Chris Pitts Tells his story
School dunce, scorned worker, exploited nursing care assistant. Despite it all, Chris has led a colourful life as ‘a butterfly that escaped the wheel’. There is no fiction here; from the Summer of Love at St Ives in 1967 through to the relief at finding the missing body in the shrubbery at night, every word of his story is true.
Chris writes on behalf of the illiterate and the lower lower working class from whose ranks he is proud to have come.
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sample from The book (End of Ch3)
So I chose to incarnate myself into the world of hopelessness and despair where the mentally ill and aging souls with Alzheimer’s live, if living is the right word to use. The experiences that had led me to this point have their life more fully explained in the part of this book titled ‘Selling the old rugged cross’ and my book ‘Broken Body’.
So on my way I went to the green pastures of Sallies psychiatric hospital naively skipping down the primrose path…………