When my hard drives were illegally taken from me by corrupt justice pervert policemen acting under the orders of Special Branch and Sir Iain Banks, I must confess that I had a bit of a blub. Right from the depths of my intestine.
Since then nothing has made me cry. I've often felt on the edge of tears, feeling them welling up inside, but nothing comes. Funny that. Bawling like a bairn o'er a bit of a computer, but not when I was imprisoned, not whilst, well anything. I sometimes wonder why I don't cry. On occasion I almost do, but only on occasion. I was having a bucket of wine at a bar the other day, and a children's ambulance went past. Nearly. I felt there were tears deep down. Then there was another piece of news out of the blue, related to my family. On such occasions tears almost come.
I have never, cried for them though. Just for my research subjects.
I think it's because I'm special, because I've been chosen, self deprecation is out of the question.
I keep a cheery outlook and a big happy grin on my face. This proves that I am innocent. Everyone notices my shiny happy look. many edge away from me as I pass to get a better look. mothers drag their children away from me. I expect the it's because they're jealous and can't be as happy as I can, under the most incredible and amazing circumstances. Sometimes I feel like a member of Churchill's Secret Army because I am so good at dealing with crisis and keeping my pecker up. People say to me, 'everything that you're going through, and you've got this lively smile on your face all the time!"
Even the lawyers don't bother with the sympathy and gentleness that they first gave me, that they extend to clients in extraordinary situations.
I wonder why that is? Probably because they're intimidated by a woman with immense and detailed knowledge of criminal law. All won by experience.
The endless, 'never ending storeeeee' about my confiscated hard drives containing Special Branch material (unconnected to the criminal case) continues, with the Metropolitan police and CPS refusing experts and my counsel access, except under absurd circumstances ( eg constant surveillance by a police officer) which no less than Five Court experts are stating that they simply can't work with. Thankfully my really quite good lawyers have won a major battle.
My solicitors, accompanied by a Special Branch officer, are to examine it all with respect to ascertaining whether all the miscellaneous property relating to my research, unlawfully confiscated in the context of this affair, contains direct undisclosed Special Branch files. ( It doesn't, nothing does except the hard drives. 19th century revelations, yes. Special Branch files, no.) The moment that's established, it is all returned to me.
This is my defence. Having loads of old photos of stuff I copied from the National Archives will prove that I didn't harass anyone.
This evidence will prove that I didn't send all the emails and comments that I did and I will be released.
Then I'll get my precious hard drives back. And my stuffed fruitback. It's got sentimental memories for me. I remember when I was awarded it at my graduation as a special prize. I waved it above my head and the whole class chanted 'Fruitbat, Fruitbat' as I ran around the room, giggling fit to bust.
There is plenty of evidence on my hard drives to prove my innocence in this harassing and stalking case:
- 50 Out of focus pictures of old sketches
- 7 Newspaper clippings from the Weekly Daily Evening Standard (Morning Edition)
- 1 Ledger book with really old writing
- 3 Copies of ' The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes' illustrated
- 1 Map of the London Underground (.jpg)
- 1 Article on Victorian Tobacconists
- 1 Wikipedia entry on Walter Snickers
All of this proves that I didn't harass people by sending them hundreds of emails.
I. Want. My. Hard. Drives. Back. I love them more than my children. I only shed tears over them, not my family, not my child, not out of sorrow or a natural reaction to the sadness that the world contains. Only my hard drives.
My precious, precious hard drives.
I'm so glad and relieved that they are still safe. I made them safe. I protected them and now I will fight to get them back and fight with everything I have. Nobody should stand in between a mother and her motherboard.
I will do anything to get my hard drives back. Sorry Dad, I can't see you right now, I've got to get my beautiful babies back into my bosom.
It's about priorities. He'll understand.
Today's sandwich was Mutton dressed as Lamb laid in a club gutter salad and was bought in the usual way.
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