Bipolar Adventures

By John H Staines

John has wrestled between sanity and insanity during a very busy professional career working for the British and American governments as an international travelling market researcher, despite his handicap of suffering a pronounced mental illness of bipolar affective disorder.
This has resulted in cycles from ecstasy to manic depression which is reflected in his candid and honest description in a humorous non-judgmental tone, and even at times of absolute despair, he has looked back over his life with a wry smile of amusement.
John hopes that you will get many laughs out of his laconic writing style, when handling the tricky subject of a mental illness. The first of a series of five short books from this new author over the near future, thus proving that truth can be more stranger and interesting than fiction.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Jan 31, 2022
• ISBN: 9781398451353

John H Staines

John Henry Staines was born in April 1948 in the small pottery’s town of Leek in Staffordshire. He is the second son of Robert and Sylvia Staines, and travelled with the family at the age of 9 to live in South Shields, South Tyneside, the home of his father, where he resided on and off for over 65 years. John was diagnosed with Bipolar Affective Disorder when he was 22 and has struggled mentally to contain this illness throughout his international career as a market researcher in over 50 countries for over 500 clients.

Book preview

About the Author

John Henry Staines was born in April 1948 in the small pottery’s town of Leek in Staffordshire.

He is the second son of Robert and Sylvia Staines, and travelled with the family at the age of 9 to live in South Shields, South Tyneside, the home of his father, where he resided on and off for over 65 years.

John was diagnosed with Bipolar Affective Disorder when he was 22 and has struggled mentally to contain this illness throughout his international career as a market researcher in over 50 countries for over 500 clients.

Dedication

To my late wife and business partner for 53 years, Tricia Staines. My inspiration and reason to carry on living every day.

Copyright Information ©

John H Staines 2022

The right of John H Staines to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by the author in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

All of the events in this memoir are true to the best of author’s memory. The views expressed in this memoir are solely those of the author.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

ISBN 9781528978002 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781398451353 (ePub e-book)

www.austinmacauley.com

First Published 2022

Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd®

1 Canada Square

Canary Wharf

London

E14 5AA

Acknowledgement

I would like to thank Austin Macauley Publishers for selecting Bipolar Adventures from the many aspiring writers, and for giving me a break from my troubled existence.

Chapter 1

In the Beginning

As the warm Mediterranean sun sets over Baia Caffiere on the rugged volcanic island of Ischia off the Amalfi Coast of Italy, the half-light of evening stretches across the terracotta terrace of the Continental Mare Hotel, which sits atop the cliffs of the hilly peninsular. My mind is so relaxed that memories of my childhood flood back in my sombre October mood.

I had passed my three-score years and ten fifteen months ago, the day my third grandson came into this troubled world. As I gulp my Americano coffee mulled with warm local milk to wash down my saltimbocca, the Italian version of a Parisian croque-monsieur, and then stub out my pencil-slim Cohiba Cuban mini cigar, my mind is at rest at long, long last. My mind is also further rested as a soft cool breeze satisfies my consciousness. I am trying to forget my much-troubled past.

It was a cold winter’s day in Blandford Forum, Dorset, when the ambulance first came for me. I was 22 years old and had just been sacked from my dream job with SNS Communications of Poole Dorset, a town famous for its chain ferry at Sandbanks. I had studied for twelve years to obtain six GCE O levels and an Ordinary National Certificate in engineering, as well as degrees in engineering from Sunderland Polytechnic and a Masters in Marketing and Finance from the City University of London.

Having worked studiously for my exams and completed a six-year technical apprenticeship with Alphonse Reyrolle and Company in Hebburn, prior to my burnout, I was overqualified and could not get a job anywhere for months, until Marconi Communications took me on as assistant to the commercial director at the young age of 23 in the year of our Lord 1974.

The ambulance wove through Thomas Hardy country lanes, unearthly siren sounding through the beautiful fields with their fluttering life and fairy-tale existence, taking me far from the madding crowd through Mayor of Casterbridge territory and beyond to two barred and unlocked gates of the hell. It was 1971, and I was about to be incarcerated for the first but not last time in my sporadic mental existence.

The hospital I was rushed to was the Dorchester psychiatric hospital at Wood End. The illness I had was known at the time as manic-depressive psychosis disorder, and I thought at the time I was doomed to a life of locks on the doors and shutters on the windows and separation from my wife, the love of my life, Tricia. After indoctrination and courses of lithium carbonate tablets and other psychiatric drugs, I endured electroconvulsive therapy torture, which involved clipping electrodes to either side of my head and passing a current through my brain until my body convulsed in pain, supposedly to clear bad memories away. I remember waking each time afterwards with a raging thirst and feeling somewhat befuddled and distant, but the tea and biscuits afterwards made me feel alive again.

Tricia always stayed by me and visited me regularly as I got progressively better over the months until my release to my home in Blandford Forum with a heavy load of medication for the rest of my life. I had no prospect of immediate work