Sometime later, it occurred to me that at the very moment I was being tied to a bed in a psychiatric ward, screaming bloody murder and afraid for my life, Steve was singing Gregorian chant in a monastery overlooking the ancient city of Rome. And here we were now, come to the same place, from two very different directions. It was past midnight when we said good night, and as I walked back to my room, I had the distinct feeling, in the middle of my usual muddle, that I’d been unexpectedly blessed.
