Like Laurence, my fellow scribe, I have been bedevilled by strange, unexplained disturbances since joining 0110. None of these incidents is particularly worrying in isolation.  But when taken together…

Who was that red-headed older woman smoking a cigarette outside the Royal Court the other night who stared at me so knowingly as I scurried by on my way to a meeting – and why did she remind me of me?  Why did I feel compelled to raise my hand at Saturday night’s meeting about alien abduction, when the speaker asked whether any of those present had experienced any of the symptoms described by abductees? And what of the mysterious gift Lara Greenway gave to each of us scribes when we signed up to this project? 

The gifts are identical, functioning both as a powerful totem and a convenient way of identifying ourselves to other members of the 0110 team, covert or otherwise.  Small enough to fit in my hand, strong enough to last forever.  And yet when I reached for mine in my handbag yesterday, so I could hold it and draw comfort from it as I write, I found that it had burst apart.  Am I cursed? 

- Helen Smith 6th November 2009