Cry for Help

My Bedford bestie had said she'd pick me up at 10:45 to drive me to the Meet-Up for our 11am walk. I looked out to see if she'd arrived and saw an ambulance in front of our building. That alarmed me. Moments later I saw my disabled neighbour climb into the back of the vehicle without an abnormal degree of assistance so I assumed this to be a routine assisted journey to a scheduled appointment.
But when I arrived back home from my walk at about 3pm I learned that this was not the case at all. My landlord had found my neighbour sitting in our garden with blood on his left arm and a knife in his right hand. He had slit his wrist.
My landlord had called the emergency services.
My neighbour had been lucid enough to tell our landlord that he hoped that his action would result in him being accommodated in a care home, or supported living, or sheltered accommodation. Anything but living alone and lonely and unsupported.
I so hope that local social services can find a place for him. He deserves a better life.

I've had some very good conversations with our landlord today, and now seen inside three out of five flats. My attic is in by far the best condition of the three I've seen, but that won't stop me from moving down a floor when that becomes available.