Overheard just the other day as I stood waiting for my coffee at a local cafe: two builders/tradies were chatting to one another and once they saw me, one of the daring duo said: “I knew there’d be a Richard but I didn’t realise it was The Richard.”

Go figure. Mind you, in all honestly given some of my experiences and escapades during the last few months, it would sort of make sense that some knowledge of this infamous aspect of yours truly had done the rounds.

Similarly, it didn’t really shake me when during my stay at Gosford Psych Ward, fantastic nurse M. one day asked me excitedly, “That site, The Richard of Oz. Is that you?”

There are more examples of this kind of thing, some quite uncanny but I am clinging to the notion of trying to forge a severance between my life in Wamberal and my new status as a disabled pensioner.

So, I try not to get too bogged down in recent memories even though having salvaged some of my belongings does stir things up again.

On a brighter note, the lady working at the removalist firm holding my furniture said to one of my carers and myself as we stepped into her office, “Ah yes, poor Richard. Eviction and in hospital? Poor bloke, I heard he was quite succesful at one point.”

I thought it best at this stage to tell her that I was that poor bloke…you’ve gotta have a laugh.