Those were the days, yes I can racall it like it was yesterday.
I was at London org but we had the same fun, but better because we couldnt eat, no wages, all the money had to go on the fucking tent. I hallucinated from lack of sleep and food. Sometimes I sneaked out in the middle of the night and begged for money to buy bruised fruit and veg from Greek st, or a stale loaf from Schmidts delikatessen. I recall trying to cook a tin of lentils when Id managed to get some money, on a addressograph plate over a parafin stove by the light of candlewax in an old baccy tin using chalk as a wick. We were certainly going up while the world went down.
That Nazi mental projection thing is interresting my parents got dragged there, totally raw meat and that was exactly what he said.
It was Kathy Ootenbogart, in External comm, she was later on the RPF, as was I, liked her too, but not in that way. I might indeed have been the camp co-auditor you mentioned, in the Stonelands basement. I cerainly went down drains to pull out missing jewlery. I also went down a drain in stonelands, all the liquified cow shit from the farm next door had filled the drain and it was my pleasure to get in there and help the liquids flow into the pond, by the boat house. The RPF was housed at the bathouse when I arrived, earlier some blond guy I didnt know had died in the RPF or was dying and his still living body was dropped outside the infirmary with instructions to say there was no connections with $cientology. Yep they were fun days.
It was after the worst of the nightmare that I started the RPF, as a class four staff member, my recollection of the time was patchy to say the least as I was still vastly underweight and having to dig the foundations of the castle, I remember that Kathy and i found it funny that we were both starting to walk like men, from all the digging and barrow pushing.
I rememeber Nev Chamberlain, and tried to bullbait him about his Mrs when I was there. He was decidedly flat on it though, most disapointing.