A few days ago, I was amused by a mixture of kids playing at Fisherrow in the harbour when the tide was out.

The only photograph I took of them I kept was of two pairs of feet covered in mud. Whilst the others might’ve looked as if I were taking their photographs, I was shooting the sand and the tracts that the water took.

I am an internationally-known landscape photographer – I imagine anyone involved/associated with me would drop me like a rock had I had a ‘hidden agenda’ with kids.

Last Tuesday, as I was feeling really strange and had called 999, the ambulance crew eventually got into my home (I have a ‘soft as butter’ Border collie, although he does bark, like dogs are meant to).

Eventually, despite my having no co-ordination, I got Brodie into a room I wasn’t in and they secured me to something for the ambulance journey (I was awake all the time) and it was ‘blue light’ to the ERI with a suspected stroke.

In the stroke unit, since I gave the ‘owners of the feet’ my card, a day later someone claiming to be a member of a local paedophile hunter crew telephoned me in A&E at the Royal Infirmary.

He told me that they intended to rape my wife, blow up my car and shoot my dog – oh, and they wanted £20,000 to prevent them from telling ‘everyone’ on social media of their interpretation of my innocent (or naive) behaviour.

Naturally, I contacted the police but the number to my mobile was withheld – they took a statement from me as I laid in the stroke unit, paying particular attention to me having Asperger’s syndrome, which doesn’t let me ‘see the bigger picture’.

I cannot tell lies – it is something you are born with. My diagnosis was when I was 57.

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