I Live And Learn.

When the bastards learn what it is that makes your life pleasant and dare I say, tolerable, they waste no time in trying to abuse this suspicion at their earliest opportunity.
So for example, if they suspect that your 'Invisible Sun' is writing on the www, or anywhere for that matter, they will try to cut your rights off at the knee.
Thus the power cut, to divorce me from my pursuits.
My responses?
Either remove their agent(the rapid route to criminalisation, so much easier in these days of no defence) or buy a UPS to restore my right defensively.
Which latter is the course I have chosen first.
Of course, Nat Taggart's option was to build a railway, and when the bastards tried to cut that right, he killed one.
Which worked in the 19th century. Or in the superlative fiction of Ayn Rand.
Of course, tomorrow I find out whether or not I have succeeded in delivering myself entirely from these life-forms' clutches.
Maybe it is just coincidence; but two weeks ago I was getting all excited about my first trip abroad in two years.
Then they hit me.
Again, as is so often the case when something good is on the horizon. And I don't agree with Frank Sinatra;that is not life. That is the chronic operating method of the bastards.
Well now. In another month I could be out of their reach again.
They aren't so numerous.
They also cannot or will not make much effort to hide.
Look for the out-of-place young creep, hanging around your street corner, clocking you and filing your face away for his bosses, finding you again. Not an ordinary type, a face far too cunning and busy to fit.
They have access to local authorities, they have access to electoral roles, they have access to bent business - there is much of this in Yorkshire, which is tied up pretty tightly by the bretheren.
I'm sure if I do get out, they will keep trying; but what to do? No neighbours, no chance, just the direct approach.
Which would be unwise of them. Even assuming they found me at all.
Filthy bastards that they are.