RR and Elizabeth. I was on my own in an empty office, which was always a busy hive of industry, with the phones constantly ringing and with dozens of police officers calling in, to bring their files of evidence for me to wade through. Imagine it as the English equivelant of your District Attorneys' Office, or Andrew's Procurator Fiscals' Office.
It was non stop from first light until close of day. I am NOT saying that I worked harder than anyone else who is reading this. It was similar to a newspaper editor's office where deadlines had to be met and authenticity had to be ckecked out. I was producing the evidence for next day's courts, on lists for each court, and of course I had to write the date at the top of each list. It required single-minded concentration and the ability to blank out any interference.
I was on my own. I was concentrating. I was not thinking of anything else. My hand kept writing the 'wrong' date. Over and over again.
I was a 'receptor' for whatever was being 'broadcast.'
On a seperate matter, my sister has a friend who has been deeply into spiritualism for many years. I considered that this friend was a bit odd and a few years ago my sister brought her to our house. I knew that the friend took some pleasure in being able to guage the 'auras' of people she met. She is actually quite good at 'reading' people. Anyway, when the friend arrived, I made a deliberate and conscious effort to put up a mental wall to not allow her to try and read me. This will sound bloody stupid to the sceptics who are reading this. Some weeks later, my sister told me that her friend had said that of all the people she had met, I was the only one who she had ever found impossible to 'read.' "It was like a jet black curtain was drawn across his mind," is how she described it.
I do believe that there is something in both of these true stories. Perhaps I am more sensitive than most when engaged with other people.
As for Elizabeth's remark about my taking part in 'debating societies,' I did not.
Elizabeth, please be more circumspect when refering to Albert's dental appendage. He is blessed with only one and finds himself getting somewhat distraught if people mention it. Poor Albert is deeply attached his tooth.
Byron 'sends his regards.'
"Bipolar is a roller-coaster ride without a seat belt. One day you're flying with the fireworks; for the next month you're being scraped off the trolley" I said that.