Hostname: page-component-7c8c6479df-fqc5m Total loading time: 0 Render date: 2024-03-28T17:01:40.467Z Has data issue: false hasContentIssue false

Phasianus Colchicus

Published online by Cambridge University Press:  02 January 2018

Rights & Permissions [Opens in a new window]

Abstract

Type
Papers
Copyright
Copyright © Royal College of Psychiatrists, 2008 

It was too late to brake, impossible to swerve – what bird-brained philosophy made it plod on oblivious, as if it had its mind on higher things and wasn't to be disturbed? Bottle-green head, cheeks wattled red, neck stretched forward like it was pulling against a leash, turning an indifferent eye, deaf ear to my horn. It was one of those times when the future is suddenly certain, or there is no future, when there's nothing to do but hold course – and I thought of you on a strange road leaning into a bend, that day a pheasant from nowhere flew across your front wheel; and felt like some avenging angel.

Submit a response

eLetters

No eLetters have been published for this article.