I don't usually work Fridays, but the boss is away and B is newly qualified and needs supervision. I get in at 10, half an hour before my only appointment. B looks up as I enter, and I know that he's immediately noticed the red marks on my fave where Steve's fngers were holding my head to shake me last night. He's seen the purple marks on my neck where he half strangled me. And the swollen eyes from crying of course. He says nothing, talks about our plans for the day. He has a bad back, and asks me if I'll treat him at lunchtime. I'm grateful for the normality.

My appointment is not well enough to notice anything about me. It is a relief to immerse myself in someone else's problems for an hour. When I was younger I would sometimes resent the self-absorption of the mentally ill. I'd want to shake them and say, 'you think you've got problems? Let me tell you about my life, then you'll understand what a real problem is!' Now I recognise that was a symptom of my own illness. I look at other people's lives and am happy mine is so much better.

At lunchtime I treat B. He is 22, physically he is my type - tall, skinny but muscly, dark hair. But personality-wise he is not my type - he's sincere and driven and evidence-based to the max. I baffle him; the way I work is intuitive and right-brained - I abandoned the meagre evidence a long time ago because people aren't randomised or controlled. He 'knows' that what I do shouldn't work, but he can feel that it does, and being B, he has to talk about the whole thing - a lot.

I have seen the Jam live many times. I was there when punk was happening (though I do point out that I was only young at the time). To him I have the glamour that I remember thinking my brother's friends had when I was 20. I mean, one of them had seen the Doors at the Isle of Wight Festival!

If things were different, there'd be at least a quick snog at the work summer barbeque. But he has a girlfriend that he loves very much, and I.... Well, I have a slow-motion car-crash love affair to deal with. So we are safe.

When we finish work he says, 'see you next week.' I tell him to have a good weekend. He's getting into his car then stops and says, 'you will be... you know....' (He's a man, he doesn't know what to say.) '...Alright?'

I say of course I will, and I mean it.