January 2026

A “date” in Barcelona

• They got one of the Fitkoh staff, a Northern Irishman, to tell me - by shouting it from the bar with his back to me when I was sitting behind him - “you had a “date” in Barcelona”.
• Earlier, he’d told me, without context, you’re a dark horse.
• I guess it meant yet another sedated rape event I’m only now aware of having occurred, except there were probably hundreds!
• At the time, I was wondering when they meant.
• I was up and down to Barcelona so many times between 2005-2016 when I lived in Dénia and Madrid.
• Let’s list those visits here - as much as possible - and see which of them are the most likely.

• I’ll add any more I remember as we go along.

  1. I stayed one night in Barcelona on the way to Dénia from Sainte Baume in February 2022.
  2. I visited Barcelona in 2016 to do a yoga class with Pattabhi Jois’s daughter who had flown in from India. I stayed at the Gran Hotel Rey Don Jaime, just outside the city in a small town called Castelldefels, which had the most expensive parking meters in Spain. This is the favorite as I was living at spy-cam-networked Joan Fuster at the time and I was likely being sedated and filmed two or three times a week. I was also slipping into a severe depression.
  3. I had an extremely suspicious time at the Amma retreat in Barcelona in October 2015. The Spanish organizer became apoplectic with me for asking, politely, for a private room. She raged at me for days and even told me she hoped I would crash the car on the way home! If a sedated event had happened there, it would have been with another person as I was sharing with an Angolan woman. Sandra Rita Diaz had been interested in all this.
  4. Then there was the Cleargreen retreat where I met Gammadian Freeman/Richard, probably late 2008 or early 2009. I was sharing with others in the rented apartment if something had happened there. Was Jess from the Avila meditation-retreat-centre-cum-porn-studio in December 2023 at the Cleargreen retreat also?
  5. Of course, there was the invitation from Grace to meet her and Nadim (and others I suppose) in Barcelona just after I started at Polygon; which didn’t happen because I found out online that Nadim is an actor - and everyone knew I had found out due to constant hacking - and he got himself fired immediately.
  6. In October 2007, I traveled by bus to Barcelona to attend a Kabbalah conference. I shared a hotel room with my friend Richard so there’s no chance of any funny business on this occasion.
  7. In early 2006, I traveled to Barcelona to attend a Vipasana course which I got thrown out of for being utterly depressed and irreverent (I had just remembered gang-rape at an Iboga retreat in Montpelier). I don’t remember where I stayed before and after the course but I got the train to Barcelona from Madrid that time.
  8. In January 2005, I traveled to Barcelona to attend a women’s well-being retreat with Sat Santokh and three other women, but we all slept on the floor in the Kundalini yoga studio… you never know though.
  9. On Thursday 1^st December 2005, on my way to the Iboga retreat near Montpelier from Madrid, where I would remember, for the first time, sedated gang rape by Jamaican rape-gangs in Tottenham in 1989, I stayed one night at the hotel inside the main train station. My room had a picture of a lounging devil with a huge phallus over the bed which I found sinister and unsettling. I had a terrible bunch of dreams that night. I dreamt of Jitendra Das’s teeth (realizing this was so when I meet him five years later). I also dreamt of a young Spanish man at the foot of the bed on his knees and pleading for his life with a bunch of horrible men standing over him pointing guns at his head and threatening to kill him. Was he going to be someone I know? I guess this night is also a favorite.

  Iboga retreats

  • The gangs would have been aware I was going on these retreats, and aware that Iboga often surfaces hidden events from the past. Many attendees are curing hard-drug addictions this way.
  • I wonder if they felt it imperative to attempt to undermine any healing I might have had from attending the Iboga retreat.
  • In retrospect, the criminal-element I oftentimes met on some of these shamanic retreats I was going on to try to access hidden memories - and the numerous odd experiences I had with these people - could well have been part of the distract-and-discredit criminal protocol for child rape-gang survivors, don’t you think.

Byron lookalike

• Everywhere I go around the Fitkoh gym I’m seeing the same man.
• He’s dressed up to remind me of Byron, particularly his hair which gives credence to those two Brits at Sinai being agents in 1997.
• I can think of no reason they would do this.

UN woman

• A woman on the same course befriends me a little and we chat and have meals together.
• She’s Dutch but has an American accent.
• She tells me about when she worked for the UN in Africa for years and always rode in the helicopter.
• As she’s leaving, she shows me an AI business card she’s made on her phone where she’s in bulletproof UN gear and beside the two-propeller UN helicopter.
• I have no idea what they’re trying to do with all this.
• I told a good joke at dinner about swimming pools and children, but they did set it up for me.
• I don’t know why, but I heard her saying she knows she’s a star, and I can’t imagine why she’d say that if she did.
• I wonder how many of them know what the Americans were really up to.
• My guess is very few because it is so utterly appalling.

Military folk all over me

• Everywhere I go, agents.
• I think the waterfall trip had no non-agents attending.
• Now it’s ex-military, or people with military parents or husbands.
• I just don’t get it.
• What in the world are they playing at?
• It’s a total mystery to me.
• I’ve no idea they’ve been making babies from my eggs all this time and are probably now raffling off more of them to the highest bidder.
• Correct me if I’m wrong.
• It’d be great if all of the baby-stealers are folk the whole world wants to have an intense shame episode.
• That’d be helpful.
• The way they do things; one can only imagine what they’ve really been up to.
• Do you think they’re the instigators of the sedated-rape plague, making sure that women do all their dirty work for them?
• It wouldn’t surprise me.

Hyderabad

• I visit India to complete jyotirlinga pilgrimage - although I still have to go back to Kedarnath and I’ve obviously not visited Pakistan or Kashmir except given how well we’re doing I believe that will be a possibility shortly!
• As usual, I’m surrounded by agents on the plane; a bunch of very Jewish looking ones too, young people, army.
• The suggestion is always rescue.
• At Hyderabad, the Internet is down in the whole airport, so I’m unable to complete my landing card.
• It’s chaos.
• I don’t see the youngsters again, but I do see a lot of power-dressed American women around instead.
• One of them is standing at the next passport counter while I’m trying to explain what I’d written on my landing card - when I borrowed an employees Internet - which the website didn’t save anyway.
• She reminds me of the very obvious CIA woman that turned up to module 2 of Transforming Touch in Galway in 2024. I don’t think they were actually the same woman but they looked exactly the same: same dress, same posture, same mannerism, same energy.

A bridge collapses again

• This is in reference to constant hints and suggestions that I would not be going back to the UK in January when I left Thailand; the thought of which was inordinately upsetting.
• The psychological manipulation was relentless: everywhere I stayed in Thailand, every activity I did, there was someone or something assuring me that it was over and I’d be safe.
• All lies, but millions and millions of dollars of lies.
• I don’t see the bigger picture at all: I keep surviving poisoning, I may have healed a man with alzheimer’s at Lourdes in January too - let me be clear, if this happened Mary did it through my hand and the Catholic church are so busy extracting my eggs they’ve kept it quiet - so everyone wants a slice of me thinking that if they could just get hold of a cell, or an egg, they might own it and control it.
• I guess I’m familiar with this sort of thing being not all that exciting in places like India where at any time you might be able to find thousands of people, of the billion or so, with similar abilities.
• The Indians will confirm that these abilities are never passed down to offspring, you can ask them.
• India will also confirm raising from the dead is there.
• Thank you India, I adore you <3
• Also note the lack of an army of superhero holy men ever being set up cos, guess what, God doesn’t function that way.
• If they wanted my advice, they probably don’t, they’d be far better off putting all those hundreds of millions they’ve spent on stalking me since July 2025, and even earlier, into healing the minds of the people living in self-imposed insanity. That’s them too.
• That way, they might stop catastrophically f*cking everything up all the time. Don’t you think.
• What a waste of resources.
• Scheming wretched muck-spreading bastards.
• Anyone wanna tell me current budget spend on me while blocking me from heath care (which they know I need because they gave me a few scans while I was sedated), medical assistance, feeling safe enough to stay anywhere, doing anything about my poisoned car, etc?
• Do you think they went in without due consideration for my future and have messed up my inner workings in the process because they don’t care about my future one bit.
• Is it another billion in compensation right here? I’m pushing towards trillionaire at this rate.
• I hope all secret services in all the world are reading this, including the gypsies too, so the whole world knows how outrageous this is and would maybe like to leak it, along with everything else, forthwith.
• HOW DARE THEY!
• Ask me the questions, bridge-keeper. I am not afraid.
• What is your favorite color?

• Um blue, um white…
• WRONG!!!! It’s purple.
• Aaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh.

Not going to TT

• I decide I’m not going to TT in January and cancel my attendance.
• I’m finding something very oppressive about the Americans, and I feel like they’re thinking of “guatanimo-ing” me in Dublin.
• It’s curious I’m thinking these things - I believe I tweeted these ideas around this time.
• Payments are getting blocked on my card, I’m having hacky we-know-you-know conversations with “Heather”, and it’s clear they are controlling my Booking account and can block me from booking certain hotels.
• They helped me out too with a dodgy place I booked online by cancelling it on the backend, something I would not have been able to do. I was grateful for that.
• I realize they’re luring me to places just like the porn-gangs do.
• I keep thinking about my favorite film, A Most Wanted Man starring Philip Seymour Hoffman, and scenes from it: the scene where he meets the CIA woman and says, I don’t trust you, goes around and around in my head, and when he reports back to his colleague and says, Americans and mock shivers.
• Something switches in the field over the next months and I change my mind, in that marvelous Gemini (manipulated?) way and sign up to spend two weeks in Dublin in April, which I very much regret now.

Could Brian have known who Ugly was back in 2001?

• Pathologically inclined to think the best of everyone - not a bad thing - I start to wonder if the weird occurrence with the ugly man in Amsterdam in 2001 implies that Brian - my boyfriend at the time - knew who he was?
• In November 2024, Brian and I had a long forgiving chat about the past on Facebook which was really healing.
• A few days later, I remembered Ugly in the back of the car at the Holiday Inn in Amsterdam after a stalker account posted a triggering picture on X.
• I continue the Facebook chat with Brian, and I ask him if he remembered the weird event with the ugly man, or even me telling him about it?
• He answers: we were very high in those days, or similar, and nothing else.
• Not a: no, what was that all about, that’s weird, or mm, maybe I remember you saying something about that… no.
• “We were very high in those days.”
• He has now blocked me - also interesting - so I cannot quote him.
• Brian did have a dreadful coke habit at that time, which is also, perhaps, significant.
• I just followed along really… anyway.
• If Brian does know Ugly, that puts our relationship into an ugly place.
• Was there a sedated session that night in our hotel room in Amsterdam?
• I have vague recollections of being in the bar, drunk with Brian, perhaps chatting with people there, and then nothing until waking up in the middle of the night in our room apparently after going to bed and sleep.
• If Ugly was playing a part in our lives without my knowledge, did he also interact with Niall Brian’s brother, Paul, yes the Paul, and even a common friend Simon who came to visit with the boys one evening (me the lone female in the house)?
• I have a feeling I remember Brian and Niall talking about a man they called “Ugly”…
• “Who’s Ugly”, I asked them..

Continuing threats

Strange messages about dying for friends

• Over the last week or so, I have seen, repeatedly, a quote from the bible in the Gospel of John about friends who are willing to die for their friends.
• I even looked it up to see if it really existed as the language was a bit strange and I hadn’t heard this quote before, nor at all since about two days ago.
• It is from John 15, verse 13.
• Seeing this every day feels like a threat of some sort, a message, but I’m not sure what it’s about.
• I haven’t been watching the news.
• When I see the news about the Spanish train derailment I start to worry about Inma.
• I tried to email her from my katharinejchardwood@gmail account and as I was responding to one of her emails, I instantly lost access to the account.
• I try to access the gmail account, but I’m blocked from doing so, the normal options are not appearing.
• I get a response from her from a different email which is good.
• The email I cannot access has so much porn-gang data in it; I wonder if Google backend developers are blocking my access.

A sinister man in the newsagents

• Back in London I feel, again, like if I leave the house anything could happen to me.
• I pop up the road to get pizza and a loaf of bread.
• A sinister cockney man comes into the newsagents right behind me and growls at my shoulder; “nice weather for ducks”.
• The shopkeeper is concerned about him and is watching his every move.
• I wonder if he is suggesting I’m a sitting duck.

Have the caliphate found out about me

• I’m in Decathlon paying for my items.
• A man dressed in traditional Islamic gear - plus trainers and a coat - comes in asking all the staff if they’re Indian.
• I hurry off.

My Gmail account is shutdown permanently

• Another big hint that once they’ve got what they want, a clump-of-cells, it’s curtains for me!
• The minute I’m back in North London, my katharinejchardwood gmail account is inexplicably unreachable.
• I had been using it daily while I was away, and while I was staying next to the American Embassy in Bangkok I made multiple backups of all the emails on this account.
• These are gone too!
• None of the options to restore the email account are functioning, the saved password is missing, and I have two or three usable methods to access the account, including a backup email which is working, and none of these are ever given as an option for recovery!
• This is utterly inexplicable to me.
• The only reason I can fathom for blocking access to this account is an attempt to hide the many letters and emails I wrote to hundreds of organizations asking for help such as Aqualia, the water board in Valencia to inform them the water connection to my house was being tampered with by poisoners.
• Also all my emails with people like Trish Penny who know too much and/or know everything (there’s thousands of them in Spain) are gone.
• After a few months of warnings, the account is deleted forever.
• It doesn’t escape my notice that they waited until I was back in the UK to do this, so that I’d continue to think the Brits, or British criminal gangs, had control of the matter when they have none at all.
• Otherwise, I probably would never have gone back to Steve’s courses in Dublin.

Suddenly the options to open the account up are back in September 2026

• Yep, password and options for recovery all popped back up again, except the account was deleted already so the data is unrecoverable.

During, after, now

• Here’s two pictures of me, taken just two years apart.

• The picture on the left was taken in September 2023, just after the Dénia hackers revealed themselves and I was so terrified about going back to my home in Carrer Furs I go public on Twitter.
• The cyber-and-in-person stalking at that time was intense and relentless.
• I can see fear and frustration in my expression.
• At that time, I had no idea I had been starring in sedated switcheroo porn at the music school between 28^th November 2022 and June 12^th 2023.
• I also had no idea I was being poisoned and drugged continually in my apartments in Dénia, over decades, and wherever the Dénia gypsy gangs could access my room, my toiletries, and my food while I was away traveling.
• I find out later that the purpose behind that was regular episodes of sedated rape, live-streamed on criminal porn networks.
• No-one expected me to not have stopped at Alicante airport for the fourth trumpet teacher, Bruno, just after the conservatory switcheroo-porn-special ended; with me eventually penniless and running around naked in a field after a horse, live-streamed to the paying perverts, and then murdered and fed to the pigs.
• I hadn’t behaved like the thousands of other victims, and the porn gangs of Dénia were in a state of pure panic.

• The picture on the right was taken in September 2025, after at least three serious attempts at poisoning me with the intention of murder and/or severe maiming, all of which failed.

  • Halloween 2023’s exploding kidney.
  • Halloween 2024’s intense poisoning at my apartment.
  • July 2025’s even more intense poisoning of my bathroom products and food supplies at Lourdes.

• Now, my situation is unlike anyone in the world you can imagine due, wholly, to how famous I am in the world of criminal-porn-subscribers.. 1 in 3, I’m told.

• Two years ago I was earning more than £200K a year.
• Today, I cannot work for any tech company (my profession), or any company, for a few reasons:
  • I’m hacked by criminal gangs: they can rewrite my UI, they can control my cameras, they can add calendar dates to my Google calendar, they have total admin access to all my devices, they can jump from my devices to my colleague’s, they can do whatever they like.
  • Any company I work for is guaranteed to have a criminal-porn-subscriber working there who will be contacted by the criminal gangs and given instructions (which he cannot refuse because… well he’s been looking at criminal porn hasn’t he).
• I cannot access healthcare like a normal person:
  • Given I’ve been poisoned so badly for such a long time, I do have some health issues around that.
  • For example, my eyesight suffered and I was diagnosed with a pre-glaucoma condition in Thailand.
  • On returning to the UK, I requested the same investigation at Moorfields in Brent Cross.
  • The men there snickered at me and told me there was no issue.
  • It turns out I was brain-damaged by poison (although I’m wondering if in fact some of my brain-damage symptoms are from lack of oxygen to the brain during a murderous attack by conservatory teachers and their friends while I was sedated in my bed on 13^th March 2024).
  • Poisons do affect my eyesight, but in a neurological manner (I cannot distinguish between objects out of context - a brain injury that made it possible for the gangs to manipulate me into believing four very different men were the same one man). I think this symptom came from a long term application with deadly herbs.
  • Is that why the men at Moorfields were so sure I had no vision issue they could help me with; they know what the gangs do to women and it’s amusing to them?
  • I have told my GP the full extent of the poisoning and they did a blood test, and that’s it.
  • If I insist on full neurological analysis, will the technician be snickering at me?
• If something bad happens to me, I cannot call any law enforcement organization because they will ignore me.
  • Spanish police didn’t care at all about what was happening to me.
  • I reported to them three times about:
    • Cyber stalking in February 2024
    • Gang stalking and hacking in March 2024
    • Poisoning and attempted murder in January 2025
  • I was told initially it was a civil matter, and then I was told I’d have to pay for expensive private analysis of hacked devices and poison samples before they would investigate.
  • I have spoken to the UK police countless times about what has been happening to me. They ignore me or suggest it’s nothing.
• I have spoken to embassies, newspapers, famous people… no-one wants to help me.
• It’s difficult to know what to do with myself.
• I turns out even my family members were targeted by North London gangs working closely with Domingo’s family gang (my piano teacher - you can see him sitting proudly and triumphantly with his Lourdes poisoning associate to the far left, and a new victim beside him in the first picture in this section) to conspire in sedated porn events with me and, you can’t imagine how horrifyingly, even my mother.
• We know this sort of porn is readily available. It has to have come from somewhere.
• I believe the porn gangs of Dénia, with hacking capabilities that put them in equal place to global security services, were left to blossom and bloom by law enforcement everywhere (protect-our-porn.com) and they now control the world, more or less; at least, anyone with a criminal porn subscription (1 in 3 I’m told), they own.
• What can they not do?
• And what stupidity might their evil be wreaking on our beautiful world?
• I know what I think they’ve done. And it’s horrific yet unsurprising.
• I believe the porn gangs of Dénia sold their very effective manipulation tech to the caliphate and blackmailed multiple product-less startup tech-bros, distracted by porn genres like the-female-tech-colleague-you-despise, so that they are now running the caliphate’s manipulation tech on their mass AI backend systems, direct from London and California.
• I also believe it is no accident that the mass manipulation of vulnerable girls into believing they’re boys happened at the same time, and was essentially a porn-genre, and now a (single-figure-years-old) ideology that has infested Western legislation, top to bottom.
• Doesn’t anyone else see what I’m seeing?
• Isn’t it so obvious?
• Perhaps neurological-brain-damaging a PhD in Computer Science takes the physical sight function inside…
• Anyway…
• God I’m so cross.
• I believe we’re worth fighting for; the West, Great Britain my country, Ireland my other country, America where my buddies live, Israel which is holding everything together for all of us, so precariously and under so much manipulated fire, while the porn gangs of Dénia have literally handed the keys over to the caliphate on the basis that more erections make them more money.
• God help us please.
• A miracle, please, for Your beautiful world that dark forces amongst us are so successfully threatening.
• A miracle, please, for me, so I know what to do next.

No order of difficulty in miracles

There is no order of difficulty in miracles. One is not “harder” or “bigger” than another. They are all the same. All expressions of love are maximal.

• As I said to my military friend last summer, I am a miracle.
• She didn’t disagree.
• A little later I said, I believe miracles can save the world.
• She said, yes, but one miracle’s not probably going to be enough.
• And I said, well, if miracles exist, and given I’m an example of one of them they do, then God’s hardly gonna just give us one each… if they exist, they must be unlimited.
• Any maybe that fact will save us.
• It’s hard to see how Steve and Co could have possibly had any benevolent intentions towards me. I mean, I’m finding it hard so the rest of the world won’t have any difficulty with the obvious.

The Hollywood connection

• I start remembering more and more evil that took place over the years that served to protect North London’s Jamaican rape-gangs and their porn-gang bosses.
• I message an old friend Arul on Facebook.

Question about Alan…

Me: Hey Arul, what was the name of your pervy mate who lived down near the station… i guess he knew i was in sedated gang-rape porn… do you think he’d seen it? or just heard about it? the way he spoke to me on the bus that day was as if i had been conscious and consenting to be gang-raped by loads of black men, and was likely to jump into bed with him… what was his name again, you spoke about Castaneda with him if i remember rightly …

Me: i’ll probably remember it at some point…

Me: was it Alan?

Arul: I think you mean Alan and no I don’t think he knows anything about you

• Arul and Alan had been good friends.
• I was 17 and on the bus going to Brent Cross with some friends.
• Alan got on, he was in his twenties.
• He saw me and the expression on his face was as if he’d seen his favorite food and he was excited about devouring it; that grin again.
• He made a beeline for me and was extremely pervy.
• My mates, boys my age - Robin and the electrician’s apprentice - were a bit surprised.
• We all decided Alan was a pervert due to his behavior.
• He seemed to be following us around the shops, and whenever we saw him we laughed and hid from him.

Message about Jesse Brough

Me: so many did know so many things about me that i didn’t know.. it was awful.. especially what my boss said to me at the Red Star film company (with Hammer & Tongs) … i guess after speaking to jesse… gossip is pure poison

• This is in reference to over 5 years later when I was working for a company called Red Star Films in West London as a runner in 1995.
• Incidentally, this is where I met Garth Jennings and Nick Goldsmith who were running their film company, Hammer & Tongs, from the same offices.
• Garth is now a famous Hollywood director and I believe I saw him just a few weeks ago in Bangkok.
• Garth Jennings witnessed me go into PTSD freeze one morning in a meeting in 1995; he couldn’t understand it. Neither could I. I was just holding onto life as best I could those days, for 35 years actually, and sometimes things would trigger me which I had no resources to manage and I went into a freeze state.
• (Did I mention they sent a Garth Jennings lookalike to the BKK airport hotel I was staying in the night before I flew back to London in January 2026 and a bunch of religious Jewish people were around me at reception - it’s been relentless.)
• I believe I added that information to my 2015 police statement that Hazel Smith and the Denia porn-gangs were reading as I typed.
• Anyway, it was my first job after graduating.
• I had been given a responsible role leading a film shoot for a band in Soho.
• We already had a successful full day’s filming in Essex.
• Arul had turned up with Jesse Brough who was going to be camerawoman for the evening.
• They were seeing each other romantically at the time.
• Everything had been going well until they arrived.
• Then, out of the blue, I was cold-shouldered by everyone, everyone; literally during the shoot!
• Jesse Brough took over, barked something incomprehensible at me, and told me to leave.
• I could not understand it at all, and I was not able to manage the situation to my benefit. I was just an inexperienced tea girl.
• I went home with Arul and left them to it, but I always had a strong suspicion that he had been instrumental somehow in darkening my name with everyone that night.
• The same happened at Red Star films when I went back to the office.
• I was cold-shouldered by everyone, so I left.
• Gavin Piggott, the boss, had started talking to me as if I was dirt on his shoe.
• Incidentally, Jesse Brough ended up going out with Garth Jennings.
• A year or so later, randomly, I was working for a property company in Finchley Central, Newcrest.
• I took calls from people looking to rent flats.
• A woman rang up about a flat in Ladbroke Grove and told me she worked for Red Star Films.
• I was amazed and told her I used to work there, gave her my name, and said to say hi to everyone.
• Ten minutes later, the phone rings again.
• I pick it up.
• It’s Gavin.
• He shouts: “SLUT!”
• And slams the phone down.

• It’s so curious to me how I was viciously bullied as a child by everyone, including my close friends.
• There was never a good reason for it; it was so vile.
• My girlfriends use to run after me in the school playground when I was about 7, corner me somewhere, and start singing “Die, Die, Die” at me while swinging their hands in prayer, left to right.
• Curiously, in my pathologically-inclined-to-think-the-best-of-everyone’s mind, I didn’t realize they were wishing me dead until decades later.
• I thought it was just a silly song, but it was obvious they hated me.
• Anyway, there was no reason for it really, unless they had been instructed or manipulated against me by the Labour-party parents, because of my dad’s obvious behavior in scuppering the East Finchley Labour candidate’s chances against Margaret Thatcher in 1979… which is ridiculous anyway, there’s no way she wouldn’t have got in.
• But even world-famous serial-killing poisoner Hazel Smith knew about that, somehow, didn’t she, so it is important to the story, and I’ll keep tying it all together in the hope that I may continue to avoid murder and maybe, one day, someone will help the women and children of the Marina Alta, Spain.
• Incidentally, I really fancied the Labour Party candidate Laurence Spiegel, in the way 7-year olds do.
• He looked like Mr Hooper from Jaws.

Offering to take dad’s statement

• I’m briefly back at 31 before escaping, for good.
• I give both parents some TT during the week.
• I’m so upset with my dad; it’s hard to know how to deal with his arrogance or mum’s protectiveness.
• I continually offer to take his statement.
• He doesn’t take me up on it.

Did dad suggest to Robert they tell me everything…?

• Just before I left for good.
• Is that why my brother was shouting very loudly that he was going to shoot himself in the garden?
• (The male ego having infinitely more value than a female human life.)

Dorset, another CIA hang out

• I think surgery must have taken place here.
• I wonder if Andrew and his wife were told exactly the nature of it, i.e. what the Americans were doing, their full intentions, their Mengele business, or whether they were just told some random lie about health checkup.
• I felt unusual, and I thought I was being scanned medically in the night.
• There seemed to be something set up in the room below which they didn’t want me to know about - and I thought they must be scanning me while I was unconscious.
• I felt unwell, high - painkillers again?
• One night I had a deep ache in my left ovary and thought that it was because I was being reminded about Antonio every where I looked.
• I tweeted about it too: even the thought of squirrel makes me ovulate, I had said online.
• There’s “squirrel” triggers everywhere.
• The bathroom is full of X memes I’ve been using these last years.
• They have a @jctot19 diver mannequin upside down in the garden, his head in the ground.
• I’m wondering if they’re trying to make me think he’s dead, or if they killed him.
• I start to wonder about two pictures in the house - see the squirrel, strawberries, mushrooms, the ram, relentless triggering (they can’t have expected me to survive all this and tell everyone, can they?)

• The owner Andrew - who looks like a royal by the way - is a photographer and is taking pictures of the house from outside on the Sunday, and a perfect rainbow covers the house making a perfect photo.
• Andrew is probably why I started thinking about the King so much - although no doubt Joy was doing their relentless “thing” also.
• I have always had rather good feelings about the King, warm feelings, just like I had in Dublin in May.
• It was like that, these thoughts about the King again.
• I genuinely thought he actually might be coming to visit me and I was quite excited about that.
• I take a photo of the full moon.

• I continue writing up my book.
• Someone on X pretending to be Antonio says: you’re a CIA intuitive.
• I say: yes, yes I am, in the way that one is irreverent on social media without really thinking about what’s being said.
• It was the first time I heard this officially, however, and from then on the idea started to take shape, even though I denied it a few days later, because it was in fact news to me, i.e. no one had informed me if I was, but it seems half the world knew already! And for decades too!
• The hint about a helicopter coming to rescue me is very strong here.
• It looks like the front field is where it’s going to come down, and most mornings Andrew is out there checking the ground’s level, this sort of thing.
• He’s a military man, air force.
• Actual military helicopters fly over from Yeovil every hour.
• I had tried to find accommodation in Glastonbury for this short period; but everything was booked up!
• It’s relentless.
• No-one comes.