LeggingsRoyalescam5025d@60+com

I was almost too absorbed with getting ready for Christmas, that I almost forgot to go pick up a prescription.
I looked out of the window and sighed at the misty grey weather. Wasn't even rain. Just general dampness. Still with my heart - I needed the pills.

i got to the Pharmacy fairly quickly despite being too well wrapped up. Inside the shop, I ventured around the shelves looking over the Christmas leftovers. Most of the good stuff had long ago gone.

As I was at the counter, quietly minding my own business, a youngish man, fairly tall, thin leapt out of the adjoining passageway.
"Is it her?" a voice came from further in. The voice of a mannikin.
"It's the one on the radio this morning," he said, not minding if he was heard or not. Had he heard I was partially deaf? I just have a different hearing range... very useful if you're a Seaking.
"The one that called him Dr. Death... "
"Not to worry, I've dealt with her. She's on something already."

Dr. Death sends innocent beneficiaries to Mental hospitals. He gets them put on pills that then get banned for causing quick deaths. He tries to up the original diagnosis in order to keep up the pressure. It took me a year or so to shift away and become 'sane' again and off the register. I was off the pills as quick as possible. He made a noise... as someone told him all the above. A dominatrix perhaps a thin one.

These are the voices that strive to keep me awake all night. Where do these young people/students com from? Are they courtesy of Liverpool, or nearer. I'm not on the radio, although they've put a repeater on me when I think, and she yells it out constantly (the children's game). I can also help myself if I wish to the frequency. Although not often. They do not have my permission to do this to me. I think of Liverpool - since the radio folk who used to be at the UEA when I used to use the library, came from there. Along with a local man, came from Scar...gh, I knew at school, Psychologist (might be, he describes himself as a scientist.) became the D. repeat... of Dean's there. He knew my first ex at cheshire; we all worked at the same hospital for a bit. I've seen both the ex's in all of this.
Horrid isn't it?

"Its the other one we want..." said another voice, "Not her. The other one knows all about the will. "
"I can't try her anyway," the younger voice said regretfully,, "She has a hat on."

Which will I thought standing there, like a sitting duck. If it's my Grandfather: George Wookey, did he claim I was telepathic, and why haven't they talked to me? And who is the other one? And does the Q know her? And does she know its the Q's?
And there's a general impression that others are asking questions... I hope they find the answers. I can't ask the questions, I'll be readmitted before I know it.
Or have they given it to the wrong people and are trying to prove they were right? Have they considered that there are others who can do it. However these others tend to mind read and not be actually the main beneficiary of his will.

There is suddenly a lot of women with arthritis around too, two sticks and all. Are they about to pay me for the arthritis trials i was in? Or has someone paid someone else. someone with my medial notes?