October 2022¶

Sam shares some files with me¶

Samuel, in a friendly and helpful manner, shares some files with me regarding the harmony class homework via email.
This is his email contact:

Samuel's email

Oh look, he’s changed his name back.

Samuel's email

Does “someone” tell Samuel what to do, I wonder?
Is it all to do with immoral debts people can never pay off, I wonder?

Choker seed

I asked Samuel why his email name was Max Power, it seemed strange to me.
He did not answer my question.
I now believe this was another choker seed.
There were continual references on X via fake accounts, and on manipulated Google search results, throughout 2023 and 2024 to the porn brand Max Power.
I write about Max Power in January 2025, but is this just a distraction from more mainstream porn networks like PornHub perhaps?
This choker seed may explain why Samuel simply stopped talking to me after my ‘funeral’ on 12^th June 2023 at the end of the 3^rd year.
I was not supposed to return to the conservatory after that and people like Samuel, who had been helping the criminal gangs out, would have finished their obligations and been paid, I suspect, and probably wanted nothing more to do with the ongoing crimes.

Every time we walk home together, Samuel tells me he is planning to take a costly TEFL course online the following summer.
Samuel spends a lot of time with Domingo and the two little sisters.
I always seem them together.
I like Elvira, she’s a good kid.
I tell Sam this.
Sam says, oh no, she’s really scatty.
I wonder why he would say this about a 14-year old girl who is an obvious target.

Samuel goes to Paris with his girlfriend¶

Samuel is going to be away for one harmony class.
I ask him where he’s going.
He says he is going to Paris with his girlfriend.
I say, Oh, how romantic.
He very defiantly says, No! Not romantic at all!.
He made it sound like the trip, for him, was an obligation.
What was his real purpose in taking his Venezuelan girlfriend to Paris, then?

Vomiting and sickness in the flat¶

When I arrived back from holiday in September, I noticed horrible brown streaks along the inside of the fridge and on the floor.
I become convinced that there are parasites in the flat and that is what has been making me so sick.
Furthermore, I had set a security camera up in the flat to record anything weird during the whole time I was away, which was nearly three months.
During that time, an enormous fly triggered the camera from time to time.
I was vomiting a lot in the flat and it was not normal vomiting either. It was not like food-poisoning vomiting, it was more like anything I ate just sat in my stomach, digestion not starting at all, and it would all come up just chewed up, often a great deal of it.
It was strange. I have only ever vomited like that in the apartment.
I ask Bea to replace the fridge as it’s ancient. I tell her at that time that I am being sick a lot.
She replaces the fridge immediately.
I continue to be sick a lot.

Bullying starts quietly¶

People are talking about me negatively at the conservatory; cold looks, weird laughter, a frosty feeling.
I hear the word “coffee” a lot and relate it to me complaining that Domingo invited me for coffee back in 2014, and he shouldn’t have.
I’m having a hard time at work too.
I’m stressing unnecessarily.
I have a strong sense that something sinister is going on that I’m unaware of.
I start to have bad dreams.
There is still no teacher for chamber music.

Angela¶

One of the women that walks with the British hikers is a lady called Angela.
Her email is angelapladecalvo@gmail.com.
Every time we meet she is complaining about how unbalanced she has become.
She has seen her doctor numerous times about it but they do nothing.
She details wobbling on her feet and is concerned about it.
While being drugged continuously, I also experienced this unbalanced footing.
It’s easy to pass it off as age, or whatever, until it stops completely.

Angela’s hair¶

Angela always has beautifully done blond hair, like a Hollywood professional does her hair.
I remark on it.
One time, I’m so amazed at how good her hair is I ask for her hairdresser details.
Christine pushes into the conversation very quickly and says, no no no, you can’t go to Angela’s hairdresser.
It’s very strange indeed.
Was Angela also being sedated for porn and going regularly to hair and make-up?
Angela complains she is getting dizzy spells, and is wobbly on her feet all the time.
She goes to her GP and they never help her, and her symptoms continue.

Cindy¶

Another woman, Cindy, walks with us.
She has a heart condition which, after being extraordinarily fit and well all of her life, came on all-of-a-sudden one night - panic attack style - then on another night, then another before doctors would do anything about it.
Doctors initially told her it was nothing.
She was going to go to the UK for a check up, I believe, and it happened again and they prescribed medication.
She takes pills for it, probably digitalis, and now she can’t walk up hills.
Christine highlighted Cindy to me as being a possible victim of sedated sex assaults by hinting at my “Who is this?” series with reference to her.

Patricia¶

I’m surprised to meet Patricia on a hike with the English ladies after so many years. She seems sad. I notice how much she has aged.
I forgot that I saw her at Christmas but she was sitting at another table and it was dark in the house afterwards. I hadn’t walked with her since 2007 probably.
I tell Christine that I’m surprised at how much she has aged. She obviously tells Patricia what I’ve said because the next time I see Patricia she is angry with me.

Gang stalking tactics

People setting up situations in which they might be randomly angry with me for no particular reason became pretty standard gang-stalking activity.
This may have been the same day that, while we were at coffee, Patricia was telling us all about how she had taken speed and other drugs.
I had switched off at that point and was talking to someone else but from the periphery I remember they were talking about a Spanish brothel owner who had been in Finland and returned. It sounded like everyone knew who she was talking about.
I believe now she may have been referencing the trumpet teacher, or grooming gang members.
If that is true, the implication is that the “sex” industry has infiltrated the school systems in Spain, and controls it to an extent.

I’m unaware of the conspiracy at this time, and so I’m upset about my words hurting someone unintentionally but people are people, and often can’t be trusted to not share hurtful information.
I attempt to talk to Patricia in a friendly way to make amends, and I talk about my life.
She talks about looking after her tiny granddaughter but something is wrong, she’s not happy, she’s holding something back.
She mentions a man, a British policeman, who lived near her who had really scary eyes.
It was a weird thing for her to mention, and she repeated it.
It reminded me of a short story I had written for the writing club I used to go to in Dénia in 2007, which incidentally Dandy the gay English teacher was also a member of.
This was a piece I wrote at the time I started to write about child sexual abuse and North London grooming rape-gangs in short-story form.
I had described one of the pedophiles, Winston May, with the exact words she used in our conversation.

Note

Could this have been a warning from Patricia? Or were my British friends 100% complicit.
It seems likely now that Hazel Smith would have gotten this information from her friendship with Dandy and passed it onto Patricia, who is a clear associate, with instructions to repeat it, choker-seed style.

I complain about how mean my landlady is to the English ladies¶

On one of the walks this month, I explain to the English ladies how my landlady is inordinately mean.
I explain how the boiler is on its last legs and that the kitchen furniture is ancient.
I tell them about how she had replaced the mattress when I moved in with a mattress that looked like it came from the pound shop and I’d had to buy my own.
I tell them how I believe meanness can cause extraordinary harm and not everyone is fit to be responsible for others who might rent out their properties.

Patricia the artist¶

Patricia likes art.
In October 2022, I visited an exhibition of work done by the British ex-pat community in Rafol at the town hall in which she had some of her work displayed.
The parents of her daughter’s husband were there and she introduced me to them.
Later, she will tell me that they are named Vidal.
I remember how she curiously mentioned, again and again, that she had spent time in the UK doing the foundation art course; in 2012 or around then.
She mentioned this whenever I saw her and mentioned my conservatory studies.
She also told me about her son, Toby, and how he was not able to live permanently in Spain after Brexit, and that he spent a lot of time living in his car in the UK. I thought it strange.
I really liked her work and told her I would buy some when I had my own place to hang some in.
I remember how her WhatsApp pic had been a picture of her and her husband, the guy she had been with a Christmas but their facial features had been distended and contorted, and there had been little images added to their noses and mouths, clown noses and small butterflies and similar, rather like what I will see on some of the numerous fake porn accounts sent to me over 2024.
I tell her that her profile image is a bit psychedelic and really rather sinister.
She removes it at some point and there is no replacement.

A walker who passed away¶

The English ladies often talk about a woman who died suddenly of a heart attack.
I had walked with her back in 2008. I remembered her vaguely.

Lucia, Lorraine’s friend and colleague¶

One Sunday evening, late in October, I’m walking on the beach.
I see Lucia and her husband walking towards me.
Lucia worked at LinguaLink with Lorraine and myself back in 2008.
I believe Lucia has been instructed (maybe without her knowledge, male porn-addict networks and their families you know) to see if I remember her.
I do, but I’m depressed so I do not acknowledge her, I just smile.
Depression makes you not want to talk to people.
I guess she reports back, or to her husband, oh Katie didn’t recognize me.
She made no effort to say hi to me either, by the way.
I wonder who told her and her husband to go to the beach that evening at that time.
I had never seen her previously there, nor since, any time in the many years I walked that beach.
I guess she’s a test to see how well the switcheroo brain damage herbs have worked.
I guess I passed, except I didn’t but they weren’t to know.

Halloween¶

On the run up to Halloween I notice that, outside my flat and in full view from the window, an effigy is hanging from a lamppost.

Effigy

This feels extremely sinister, especially considering Lorraine Blackbourn hung herself.