On numerous occasions during my life I have been told to “act like a normal human being.” Coming from the individuals who have levied these comments – that will take some doing.

  Normal for me is not quite the same as it is for your average individual (not that I’d have any idea what average is either). It appears that the lengths that some people will go to in order to cover the inherently quirky nature of human behaviour is quite astounding at times.

  I grew up in a psychiatric hospital. Maybe I should explain! Both of my parents were psychiatric….nurses. Consequently, we lived within the grounds of the hospital, in the staff houses. This led to a childhood where the idea of normal is probably somewhat different to textbook definition.

  Both of my parents smoked and told me never to do it because smoking was bad for you. Consequently, when old ladies in pink nightgowns, green slippers and no dentures knocked on the front door and gestured for cigarettes – I thought I was doing my parents a favour in giving away all the cigarettes I could find. Little did I realise that what they were telling me was that smoking was bad for me – but not for them.

  It would also not be unfair of me to say that my parents liked a drink – not of the soft variety. It was also explained to me that drinking was bad for you. Being a curious child I needed to find out why anyone would drink something that was bad for them.

  One day I picked up my dad’s drink and had a mouthful. Whiskey never has been or will be my drink of choice and I realised that there may be some truth in what they said. However, that day I acknowledged that what my parents were really telling me was that drinking was bad for me – but not for them.

  Occasionally my sister and I would break things. This could be considered an everyday childhood hazard. Apparently not, according to my mum. This meant that I was stupid. Strangely enough, when she broke something there was always an explanation of how it was someone else’s fault, usually a family member – for causing her to do it.

  Attempting to find out what normal was, in my household, frequently led to misleading conclusions and confusing outcomes. Fortunately, when I was a bit older I was allowed out with my friends to play. Now was the time for some real adventure. Soon bored by the confines of our avenue, me and my friends ventured into the hospital. Here we met some very interesting characters patrolling the place.

  One chap would walk around in his chequered, brown suit making strange facial gestures. He looked a bit odd and wore the same clothes in all weather. We could go quite close to him and he’d just look at us, never saying anything. He was unconcerned by our presence. This was chequered suit man – and his behaviour never changed.

  Another lady would wander the grounds of the hospital, picking up litter. She would wear her nightgown during the warm days and stay in during the colder ones. When she was out she fascinated us. Why would anyone spend all of their time picking up litter? She would wander around for hours with her carrier bag, just picking up waste. One day we left her a trail of litter and led her around the hospital, cricket field and football pitch. We knew her as the bin-bag bird. She was a curious lady – and her behaviour never changed.

  One elderly gentleman would approach us each time he saw us and talk to us nicely. He was kind and polite. However, since we knew that he was mad – because our parents told us – we were a little condescending and used him as the butt of our jokes. He seemed oblivious to this so he must have been mad – for treating us like mature adults. We knew him as Nutty Norm. Yet, his behaviour never changed.

  For a real rush of adrenaline we would approach ‘bag-man’. He was a cranky chap who walked around the hospital with four carrier bags. It was our ultimate goal to find out what he kept in them. We would each take turns approaching him to see if we could get a peek in his bags. He would ultimately snarl at us when we got too close and we would turn and run. One thing we noticed with him was – his behaviour never changed.

  So, this was our experience of ‘The Mad House’ - lots of different characters demonstrating strangely consistent behaviour. Yet, our shared tales of life with our parents yielded one conclusion – things appeared to be strangely inconsistent. Moods changed from day to day – for no apparent reason. Behaviours did the same thing. Entering our houses became like a lottery.

  In moments of lucidity my mum would explain that she had a stressful job and how they acted was rarely because of anything that me or my sister had done. Unfortunately, these moments were frequently countered with capricious mood swings and confusing advice about what we should do with our lives.

  Fortunately, we knew that this was normal behaviour and that these stalwarts of society were making sure that the lunatics in the hospital knew their place. Once again, the establishment prevails, everyone knew their place and order was maintained.

  Reflections on these findings have led me to a few interesting conclusions with regard to what normal is. I’m not sure that I would consider myself normal but I do know that I seem to resonate well with many people who are generally considered ‘not normal’ by society.

  Furthermore, when we look at what we are doing to the rainforests, ozone layer and environment – it is clear that normal is some way short of reasonable or sustainable.

  Today I accept and love all of my family just the way they are and thank them for the unique insight that they have given me into human nature. Today we can all laugh about our past and see the irony of it. Reflection is a wonderful thing and being able to talk about things is the key to healing and understanding. I’ll always stay alert to anyone who is deemed ‘mad’ – as they may have some idea of what is really going on in the world.