October nights draw in = 21/10/17 early am

I had a day off today, and went into town, crossed the road, and stopped. In front of me was a younger man on the street floor, knees bent up, pitiful, drawn back into the building. He was trying to get away from a well built almost portly chap, looked a bit like the Bishop bending over him.

“Whats up, son?” he asked, “Did last night not go well? Didn't she have you in?”

“No,” croaked out the man, struggling to get away without standing up, “If she had of come out, I'd have told her everything! I'm sick of all of you, leave me alone!” He crawled a few feet away.

I watched. I was about 3 feet away.

“Now then old man,” he said jovially, “How else can we say she isn't a good person, if we can't get her out!”

“Won't do it!” said the street guy shortly. “And she's right behind you!”

He turned around. This was the first I'd seen the demon up close. He was dribbling in his excitement, and possibly his excrement... he wasn't a pretty or possessing sight! He blanched. He hurried away. I nodded to the man and left him, when I came out, he'd gone. Why do these people end up on the street. He wasn't rough, he spoke nicely, he was only perhaps 30. He looked as if he'd been beaten. I knew if I spoke to him or gave him anything, he'd have been taken off and beaten up again. I think perhaps we have worse than the Rooneys!

It's been one of the noisier nights with the lovely lot giving it some hassle outside and inside with the house shakers from Stoke-on-Trent. They point them at the brickwork and let rip with a sonic noise which makes me feel if my inner ear is vibrating so fast that the wax is melting! It's the equipment from the last place I was at, at lowest point its a bed alarm, and the top a deafening vibrating swing!

They are waiting for drugs and condemnation for me, as they strive to prove me unworthy for whosoever is paying them. Could it be because they are proven to be 'useful' that they seek to be chosen themselves?

Last night two men appeared to be upstairs outside the toilet vent, and puffing. I slept very well and awoke feeling a bit dazed. Fresh air revived me enough to get up and on with the days plans.

I had a list of things to do. So I left them to whatsoever took their fancy and went to do it! Fun huh?

I had such hopes for peace here. I brought no axes except I wanted to find more out, and prove it to be mine if possible. I heard they planned building works at Dragon Hall. Some time ago the City Council here advised me that it had been once mine. Now that I thought it had been. Having Amnesia I am never totally sure. I believed I'd worked hard for money to buy it. As Yards like Dragon Hall really is should be bought – simply because they are loved and valued more for the endeavour we undertake to do it. This is traditionally the way.

I asked the writing group using Dragon Hall to leave, only I hadn't any proof to carry it though, and they ignored me totally. As people now know I don't like the group anyway, and I asked City Council and the Police to help. I know that some did try to help, yet the group stuck to the Hall like pus. After all they aren't paying rent, and have almost managed to steal it. That's traditional in other groups.

I went to Land Registry to find out for sure if I still owned the Hall, and to my shock I don't. Some years ago it was given to the City Council, after I had left the family I was brought up by, and had small children of my own.

I had no say in that, I had to swallow bitter tears and write to the City Council and tell them of my discovery.

I let them know about the trust fund I put away for the Hall, and nowhere else as well, so that they would be able to have funds to save it. I tried to find it using the Bishop of Norwich find your trust fund group, only I got no help there. Its locally felt by some, that he only does it if its available for the church to use for other purposes or you pay a bit over to him etc... stealing is traditional in some groups!

I'm going to use the Land Registry again soon to find out more, however it takes time.

Tonight we have some eager drug dealers about, and so far there are mutters about my size, am I large enough to get a load inside? Etc... etc... ugly customers all told.

While I made a face at the offending wall. I've no way of knowing where the voice comes from... yet I know for sure its real, because other people on the bus won't sit near me, because close too anyone can hear it too! Its on the spy equipment I was once given long ago, its still working merrily away... or they've triggered it somehow...

Did they leave the Military with that? Stealing?

I heard a woman mutter softly, “I could do her anyway, Then she can't get out of it, then she'll be properly discredited, then it will be alright!”

Someone is paying a lot of money for this! Their version of weed stinks so bad that most would pay them to take it away!

I used to live in the house in All Saints Green, just down the road from here, which is where we must have walked from to the Mill when the deaths occurred. It was nearly all rough heath then, no flats before the Mill just common land. The house is derelict now, left, empty, and as soon as I was noticed looking into it, it was snatched up by the firm that Aleister Crowley and myself named together. I think other royals now use it. I'm glad they are still in business. Its all jobs! There is a demolition firm in the hotel that one of the relations built. I think its the same one – I recall. It was half built when I was last in Norwich before I left to grow up!