Yesterday, I found a printed A4 in my postal box from an organization that previously did not respond to my email and written communication that I can always send them an email or written communication. Very funny.

(Anyone can leave a leaflet in your mailbox. Anyone can get into your mailbox here. (Total piece of cake.) Anyone can set up a gmail account pretending to be xyz.

There are currently also people going around locally, pretending to be police officers, who offer to take people’s possessions to safeguard them so that they can’t be stolen because “there are currently many burglaries”.)

I’ve previously also found a letter from a store providing beds for older adults – addressed to me in person, with my name and address – complaining that I had not been present at their recent sales pitch. (I had such a bed. It was left behind here. I gave it away.) Oh, wait, no, it was chairs for older adults, not beds, that that store was presenting at its sales pitch. I sent the store an email. No reply. (When I left a question or complaint or review on Google, Google removed it.)

Someone also once rang my doorbell at around midnight. In this building, that is annoying for a large number of people around you.

I don’t care what kinds of insults the Marloesjes and the Murphys and the Jeroentjes blurt out at me. (2 July 2024, 18:15 Sorry, Jeroen one of two: I now think some people had probably fed you bs about me. That would explain why you behaved so weirdly. You must have been on edge.) Those insults reveal who they are and how clueless they are. They say nothing about me. I can’t do a thing about anything. All I can still do – again – is shrug. Just like in Portsmouth, all I can do is pace and sleep, basically. Okay, in Portsmouth I could also read library books and provided I had shoes without holes, go for walks. But in Portsmouth, I got pestered a lot by complete strangers.

In 2019, after my first four escape attempts, I informed GVJ that I needed to be able to disappear. Really disappear.

I’d earlier already asked Portsmouth Police if they could help me fake my death.

(Does that, perhaps, give anyone a clue of the conditions I was living in?)

In 2011, before he became a city councillor, I discussed the matter with the person who is now Portsmouth’s City Council leader if I am not mistaken. Back then, HE replied that I needed to move away, get away from these people whoever they were. By then, I had zero money, no longer any income and so I could no longer move away. But by 2013, when I got the money from Holland, I figured that “it” would surely fizzle out and stop. Again, if I had moved away then, I still wouldn’t have known that I really needed to “disappear”. (Without that inheritance, I would be dead now, I know now. I would have died years ago.)

At the end of 2019, I cashed out some of my smaller Dutch pensions to survive. There had been some changes in Dutch law that nobody had told me about. If I remember correctly, I was too late to still cash out one of them that could really have made a difference.