As promised a while ago, first extract, in fact the introduction to my AutoBio.

From IN LIMBO To IN the LURCH Sex, Drugs and Brexit
State of play
Sitting at an online poker table, facebook doubledown casino, through the night into the wee small hours, playing for worthless chips with only snippets of conversation. Friending other players to qualify for more free chips to play with rather than to be friends with. But this was my first real step back into the online world after a long break and Yet to tackle the real world. I was stepping out of a very dark place.
The only times I would go out the house was walking my dog, a big lolloping 9 stone Rottweiler called Grouch and a trip to the shop for that days dinner. I’d get few visitors, who likes to visit the morbidly depressed? and I would speak to few people on my daily 5 minutes outside. My dog was my only real friend. I had pretty much lost faith in people, in humanity itself. We are capable of such amazing things yet barely scratch the surface of our true capabilities. We willingly soak up lies that suit while truths that aren’t to our liking are ignored or fought against. Running an awareness project for 6 years destroyed my faith in people’s willingness to see uncomfortable truths, even when faced with the evidence. This was the other side of my deep depression.
I had my group campaigning against the coming wars before 911, warned of the coming oil peak, of the rise of the right, now being seen clearly in its second swing of the pendulum, issues of control and manipulation including through media, I was ahead of the game yet, even with my own group, though repeating the facts like my echo, they hardly really absorbed it themselves, with a couple of exceptions. Most just took what I’d say, on faith, blindly accepting I knew what I was talking about, and smile, frown or nod at all the right points but the actually reality, I think escaped them. The whole point of the project was to open their eyes as much as the public, to see for themselves and not repeat my words like gospel. And typical of this topsy turvy world, the more my predictions came to life, the further my group seemed to drift away from being actively involved. And when I say predictions, I refer to nothing mystical. They are always based on a mix of lots of research on a very wide base and open minded contemplation, allowing the mind to follow the pattern all things follow. To be honest, once you understand the flow of things, all things, the pattern and the psychological patterns of those enacting those scenarios, the truth becomes painfully obvious.
IE The coming oil peak expected in 2006, the giant elephant in the room made ever more noticeable with the far from intelligent Oil man Bush, getting half a billion in campaign funds from big oil and his own failing oil company being bought at well above market price, the payoff. The refusal to take up renewables, though well aware of the coming peak and future shortages. The greed of powerful men wanting to squeeze every last dime of profit from oil. But some wasn’t accessible and other sources like Tar sands and fracking too expensive and environmentally controversial. The latter would become plausible as the price rocketed. It would need oil at over $100 dollars a barrel, which they more than achieved. Then there are the inaccessible fields which would need more drastic action and higher costs.
Jan 2001 I held an emergency meeting of my group, My Xmas had been spent pulling together everything I knew or suspected and the conclusions i had come to. It had to be the only thing able to make the size of change needed to make these fields available whilst keeping voters onside. WAR and it would be in more than one country. I then half joked, the only way I could see it happening in the two year time frame I was predicting was if they blew up the Pentagon or bombed the WTC and blamed the Arabs. 9 11 was a very surreal day for me.

I was used to my curse of Cassandra, to know the future but to never be believed and thus powerless to change it. But those I worked with could see, had heard all the predictions, some had helped me trawl through the information coming in. But the truth became uncomfortable after 911, so they closed their eyes. I still have trouble getting my head round that. Add that to my failure to find my kids, even with getting all round the country in a bus, painted up with information and graphics, getting on TV news, in the local and national papers and a few international ones, radio interviews and meeting thousands of people. Yet, never a sign of them and hope fading that there mother might see me in the media and say to them, that’s your Dad. When you have little, to no hope, you cling to the slightest thing. Eventually it dug me a hole it took six years to crawl out of. When I did, it was to find the world I had predicted was now cold hard, brutal reality. This was never going to be easy.

After a search that lasted for 8 years and had covered from Glasgow to the south coast of Cornwall, I had failed to find two missing kids of mine and my search only ended with my physical collapse. I have suffered a messed up spine for many many years from lifting an egine after the hoist collapsed. I prolapse disc at the drop of a hat, especially if I try pick it up. I never get comfy, I never rest for long and sleep has to be aided, alcohol, weed, pills. Eventually, no sleep, constant stress from an endless search, feeling powerless, beaten and mentaly and phsically exhausted, it was too much. I retreated from the world, sold the Car, cut off the phone, the internet and shut the door. The last event that decided such drastic withdrawl was needed, a strangulated heart while driving. My stress levels and relentless pace had turned my body on itself. Depressed in the extreme, feeling guilty at giving up and in pain, like a wounded animal , I crawled under a rock, to wait and heal or die. Eventually it dug me a hole it took six years to crawl out of. When I did it was to find the world I had predicted was now cold hard, brutal reality.

After a couple of years I started charity work and it helped. After being there over two years, allowed to do my own thing and doing a brilliant job, things changed. Our project leader got laid off and suddenly it got stressful to work there. It wasn’t long before I had a list of complaints against me. They called me in to reprimand me and I reprimanded them instead and walked out with most of the other volunteers, never to return. They went bankrupt 6 months later. I tried at another charity but couldn’t deal with it, I was getting to short a temper. I was on and off with pills from the doc, in and out of depression.

For the next two years I cut off from everyone and I put my mind to growing, my only real comfort when in pain, my crutch when the world is weighing on me, my friend weed. I started developing my own strain, aimed at what my body needs. And over time it seemed to be working. Fewer anxiety attacks or worrying muscle tightening/twisting. More sleep from less pain and maybe the cloud was lifting, but only slightly, it would take finding my missing children to make any real difference. And it would be this which would tempt me back online once again.
My missing kids would be reaching the age of going online themselves, and would not be actively avoiding being found like their mother. I knew it could well bring on severe life threatening stress but was my only real path to escape the stress. Kill or cure. This was never going to be easy.

Its Jan 2013 and I’m online. The first searches have proved fruitless and I sign up for face book. I try to talk to people but have constant stress outs over idiots talkin crap. Once upon a time I could have easily re-educated them, but now, I just couldn’t deal with it. So I looked for a better format to talk with people, a smaller step to take. It wasn’t long before I discovered the poker app, doubledown casino. Somewhere I could talk or not talk, socialise without having to be social. And it was always just chit chat, often about the last hand or game tactics etc. Sometimes women and weed or beer and horses, as I remember. Light subjects which suited me fine. Picking up poker buddy friends from around the world, friends but at a safe distance who’s main topic would be the game. With this type of environment my recovery was slowly moving ahead. I was still doing searches for my kids and was sure one day, soon, I would get a hit. Just a matter of time and patience.

So this was me, sitting at an online poker table just to while away the time. Playing for worthless chips with only snippets of conversation between hands.”Nice hand, well played, didn’t see that coming, how’s your horse?” The horse was called Ruby BTW. Talking, from poker play to fluff, into the small hours, it was the closet I’d been to socialising for several years and it felt good.

Then She walks in. A young French woman called Sophie Ferrand with the tag Soso phi phi. I didn’t know this at the time but she wasn’t there to play poker, she was hunting. And it was me she singled out from the herd, at least from this herd. She only stayed for a few hands and I know we spoke but have no idea what about. Then she was gone. But, she had marked her target.

I finished playing in the early hours, as was usual and noticed a friend request. Nothing unusual there. Most, I will know about beforehand. Someone, while playing, would suggest friending. Often after casual chat. It all helps toward your daily chips but not this time. I barely recognised the name as the girl who had ghosted through earlier in the night. So I accepted without any real idea just what I was accepting into my world. She had her target, I had taken the bait and I was about to be stalked.