October 25, 2012

Operation Yew Tree and Me - Part I

I started by emailing the NSPCC.  The media was saying people should contact with them or their local police.  I didn't want to call the local police although I do have the name of someone I talked to when I first moved here and a social worker who I also discussed things with.  I was told it was being investigated but they were very busy I have hear nothing since.  My therapist that is destructive for me.  They forwarded what I sent to the Met.  Felt great when I saw .met in my inbox, from an actual police person, with their own email address and a direct dial to Operation Yew Tree.  I sent of my details and waited.

Last Thursday I was riddled with it all and anxious about the transvaginal the following day so I phoned and asked for the some officer.  Half an hour later I got the call back.  I repeated much of the stuff I have said to Woman's Aid workers and whoever Woman's Aid workers had wanted me to repeat it to.  She was very sympathetic and friendly but I'm pretty limited into how much I can go into at first contact.  Especially when wee man came in needing help getting back into his grim reaper Halloween custom.  The usual suspects and Savile as a ring leader.  Aberdeen police refusal to admit any knowledge of me despite countless statement, arrests and working as an informer.  She said someone would come up and take a statement.

After Panorama, the helplessness over the chronic pain despite and apparently 'completly normal' pelvic area becoming more manageable and I had to update them.  Memories have been clearing because of all the press coverage because I'm talking and writing.  I'm certain I was taken to every building they showed.  Merion's words about Duncroft; celebs, vulnerable young women in big old buildings caused not so much a bell to ring but a massive ever reverberating clang.  I wrote about the murder parties that happened after the paedo sex ring parties and how I used to wonder why they bothered to put a life jacket on me every time we crossed water.  Wrote of the girl who had hair like my friend and how she seemed so happy when we knew she was next to die.  I think Savile may have referred to her as Rachael but I'm not certain.

I'm scared to try and focus on the faces that were a feature throughout all of the years in case I can put names to them.  One thing I do know is that the very sound, the shape, the pattern of the initials 'BBC' has made me feel as if surrounded in tar and being sucked downward for as long as I can remember.  Making the Houses of Parliament look like fun house.  There were times when I knew why I felt that way and walked the streets in comfy, perfectly fitting boots, wearing warm, soft layers with a mind sharpened into sharp, cutting focus.  

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