I have been aware that my blog has been dormant for several months. I have had a long spell of chest infections this winter unfortunately brought on by having to live in a very damp apartment. The gentle sound of water running down the windows at night does not always bode well.
The last few months I have been engaged in the preparation and writing of a book, a segment of which will shortly appear on my blog. This part is about my first husband, Dr. Ernst Friedrich Blumberg. I have wanted to write about him for a very long time.
There have also been many interruptions with the constant thefts from my apartment of documents, letters, photos and other papers. My cupboards and cases are constantly searched and items regularly removed. If I sound blasé about the petty thievery it is not to downplay the fact that I know that my premises and property are being violated nor do I take Break and Entry lightly. Rather, it is a sign of resignation that as a 76 year old woman going to unscrupulous landlords and a variety of police stations in a variety of countries has proved fruitless.
There is an unpleasant demeanour in those one would have expected help from which emanates a smug disconcern at best or a relishing at worst with the implication that the senior complaining is paranoid. It has become abundantly clear to myself that many people in all levels of authority belong to some strange groups with strange agendas who actually enjoy coercing the weak and vulnerable while hiding behind their clandestine organizations. How and why I ended up on their hit list I will probably never know. What truly upsets me in my latter years is the overt cowardice of people I once claimed as friends and their refusal to even provide a snippet of information .
If any of the above needs qualifying I would simply like to say that when I was forced to sleep rough at 74 years of age in two different European countries and desperately reached out to the names in my address book only one came forward and regrettably that appeared to not only have strings attached to it but some leering free masonic types giggling in the background. What a price we pay for wanting to do our own thing in life, hurt nobody else, remain true to family and friends but ultimately commit the worst sin of all which is to contract the poverty disease and not join some wretched fraternal boy scout or church congregation.
The thefts not being considered enough to deal with I received another shock recently while using household, domestic , electrical equipment and the fuses went. I could not obtain a 5 amp fuse to fit the fuse box for the light circuit in my flat and as it was after hours I had to call The Northern Ireland Emergency Electrical Services. Yet another kind of shock. The worthy gentleman who arrived at my flat discovered that the seals on my 3 primary 80 amp fuses were broken and the cable connecting the fire detectors had been pulled out. I also discovered that my electricity had been isolated as the repairman confirmed that my electrical supply had been isolated from the primary supply coming in at street level. This struck me as so bizarre I confirmed it with his boss in their office who cheerfully told me he was quite right and that I was showing up with a non-active power supply
I told him I had recently changed energy providers to which he replied,”I don’t think you understand, your meter point reading is showing up as inactive.” I asked him,”Well, who am I paying my monthly service provider cheques to then?”,to which he chuckled and ominously confirmed my fears that “there are a lot of strange things going on right now.”
If all this isn’t enough a recent request to Equifax to provide me with my credit report and credit score came back with only my address on it. When I telephoned them and got through to their call center in Manila they spent half an hour repetitively wasting my time forcing me to go over and over my address with them. They had no records of my bank accounts, credit cards, priority and non-priority debts.
In short, it reminded me of when I went to the Housing Executive in Canterbury only to find all my files had been digitally purged.