his wife had been receiving attendance allowance prior to their marriage. Mr.Allen's claim for supplementary benefit in January 1981 has been treated as a claim for invalid care allowance, and allowance from October 1980 is therefore being considered. Mr.Allen received unemployment benefit from December 1980 to August 1981, and was on a training course from September 1982 to January 1983, as already mentioned. During other periods he was receiving supplementary benefit. It has taken a long time to determine which periods Mr.Allen qualifies for invalid care allowance, owing to the length of time necessary in which to collate the information. As Mr.Allen has been receiving various government allowances since October 1980, it is unlikely that any arrears of invalid care allowance will be due. Mr.Allen has been asked to submit more information regarding the above periods, after which he will be notified of the outcome. Concerning backdated attendance allowance. The papers were submitted to the local appeals tribunal in January 1984, and Mr.Allen will be notified of the date and time of the hearing. Regarding the claim for supplementary benefit, Mr.Allen was receiving this from April 1983, as he was looking after his wife at home. On the 22nd November legislation changed, enabling either spouse to be the claimant. The claim was therefore made in his wife's name. Assessment was lengthy owing to the time taken to recover Mr.. Allen's claim for supplementary benefit. On December 13th, a visit from the DHSS was made to Mr.. Allen, in order to determine his financial and arrears have been paid in full. I am sorry regarding the length of time it has taken for Mr.. Allen's appeal for HNCIP to be paid before October 1982. This decision, made by the first of the independent adjudicating authorities, has been reviewed, and the award will now commence from Mr.. & Mrs. Allen's marriage. Before arrears can be paid however, it is necessary to obtain further records of supplementary benefit payments during this period. Norcross will write to Mr.. Allen when the necessary calculations have been performed. Although there are still questions to be resolved. I hope the above answers will be of assistance. Yours ever, A. Bureaucrat

What this letter failed to mention, was the fact that the matter would never have got this complicated if the applications for benefits had been processed at the same rate of efficiency, as one gets from a private commercial organization. The welfare benefits system was to be reformed in April 1988, but that was only one half of the problem, the other half being the minds that operated it. All the above benefits were replaced by the Conning Party government in the 2010's. They were almost all amalgamated into a universal benefit, with mortgage payments based on loans, not awards. Rent is also restricted. Benefits to independent youngsters banned, with the school leaving age raised from sixteen to eighteen, which also reduces the unemployment figures. This resulted in serious reductions and delays in payments, leading to many people being forced onto the streets by their landlords. Almost everyone ended up with huge debts, whilst the wealth of the world's billionaires increased exponentially. Thirty years have now passed, as I proof read this manuscript, and still politicians cannot think beyond capitalism and multi-party democracy.

In my neurotic and confused state, I found it very difficult to understand the letters I received from the DHSS. I had little patience and tolerance at this time. My speech became slurred, as my mental illness spread out along the pathways through my brain. On the sixth of April, I again wrote to Mr.Snail regarding the state of the road, whilst nine days later I wrote to the highways department of the county council, and the housing and property-department of the borough council. I became extremely agitated by lack of progress, as by now I had another source of stress to add to the fold. On the ninth of March my stepfather had collapsed with a possible heart attack, and was admitted to hospital. I liked him very much, as we got on great together. To loose him at that moment would have been an unbearable loss. It was a worry I could easily have done without.

My stepfather came from Nuneaton. He was an ex-postmaster, who was forced to retire at the age of sixty, and later became an accountant at a local leather tannery. He was in fact suffering from emphysema, a condition he would eventually die from, years later, in Blackpool Hospital.

Karen and I attended two weddings that month. Sonia's brother Allan, married Toni on the tenth of March at Llangefni registry office, whilst my mate Allan finally spliced it with Pat at Birmingham registry office on the twenty-fourth. Karen and I visited my parents at this time, to see my stepfather, who by now looked much better, after taking regular doses of warfryn. For me, our journey was also a desperate attempt to shed off the problems on Anglesey, however short lived. The wedding of Allan and Pat was a crowded affair, in sharp contrast to our own. It nevertheless brought back to Karen and I, happy memories of our own marriage in that building, three and a half years before. At the time I thought that our marriage would last forever and as the pressure mounted, I still desperately wanted it to be so.

In 1984 my mother-in-law came to see us infrequently, since she knew from her contacts, that Karen and I were shunning her by coming into Holyhead on Saturday nights for a drink. This was a snub to Helen, and could not be interpreted any other way. The fact that we no longer visited my in-laws must have been a clear sign to Helen, that I did not want to know her. Karen's attitude was more complex. She understood my feelings, and did not want any trouble, but on the other hand she needed parents who cared about her.

At one time my wife use to call me chuckles, as I would day dream a lot and smile at my own thoughts, but by now I was worn out mentally. My fits became more frequent, and more frightening, as the tension within me mounted, for I knew that one day my in-laws would come around again. The next confrontation over their daughter I knew would be very different. I had finally decided to do, what a man's got to do. Come what may I was going to stand firm. The decision had been made. Since the rest was up to them, the outcome was by no means certain. What was certain, was that I would have to be unpleasant, and that did not come naturally. The stress from that forthcoming confrontation was very intense and prolonged. By now I was not only shouting to myself but slamming the kitchen door repeatedly, in an attempt to release the energy locked up within me, much of which I would burn off at night, as I lay in bed covered in sweat. I was a human bomb, primed to explode.

By this time it was obvious to me that my mental problem was not going to get better, without considerable help from the medical profession, based on understanding by me. I did not have a medical book at home during these years, from which I could base that understanding. During my last visit to see my parents I bought a medical book in Northampton, which I came across in a book shop by chance. I thought that it would help me to understand not just my illness, but also the coronary thrombosis that afflicted my stepfather, and my wife's epilepsy. I remember referring to the book in conversations with my stepfather at the time. As for my illness, I scanned the book briefly, marking a couple of pages that seemed pertinent, but I never got around to reading them.

As for Karen, I do not think she liked the idea of helping herself. I had great difficulty in getting her out of the bungalow some days. She did not even want to go for short walks up to the village shop with me. I knew there were epilepsy group meetings in Bangor, but I could not get her to attend them. Her refusal to go anywhere worried me greatly, as I realised that it was a symptom of the stress we were both living under, and as such could get worse.

Saturday, April 2lst, 1984 was not to be a good day. It started off like any other Saturday. We bought our day rover tickets, then went to Bangor to do the shopping. I would read the magazines in W H Smith's, occasionally buying one. Browse through Woolworth's department store, then call in at Tesco's supermarket to buy our weekly consumables that would cost about thirty pounds. It would take me about thirty minutes to buy the food from there, before making a mad dash to the bus stop, to catch the bus home.

Upon our return to the bungalow, I would put all the groceries away, then walk out into the garden, strolling by the fish pond. I had bought some netting to put over the pond in order to keep the cats and dogs away, since some of my fish were inexplicably dying. I took a very close interest in my fish. Some lads had come around the previous day, wanting to buy one of my goldfish. I told them that I was not interested since I only had four. I did however tell them that I would be interested in some frog spawn. A year or two earlier I had seen hundreds of tiny frogs hopping around a large garden pond belonging to a friend of my mother's. I decided that this would be a great conversation piece, not to mention amusement to Fluff. Anyway, on this particular day, I not only found the pond polluted with sticklebacks, but also one of my goldfish was missing. I was not amused to put it mildly. It did not take much brain power to work out who the culprits were.

I left the pool side to sharpen the rotary mower blade, with a grind wheel which I had just bought. As I was sharpening the blade, the electric motor inside the power tool burnt out. I stripped down the power tool, but it became obvious to me that there was nothing that I could do to make it work. I decided therefore to make dinner. After preparing everything, I told Karen to keep an eye on it as it was being cooked. I went outside to put the mesh over the pool. By this time I was agitated, confused and under pressure to get things done before it got too dark. I already had some plastic mesh strung across the pool, which kept the dogs at bay, but I needed a smaller mesh for the cats. I removed the original mesh from the pool. As I unpacked the plastic bundle, I realised that the new mesh was the same size as the one I was already using.

My mind could not take it any longer, I went into a violent rage. I threw things about the lawn, then stormed into the bungalow shouting and slamming the kitchen door repeatedly, causing the door frame to move. Karen rushed out of the kitchen into the lounge, looking terrified.

"If your parents come around here again. I'll kill 'em! I'll kill 'em!" I screamed, with eyes ablaze with pent up anger.

Karen looked at me horrified, as I looked at her, disbelieving what I had uttered from my own lips. I knew it was not the real me saying those words, but my other self. I was exhausted, with a thumping headache. I now knew for certain that I would have to see my GP. I decided there and then that I would see him on the Monday, despite my fears of what he might do. Would he overreact by sending me to a mental hospital, or would he think that I was exaggerating my mental state, and infer that my in-laws were simply being over protective?

The next day, Sunday, produced some really good weather. I decided to tackle the weeds in the garden for the first time that year. My garden was never my pride and joy, since I was never satisfied with it. Doing the gardening was probably the only moment at Gwalchmai when I did not think of my problems. It required concentration throughout. It was back breaking hard work, but always pleasurable, especially at the end of the day when I could at last stand back and admire the improvements. The garden bore little resemblance to the time when we first moved in. The northern boundary was literally rock and barbed wire at that time. I had to dig out a twenty-five metre long dry stone wall running along the top of the bank, and rebuild it. Levelling the ground for the lawn was no easy task either, and neither was getting grass to grow on soil that was more like a pebbled beach. I cannot remember how many barrow loads of stone I removed. It definitely was not top soil, whilst being my first garden, I made the mistake of ordering my plants long before the ground was fit for them. As I beavered away day after day in the sunshine, my promise to see my GP slipped out of mind. For the first time in ages I felt really great.

I never grew vegetables, as I did not think the soil was good enough, whilst for much of the first year we had not been there anyway. On top of the bank I grew Chinese lanterns, lambs ears and lupins, which my mother gave me. I also planted some clematis there, which along with everything else, took years to get established. At the foot of the bank were fuchsias and lavender, together with numerous rock plants such as sedum, aubretia, santalina, dianthus and saxifrage. I also had a ceanthus edinburgh whose blue flowers I admired, until the raging winds from the sea blew it out of the ground. My pampass grass dried up and died, as did my dogwood and corkscrew hazel. My Cyprus trees,fared little better.

Since I was not there most of the time, the plant mortality rate was high. Some plants did well on their own accord, such as the dwarf conifer, buddleia, which did a marvelous job in attracting the butterflies, and my excelsa, the only rose which thrived despite not being planted against a wall. During the development phase of my garden, it had been a mad rush to get everything planted, just as the rest of my life was filled with impatience.

At the beginning of that week in April 84, I had placed orders for conifers and rock plants with two companies. I had cleared the ground near the garage which was in dispute with the builder, and intended to plant a row of conifers along this boundary, and along the top of the wall running along the builder's drive, in the hope that they would offer wind protection to my rose hedge, not to mention privacy. I worked continuously for five days on that garden. On the late afternoon of Thursday, April 26th, 1984, I finally completed my task. The garden looked great, with not one weed in sight. I was very proud of it, and could not wait for the new plants to arrive.

On that particular day, not only was the garden immaculate, but inside the bungalow everything displayed a sense of order. Even in my wife's wardrobe neatness ruled. All her overcoats were to the left, followed progressively to the right by her dresses, skirts and blouses. All of my papers from the DHSS departments, solicitors and local authorities, were neatly filed away. Everywhere you looked in that home there was cleanliness, neatness, order and efficiency. All of this I believed in, but I found precious little of it in the society in which I was forced, through economic necessity, to live. For the last three years at least, Karen and I had lived under conditions that amounted to house arrest, but there was no organization which monitored the injustice of politically inspired unemployment, as it was not regarded as a violation of human rights.

I put my garden tools away in the garage, along with my steel toe capped boots. Slipping on my sandals, I locked the garage door then descended the garden steps that led to the bungalow. It was a glorious sunny day, and I felt really great after a hard days work. I was very pleased at the garden's new look as I peered at it through the kitchen window, whilst washing my hands. I had just decided to have a hot bath, when my thoughts were interrupted by a man's voice outside.

"Hey! Don't do that," I heard.

Karen had been playing tag in our garden, with some children whom I think were related to Sonia. I therefore thought that Karen had got into some trouble. I walked through the lounge to the patio door. The sight filled me with foreboding. Parked at the bottom of the road, was my in-laws new car. I often thought that it reflected their personality, as its colour was red.

I stepped through the patio doorway, and walked around to the garden gate, where the voices were emanating from. My wife was standing there talking to her parents, Helen and Glyn, Gillian and her three young sons were also there. Helen immediately embarked on her relentless obsession to get Karen back. She told me emphatically that Karen needed to see a specialist, because of the rash on her face, and naturally Glyn agreed. The decision to take Karen away had been made there and then, in those few seconds that they had been standing there. Or had in fact the decision been made long before they had arrived? No one had even asked me what I thought. The fact that I was the husband, meant nothing to them. I was insignificant as always.

I remember feeling very despondent, in sharp contrast with the previous hours. This invasion by a troop of small minded, uncivilized life forms, produced a feeling of dread within me. I was surprised that Glyn was his usual lethal and unpredictable self. Even after six months his left arm was still in a sling. A week or two before, he had come around apparently doped up to the eyeballs with drugs or booze. I felt quite sorry for him then, but on this particular day I definitely did not.

Helen then told me that Glyn would take Karen to see his specialist, as he had an appointment to see him the next day. I took this to mean that Glyn would pick up Karen the next clay, on his way to see the specialist, whom I presumed to be in Bangor. This I did not mind, although I was not completely happy about it. I invited them all into my bungalow. As I stepped through the front door, someone caught the heel of my shoe. I turned inquisitively to see one of Gillian's sons immediately behind me. I said nothing, as I felt exasperated at the thought of another confrontation in the offering.

"Did you see the mean look on his face?" Helen said quietly to Gillian.

My despondency grew, possibly to the point of death, who knows. I think at this point Gillian's children went along the inner hall to the bathroom, where I think they stayed for the rest of the proceedings. Helen then surprised me my telling Karen to go and pack some clothes. It was only then that I realised that they were going to take away my wife there and then. Six months previously I had made a decision that never again would Karen stay at her parent's home. That decision I realised, could not be changed, otherwise there would have been no point in making it.

The nagging question, 'are you a man or a mouse,' kept churning itself over in my mind. Karen went to the main bedroom to pack.

I then took the plunge, "Karen's not going with you. Her rash is not serious enough."

Gillian, Glyn and Helen looked at me, without really being able to realise that I had uttered a protest.

"It's only there because she does not wash the soap off her face," I asserted.

The problem of Karen's rash had already been mentioned in papers to the DHSS. For my in-laws to make out that it was something more serious, was a distortion of the truth, something which they were experts at.

"We're taking her and that's all there is to it," said Helen.

"In that case I want you all to leave, now," I said determinedly.

They just stood there saying nothing, as my heart pounded away.

"I want you to leave, please," I said as diplomatically as I could.

Again there was no response, I felt bewildered, after all this was my home.

"Go on, get out! All of you. get out, now!" I shouted in despair.

It was like talking to the faces of the presidents on Mount Rushmore. Absolutely no reaction whatsoever. I was looking at faces of stone, with minds to match. I am not a violent person, and find arguing and violence abhorrent. I had never used my fists to hit anyone, not even when my in-laws attacked me on previous occasions. Even at that moment in time, I simply could not bring myself to hit my own mother-in-law. Its just not the done thing to do. On the spur of the moment I decided to get my dagger out of my bedside draw, where I kept it in case of burglars. The all steel, double edged, all black commando dagger, I was certain, would scare the living daylights out of them, and more importantly, out of my bungalow.

It seemed like a good idea at the time. After all, it worked in the horror movies. I ran down the hall and into the main bedroom. As I took the dagger out of the draw, Karen left the bedroom and dashed into the lounge, obviously distressed by the arguing. When I came out of the bedroom clutching the black dagger in my right hand, my in-laws including Gillian, had already advanced down the hall as far as the bathroom door, which was shut. I brandished the dagger in full view of the terrible trio. Glyn was standing to my left, next to the bathroom door. Helen to my right, with Gillian standing behind Glyn's left shoulder.

"Get out! Go on, get out!" I screamed as loud and as menacingly as I could.

Again they just stood there, not saying a word. I got the feeling that they were trying to induce a mental breakdown, or a stroke. I could not believe how they were behaving. I was scared out of my wits, for I knew that I could not afford to back down. I had made my promise to myself, and besides, if I gave up now it would mean the end of my marriage for certain. It was like being on an express train without brakes, being carried along by the momentum of circumstance. I was highly confused at this time, and did not know what to do, nor what to think. Despite being outnumbered and the exhaustion that now came on, I knew that I was in the right. I was not prepared to have someone dictate to me within my own home. In tired desperation I tried to communicate with them.

"Why can't you be nice? Why can't you treat us like decent human beings? Why do you hate us so much?" I said mumbling on and on.

I was close to tears and a mental breakdown. I cannot remember what Helen was saying at this time, but it was certainly not complimentary. I was getting nowhere. I turned to face Glyn, a tall well built man.

As I shouted, "Get out" I thrust both my fists into his massive chest. The dagger was still in my right hand pointing vertically. As my fists hit his chest, the broken tip of the dagger nicked his neck. It did not pour blood, appearing no worse than a shaving cut.

"Right, we've got him now. We can get the police," Helen immediately declared, with pleasure.

Glyn then turned to Karen, who was standing in the lounge, and told her to go to the car. Helen then took Gillian into the lounge, out of sight. I waited for Glyn to go out with them, but he just stood there as if in a trance, looking at himself through a large decorative mirror (of Tara), which was hanging on the hall wall. I was prepared to let them all leave, there and then, but Glyn just stood there unmoving, admiring the cut on his neck, as if to say, 'there's the evidence, we've got him now.

I could not believe my eyes. There I was, standing next to him with the dagger in my right hand, whilst he was totally ignoring me. He looked as if he expected death at any second. I thought I was loosing my grip on the situation, as I could not believe that this was really happening. Time seemed to stand still. At least fifteen seconds must have gone by, and my father-in-law did not move a muscle.

Without warning, I dodged past Glyn then ran down the hall and into the lounge. I was surprised to see Helen and Gillian standing between the kitchen door and the lounge table, as I thought they had gone outside to meet Karen. Helen was instructing Gillian about what to tell the police, although I obviously did not hang around long enough to hear the full dialogue, as I ran around the far side of the table and out through the front door.

I came across Karen standing by her parent's car. She looked very worried as I put my arm around her to comfort her.

"Come on, let's get away from here," I said, more in fear than hope.

As far as I was concerned my in-laws could have the bungalow. As I tried to move Karen away from the car, she fell backwards onto the road. She was in a state of shock.

"I'm not going to harm you. Come on let's get out of here," I said, in a very worried voice.

I still had the dagger in my right hand. It never occurred to me to throw it away. I managed to get her up, but she collapsed to the ground again about ten metres further on in front of Ann Davies' vacant bungalow. Karen was a big woman, so there was no way that I could carry her. I was trying to get her to the bungalow by the stream, where Dennis and Hazel lived, in the hope that once there I could telephone for police assistance. I was desperate and confused. With Karen at my feet, I turned around to see whether there was anyone coming.

When I looked around I was horrified to see Helen coming around the corner of the road, and storming towards me. We were on a direct confrontation which was impossible for me to avoid. My heart pounded as my brain raced along in overdrive. Karen was now immediately behind me in a state of shock. I was not prepared to abandon her. As Helen stormed towards me, I felt that I was falling backwards. Whether or not I closed my eyes as the lashing tongue approached, I am not sure.

I have no recollection of what happened during possibly the next five seconds. I experienced a sudden sharp pain in my right shoulder. My eyes focused upon my horizontal right arm, with the dagger still firmly gripped. I looked down. There at my feet, lying on her back with eyes open, was Helen.

She was dead!

I knew she was dead because her jaw was not going up and down. For some reason part of my brain just could not accept it.

'No I thought,' she can't be dead, I don't do such things.

I saw no blood, no injuries that I could see.

'Those are the sort of things that happen to other people, in the newspapers,' I thought,' she must be alive.

'She is a witch, if she is alive then kill her!'

It was my other self, talking to me.

I was afraid. Afraid that she would come back from the dead, or perhaps she was still alive. I was fighting for my survival. I had passed the point where the laws of society meant something to me. She was a witch that had to be killed. Only then could my mind be at rest. She must pay for the destruction of my life. I had finally fucked up everything. All the effort, the suffering through the years had now come to nothing. It was essential that she die. Good must conquer over evil. I must survive. The fear that I felt was very intense. It was stimulating the way my mind thought. I must survive. They must pay for the destruction of my life.

There was a strong sense of unreality. I was like automation. My eyes were like video cameras looking out upon a hostile alien landscape. I was the executive arm of hate, murder and revenge, the grim reaper himself.

I lowered my arm to the vertical position. The only way to kill her was to ram a stake through her heart. I had no stake, only a knife. I looked straight ahead as I went down into a crouching position, allowing the knife to penetrate her chest. I could not bring myself to look. I felt no sensation in my right arm. I did not know whether the knife had penetrated her or not.

My video cameras scanned the horizon. Where is that cretin Gwilym Owen, I thought, 'he's next.'

The thought that I had lost everything, filled me with a hatred so intense that I could have killed almost anyone at that moment. To my right, Glyn appeared.

"You bastard, you've killed her," Glyn shouted from a distance.

I'm not a bastard, I thought. How dare he call me that. If he'd controlled his misses, then none of this would have happened. He is as guilty as the rest.

I advanced towards him in an unsteady manner. He made no attempt to run away. I suppose he could not comprehend the situation fully due to a feeling of disbelief at what he was seeing, or maybe he simply wanted to die. Maybe he had wanted to die for months. Maybe the hit and run accident, in which his arm got broken, was not really accidental. Who knows?

I came at him with the knife, swinging it wildly in front of me. Each time I swung it he stepped back or to one side. I appeared to be stabbing him a few times in the left arm, which was in a sling. Suddenly, Gillian appeared to my right, so I swung the knife in a wide arc to my right to warn her off. She retreated towards the red car. At that moment Glyn ran past my left side, so I turned and ran after him. He ran twenty-five metres to the next road junction, where he turned and faced me.

"Get an ambulance for my wife," Glyn shouted to one of my neighbours who had come out into the street to see what was going on.

As Glyn shouted those words, I saw my opportunity and plunged the dagger into his front, just above the waist line. At the time I thought that I had stabbed him in the stomach. The blade actually passed the stomach wall in the pyloric area before penetrating the left lobe of the liver. Throughout all the violence I had not felt the knife enter its victim until that moment. I was sickened by what my senses were now telling me. After all those years of bitterness, my in-laws had finally got me to lose my self control. They had degenerated me to their own vile standards. I was mentally sickened by the enormity of what I had done. I felt revulsion towards my father-in-law, whom I turned my back on. I looked back towards where my mother-in-law lay dead, but my brain registered nothing. As Glyn walked up the road towards the doctor's house, I ambled off in the opposite direction. I called at Dennis and Hazel's bungalow, but there was no one at home. There would have been no sanctuary there for Karen and I.

I took the direct route up a narrow lane to the village police station. I felt very hot. After all the shouting my mouth was very dry and my throat hoarse. On the long walk up the narrow lane, passing children playing, I could think of nothing, except the realization that in a few minutes I had destroyed my life and the lives of many other people. I felt ashamed that I had done something which I fervently abhorred, namely committed a gross act of violence. On the way to the police station I noticed my GP driving the other way towards the scene of the crime. My eyes avoided his as I continued my walk, my blood stained arm still clutching the dagger.

Finally, I reached the police station. A woman wearing civilian clothes came to the front door.

"Here take this," I said as I held the dagger up for her.

She took the dagger and invited me into her lounge, where I sat down on the settee.

"Are you injured?" she asked, looking at my blood stained arm.

"No," I replied.

"Would you like a cup of tea?" she asked, sounding concerned.

"No, just a glass of water," I replied, thinking that it was best not to tell her what had happened for fear of upsetting her.

I sat there gazing vacantly at the television, which was showing the soap opera Crossroads, at the time. It all seemed so unreal. It must have been about 6-45pm, I thought. It was then that I noticed the blood on my right sleeve. All that I could think of was the fact that I had finally fucked up my life, and mumbled words to that effect. There were no policemen there, so she telephoned another police station, or vice-versa, whilst I gave her my full name and address to relay to the police. A few minutes later the police arrived.

I was taken in a police car to Llangefni police station, where I was cautioned.

"You are not obliged to say anything unless you wish to do so, but what you say maybe put in writing and given in evidence," said a police officer.

I was then interrogated on a question and answer basis. Contemporaneous notes were taken, which I later signed. Quite frankly, I wanted to get it over and done with as soon as possible. Earlier I was photographed in my gardening clothes, which were then taken away for forensic examination together with nail clippings, and samples of my blood, spittle, hair and the victim's blood found on my body. I was then taken later that evening to Holyhead police station, where facilities for detaining me were superior. I was questioned here also. The police asked me who my solicitor was, and I told them that it was Mr.Bumble. During my short stay in that police station, the staff came to my cell door frequently. Maybe they thought I was suicidal. I certainly was not thinking of escape. To me my problems were now over. I felt an intense feeling of relief.

I believe it was the next day that I saw a solicitor. My friend Bill and his neighbour Brian, another draughtsman at Tinto, had heard about the incident on the local radio news programme, and then alerted my solicitor to the problem. Mr.Bumble was not available, so Mr.. Roberts came instead. The police asked me a few more questions in his presence, no doubt fearful that I might be tempted to change my statement. After the police left the interview room Mr.Roberts asked me whether there might be any medical reasons for my behaviour. It was then for the first time, that I told someone about my mental symptoms. I told him about my diaries. He became very interested in this, but as things turned out they were to be of no use at all, since I never referred to my illness, and neither did I mention the rows with my in-laws in them. Deep down I hoped that their would be someone who knew what my in-laws were like, who would speak up on my behalf. I believe that it was in the presence of my solicitor that the charges were read out to me. I had earlier been informed that my father-in-law had died of liver failure in hospital, about half an hour after we had parted company. I always thought that he would die of liver failure, but never like that. Both charges of murder were then read out to me.

"You are charged, that you did on Thursday, April 26th, 1984 at Sunny Dale, Gwalchmai in the county of Gwynedd, did murder Glyn Roberts against the peace of our sovereign lady the Queen and Dignity, contrary to common law. You are also charged, that you did on Thursday, April 26th, 1984 at Sunny Dale, Gwalchmai in the county of Gwynedd, did murder Helen Roberts against the peace of our sovereign lady the Queen and Dignity, contrary to common law," said the police officer.

"I just want to say that I'm sorry I did it. It's difficult to put it into words, the whole thing was inevitable," I said to the police officers present.

Even after the charges had been read out, I still found it difficult to believe.

After being finger printed three times, including palm prints, I was taken by the police to Risley Remand Centre on Saturday, April 28th, 1984.

It was to be over one year before I read the statements to this case. The only relevant one was that of Gillian Harris. This can be found in the statements section. This statement was made the day after the killings, to a female police officer. There are a few points upon which I feel I should comment. As regards Karen being pushed into marrying me, all I can say is that she had sixteen months during our courtship and engagement in which to change her mind. The only people that were pushing her were her parents. As far as not being aware of what she was doing when she married me. I thought that that was what the marriage ceremony was there to determine.

As for locking up my wife in Valley, her teacher apparently had no difficulty in getting in. As for buying the computer and televisions for my own use, it would be rather difficult for anyone to put a television in a lounge, and expect the rest of the family not to use it. Anyway, how on Earth could I watch two TV's at once. As for the computer, the software I wrote for Karen, speaks for itself. I do not know whether the police looked at it since the question never arose.

I cannot imagine why Karen would want to wear one of my old shirts, since she had plenty of blouses. As for lunging repeatedly at Glyn with the dagger, in the inner hall, if that was the case then why did I fail to kill him there and then. The inner hall was only a metre wide by ten metres long, making it virtually impossible for him to escape. Did she mention this in her statement because her mother had told her to say it?

You will notice in the statement that nowhere does it state that I told them all to get out of my bungalow. Why not? She does admit that I was shouting. It seems unreasonable to assume that I would grab a knife without ordering them out first. To admit such a thing would bring the question, 'Well in that case, why didn't you just leave?' There was no sensible answer to that. They did not leave because Helen wanted violence, which she could then use against Karen's mind, or in the case of something more serious, involve police and doctors.

The defence rests, for the moment.