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What a coincidence. On an impulse I checked Google images to see what there was on my late husband. Sure enough, there was a photo of him standing among some work colleagues.

I also found a photo of myself there, working on the code desk at Royal Mail. Fair enough. I have the same name. But the photo was taken from one of my blogs about how gang stalking is the white collar crime equivalent of pickpocketing – and the first words of the article reference pick pocketing.

But I was completely amazed to see the photograph of my sister also there – the one where she is wearing “Ethiopian” dress which a person ignorant of Ethiopian fashions might think was gypsy apparel. I can assure any curious readers that my sister was not married to my husband, and therefore does not have the same name as him, being married to someone else. The article the photo was extracted from had nothing to do with my husband. And in it I also commented that my sister and I look remarkably alike – we could almost be twins.



Here is a photo of me, on the right, and my sister in the corner, taken on the occasion of our Dad’s 90th birthday, in 1999.

So, I wonder how Google images put a picture of my sister on a site under a wrong name?

As I have mentioned on several previous blogs, I believe that the lie has been spread about me that I am a gypsy, based on a pointed comment made to me while shopping in a local supermarket, and being surrounded by people dressed like gypsies when I go into Harrogate, one of the most upmarket towns in North Yorkshire. To counter that social framing, I now have a crew cut and wear Union Jack t-shirts. This was then followed by a comment on my WordPress stats page about why do gypsies carry Union Jacks.


The photo also shows my Mum and Dad. Everybody in Ballymena knows my late mother as she was the Head Librarian in Ballymena before she retired. Her English antecedents were called Morphett, upper crust English people from Surrey.

My Dad was a Radio Officer in the Merchant Navy for half his life and worked for Marconi Marine land service for the other half. And he is not a gypsy either.

My sister, married to someone other than my late husband, despite dressing up in “Ethiopian” dress – God knows why – I have yet to hear any kind of explanation, or any clue who the other people in the photo are – was an Irish champion swimmer, and the mother of a swimmer who swam in the Atlanta Olympics. That daughter is a trained Solicitor, and now an American citizen. And she is also not a gypsy.

Oh, and my great-great-great-great(and so on) grand-father was a chap called William Orr who was hanged at Carrickfergus Castle in 1797 for “administering an oath” which means he was a member of a secret society, a forerunner of the IRA. He was a Protestant landowner, something our modern sectarian IRA likes to forget – and he wasn’t a gypsy either.

Now there’s nothing wrong with gypsies – so we’re told – so the reference to pick-pocketing is just a meaningless coincidence. The point is, I am not one. Nor has anyone in my family ever been one. Though one of my late husbands uncles ran away to join the circus when he was a boy.



Not a gypsy. A typing postman.


Google images update

I had another look at Google images this morning. I thought I might add the photo of myself in my blog on the site where I comment that gang stalking is the white-collar equivalent of pick-pocketing, and pick-pocketing occurs in the first line of the article under my photo. The photo of my husband was still there, but both the photos of myself and sister had gone.

But a picture of Princess Di had appeared. So far as I know, she is not a relative.