Thursday, 19 November 2009

I rather thought only about 30 people had ever read this, certainly not her. It was far beyond any Google search list page anyone would actually get to and I thought I had set the permissions to lock most people out most of the time. It would seem after the exchange of weapons the survivors must now face the poisons fall out.

Of those I redirected to it, most seem to have then given up rather than been smothered in it. It is heavy, sticky, badly written and hard work. Then, if they got through the first page, their anger dissipated when they realised they were just kicking the fat kid who came to school in second hand clothes and was too slow to snap back. It really wasn’t sport, there really are better things to do, I mean, isn’t X factor coming on soon, is that not the kettle just boiled?

This is my life but surely for you this is just a storm in a tea cup?

I totally admit, and am pretty sure I have said, that this is just another side of the story. It’s very subjective. You will probably even see other aspects to further confuse you soon. But I hope not, I spent last night telling old friends that I still loved her regardless and they are not helping me by telling anyone what they saw. You already know I cry too much, it must be boring you by now.

Serious stuff. I am not aware I have bulled anyone. I think I was offering the man that was secretly sleeping with my girlfriend the chance to meet me in his chosen environment. Mock me properly. I am older and now no doubt considerably smaller than he is. It is probably suicide (mine) but I didn’t think he would meet me for a Gilbert and Sullivan sing off whilst playing chess. May be we could compromise on a skiing or sailing race?

If he didn’t want to meet me in his favourite gym ring then all he had to do so was say so. I rather thought he would actually want to, would probably have his mates cheering him on. I would finally have some sense knocked into me and some stubbornness knocked out. Seeing her rushing to sponge his brow and not mine would probably be the reality check I needed to stop loving her.

To me the set of rules specified means quite legal, wearing gum shields and gloves. I thought I would be teased for still, even now, being too formal and forgiving. Showing myself as the obsolete dinosaur I am. I was expecting to be laughed at not punished legally.

This was the intended as the gauntlet thrown down at his feet, not a surprise rumble in a dark car park. It’s happened to me before, I wouldn’t wish it on any one else. Yes, not even “my worst enemy”.

What I was stubbornly insisting on was that he tells me so and doesn’t just ignore me so I am never sure.

And yes I was cross. I honestly don’t think either of them have fully realised what outing us all has done. Her ability to see what she wants to see, forget what she doesn’t want to remember, is commendable and I even encouraged it, self believe is a powerful healing balm. But it’s very local. In the wider world other people, like the ones I asked to take the glass out of my eye or stitch me back up, knew that it was her and now know who she is now. Some of this is even filmed and I didn’t get it all despite all my efforts.

To recap. If I came across as threatening, I am sorry. I didn’t think I could. I am seen as a salty, spineless jellyfish washed up on the beach and drying out under the baking sun of reality. Yes I am stung but I am doing it to myself.

On that note, please spend at least five minuets thinking what my week, year and then last 8 years have been like before you condemn me. Which is not to say that if you still think im awful by the sixth minute im not. I probably am. I did get very upset on Sunday and have said a few things since that I shouldn’t have. I do make lots of mistakes. I am in a waking nightmare; which is ironic because I haven’t really slept in a year. This was not the year I planned for, I am out of my depth.


To sum up. I am sorry if appeared to threaten, I am sorry if I seemed to bully. I will, as I said before, reply to any questions and if that includes the police then so be it. I knew this was going to get a lot worse before it got better.


Sigh. Once again this is silly, out of hand, tragic to me and hilarious to everyone else looking in and pointing.
Brookes Owen, not the Belle de Jours’ Boy.

Changed and unlocked because although still desperately proud and devoted to Brooke, I never read the books and very rarely met the Belle. Only a hand full actually ever did.

From what I have been told/asked/threatened by you lot these last few years I hope you find Owen a bit nicer than the “Boy” (but yes, probably a lot “wetter” to, so its swings and roundabouts, really, ho hum). I can assure you that Brooke is dazzlingly more beautiful, cute, sweet and lovable than Belle. They’re as clever as each other but, keeping it very simple and innocent, my Brooke would also dance, sing, draw and potter round the house in woolly stripy bed socks, not stilettos. I’m glad I met her instead; I love her and miss her everyday and everynight.



For all our ups and downs, misunderstandings and mutual mistakes. The burnt bridges and the scorched black glass earth of an atomic retaliation, escalated by unnecessary hurt and tearful frustration. All because we could simply never talk about anything negative to each other. O lass, Why did you have to do this? You don’t know it yet but you have destroyed us all. But even so, in the end, as I face it coming for me, all I can do is still wish you were here to simply smile at me. it would make it all better instantly. I can not even find it in me to be cross at you.

Goodnight and goodbye little lass, sweetdreams and take care.

Wednesday, 18 November 2009

Another day of reading horrid articles and snowballing lies. This is getting out of hand. Even saying it’s all true, was it really so bad for you? I suspect most of you secretly enjoyed it all and it helped/stopped you thinking/talking about house prices and reality TV for a little while, which can surely be no bad thing. You bought into “it” and the books willingly and it was healthier/cheaper than many a vice. A “little of what you fancy” for some on the way to work and a salacious sugar coated pill that made you accidentally read some excellent writing (from a very clever person you would otherwise never have bothered with) for others. You actually had the opportunity to read her other stuff first and you didn’t. You were the ones who decided stilettos and whips were more worthy of your time than the fascinating workings of your own body, as carefully written by a stunningly clever but fully dressed Dr. And yes, it still had the wit, spark and literary quotes. It was in fact the same style but the meat on show was just colder, and you do seem to prefer it hot, don’t you? I’m afraid you really are your own worst enemies, “Sex sells” but you made it so. You gave her the money willingly; it wasn’t taxed and spirited from your pocket against your will.

The answer to today’s big question: Anyone who reads it and decides to take up prostitution because of it has much deeper issues. Her blog and books were merely the litmus paper that indicated/highlighted it, not the cause.

For example, having watched Twilight you don’t just then fall for the next moody, pale adolescent you see. He might be a ravishingly intriguing vampire who can unlock the door to an exciting world, allowing you to escape your rather mundane one. However he might also just be quiet because he has nothing to say and pale because the world he will show you hidden in his bedroom is the Online Gaming forum he inhabits everyday when he should be out in the sun kite surfing every now and again as well. He will be fat, spotty and myopic by 30, not eternally youthful with good cheek bones. There is nothing wrong with the former, but don’t be surprised and berate him for it when it happens.
“It does what it says on the tin” you just misread the label or looked at the picture instead of the ingredients.

Anyway, I rather thought this entertainment versus reality debate was already covered long ago with Pretty Woman and Julia Roberts? Or is that now too long ago and the youth of today are doomed to repeat the previous generations mistakes because they wont watch old DVDs? Do we now need a reimagining of the film with bigger explosions and yet younger, pretty actors? (Sorry Mrs Roberts)

And seeing as I am on my soap box anyway, please let me turn the sanctimonious dial all the way up to 11. Everything is relative ladies and gentleman. If society is a sinking ship, having a go at Brooke is like demanding someone polish the brass on the titanic as the icy dark waters surge over your feet. I could give you a hundred things more important to chatter about by the water cooler today. Ok….honestly off the top of my head…. As I cycled to work this morning I was passed by a car and noticed the driver, perhaps the mother, was struggling to light her cigarette as she went round corner. Beside her was a toddler about to filter out the particulates with his little pink trusting lungs. He probably won’t taste the tar though because he was elbow deep into his third packet of Monosodium Glutamate enriched maze based crisp snack and was washing it down with his Tartrazine laced fizzy pop in a teated bottle. This is everyday stuff in the real world with real people living out real lives. Like it or not, it is all about free will and free choice in a relatively free democracy. I defend it and even I can’t say it’s perfect. Sorry.

Before you have a go at Brooke, someone who has actually worked long into the night trying to improve the lives of dying children (or attempting to stop others following their fate) please look long, deep and hard at what you yourself have done today to help the world before you then become so judgemental on others. Fight the urge to become the podgy pub armchair sports pundit who “coulda been a contender”. You don’t have to be a Dr or a soldier to know of duty and service, it’s everywhere and easy. So please think if, over the course of your day today, did you save a life? And im big on team work and patience to, did you even help someone else do so, even far away and sometime next week? When was the last time you even smelled the metallic tang of blood?

Please, I know you don’t really know who I am, but you actually still don’t know who she is either. She deserves so much more, and certainly not your scorn. My life is duty, faith and service, as are the generations before me and all those around me; I can recognise it in others. I have more reason to dislike and recoil from her than any of you, for reasons you cant even yet imagine, yet I still love her. I am not actually that stupid, I am not a sadomasochist. Even though I now concede I might be “blinded by love” I was still “normal” and knew and observed her rationally before I became so. In doing so I saw a side of her that, although I seem unable to convey it, I will try to sum up again. Despite all that the world has thrown at her she is still fragile, beautiful and sweet. There is a goodness shinning out of her just trying to get past the ever thickening skin. You are forcing her to harden, making her what you want her to be whilst criticising her for being so. Please, please leave her alone.


Pause




On a more serious note, and upon reflection after being quite caught out by the last e-mail of the day. I can see both sides of the coin with this. I can most things, the shades of grey between black and white. Goodness knows there is only so far faith and optimism can take you when your eyes are showing just how unfair and illogical life can be.
So yes, for that one person in however many million that might, just possibly, now mull such a “career” over and do something before anyone can talk to you. Please don’t. I am very sorry, we were very very poor, as poor as you are now. Find your own way to rustle up a few extra pennies. There are other ways to be unconventional and prove you are not shy. Safer ways to earn money if you don’t mind getting hands dirty. I know it’s not easy, we have both had to start again career wise many times and I do sympathise. Or to compromise and be realistic, if you must, just make it your 50th option and not your first. She worked in a book shop, kitchen and the circus. Was both a cleaner and a Dr. Wore uniforms you cant even imagine (and I won’t reveal, despite my “big mouth”). Whatever you believe she did, it simply wasn’t her first choice, don’t let it be yours.

Look, what im trying to say is, don’t read the books as a manual, let alone believe them as gospel. This is all just words said by strangers. You, sitting there in your own skin with real smells, sights and sounds all around are infinity more alive and precious. Don’t let the unimportant faddish former effect the desperately important and irreplaceable latter without a jolly good long hard think about it first. Good luck.

Tuesday, 17 November 2009

And for what it’s worth my parents did also not phone me up “shocked”. On Sunday we went for a long and lonely walk up on the hills under that eye wateringly bright winter sun shine. It was lovely and as we were picking Chanterelles, something we all loved doing with her in that very same forest, her name (as ever and again) cropped up quite happily and naturally. I told them about it and, after admittedly a bit of thinking and questioning, they were happy and fine with it. My family are old fashioned, yes, but in the “lets just crack on shall we” kind of Blitz Sprit way. The “?” is left out of that intentionally, its rhetorical. It’s all “Overcome and adapt”, “no point crying over spilt milk” etc (and many more “chipper”, no doubt annoying, but sound expressions no other family has used for 50 years) philosophy of life thing.

I know, Cue chorus line of singling zebras and surging Disney anthem form Mr Elton John, it’s our own families’ cycle/circle of life type of thing. Sorry for the home-spun wisdom. We just happen to believe it.

They believe that life is complicated and as you struggle through it you make mistakes and that it’s how you then apologise and try to change that defines you as a person. I agree, of course. Being deliberately, cautiously delicate here, they had already seen both extremes of her personality many times before. They, like me, had decided that any imperfections were just specks of dust on an otherwise dazzling 7000 carat diamond. Keeping this very genteel and again, innocently humorous, that she wiped her nose on her sleeve and ate peas off her knife whilst discussing advanced astronomy etc at the dinner table was actually all rather part of her charm and endearingly human. Who wants a Vulcan for a daughter in law? We have both been called “eclectic” but that doesn’t really do it justice, it was closer to Hybrid Vigour. This was/is why she fitted into my family, we all have a dozen specialties each, all have our own mannerisms and foibles. Round the dinner table it was a case of “Let he who is without sin” cast the first freshly backed scone. But it was a lot more fun than that probably sounds.

To leave nothing out; although, like me, they have their own ideas on which bits and how much of the blog is true, they take and believe the basic premise, that she was an escort, and they still love her. If she was to turn up tomorrow and help roll pastry and sip rare blends with my father whilst wiping the flour from her fingers on her jeans as she went, no one would think it odd or remark on anything after about five mins in. She will be greatly missed this Christmas; she was again invited and was much appreciated at the last one. At the very least and most pragmatic she has a good singing voice for the carols and her expertise and appetite in the kitchen will be missed. Mother still has some treats for her in the pantry “just in case”. It seems I inherited my blinding optimism. Broaching the indelicate core of it though, my bed, let alone my heart, will be far colder without her to cuddle up to this time twelve months on.

Seven years is a lot of time anyway, but our time during that span was more intense than you could possibly imagine. It felt longer. It was my life. We could do more in one weekend than many would do in a week. If we did sit down to watch the telly it was whilst knitting, making sure the jam didn’t boil over, the fire go out, fussing the cat and talking/trying out Appellation banjo music whilst supping that afore mentioned rare blend and penning an article/thesis or Google earth mapping where we would sail tomorrow.

They know her very very well. No they didn’t know she was the Belle de Jour but they had felt/seen the near exact shape of the space that was discreetly left. That “negative space” I have tried to describe. Without being told they knew she wrote a blog and articles for the papers, had written a few books etc. It was all just slightly more science or scone based.

As it stands they still miss her, they still think she would make a cracking (but not cracked) daughter in law and they (critically) know and appreciate that I love her very much. The only comments since Sunday are to hope we are both OK and can see this through with a smile and a “ho hum” shrug of the shoulders. They are a bit concerned about her family, but that’s probably just a mother/mother family thing.

And that is it. That is all you need know of my family. Please leave it now. You can not imagine how badly it will go if you turn up at any of our work gates.





So as not to end on too dark a note:

I think all the references to me listening to her typing were because I quoted Virginia Woolf; probably a mistake. I said that all I wanted was to provide her a little “money and a room of her own”. As it happens I did help build the table, supply the software/hardware etc etc. but I didn’t tell her that. This was really her place, built for, and by, her. Brookes’ inner sanctum, her inner sub micro nest and escape pod. I did indeed glow to see her so happily ensconced there. I was so proud of her and so happy to help.

Yes, and I definitely think the horrid crushing rabbits Mail reference is an “Of Mice and Men” misquote. I mentioned Steinbeck after saying I now spent my weekends tending to “our” land and stroking/fussing her cat. Or have I really been called, or come across, as a Lennie in the books? What was with the "country mouse thing"? Yes I can catch, kill and cook my dinner off the land but so can most children now, after being reared by their TV and Ray Mears. I’v also been banned form more capital city night clubs for over moshing the mosh pit than most. So the whole Tarzan's New York Adventure thing is a bit unfair, or was it actually more like the Clampetts?

(If I told you that I have been referred to as a “the very model of a modern major general” because “I've information vegetable, animal, and mineral,” …etc, etc, that probably wouldn’t help would it? I go from duffus to expensively educated duffus? Blurs Archetypal “Charmless Man”. Actually it was mostly state school but i was let in "poor" on a busary after being measured as at the right of the bell curve. I have spark enough to help invent and design things you could see around your very home).

Ho hum.

If so, if you are brave enough to meet me and I beat you at a game of chess could you be graceful enough to ignore that I could then perhaps beat you in an arm wrestle? Is it too awkward/close to the bone to ask you “not to judge a book by its cover”? (or even prehaps to write your own text inside?) I have already hit my cliché quota, sorry, but whilst I’m at it “don’t believe everything you read in the papers” either.


Please feel free to ask those questions direct instead. Remember how I like to reward the enquiring mind? Just also please remember how I respond and like fare and friendly. Perhaps I really am that simple a beast. Cross or content, exhausted or alert. I stick to everything I say, come what may, for better or for worse.

On that note, I’m off to the weights bay now for the first time in a very long time. Wish me luck and when I get back up to fighting weight I promise to talk Quarks and The Higgs boson whilst playing that game of chess to compensate. To accentuate the cerebral and distract from my clearly distasteful bulk. Sigh.
Highly confidential. Exclusively and urgently for Mr Patrick Walsh regarding exposure of the Belle de Jour by the Daily Mail‏
From: Owen
Sent: 01 November 2009 21:34:47
To: info@convilleandwalsh.com



Dear Mr Walsh


It is very important that you read this. It concerns the absolute love of my life and someone that (although I hope you also like her personally as well) I believe with certainty you have a duty of care over professionally. She certainly spoke of you in such terms and I know she both respects and trusts you.


Because I do not know if you will be the only person to read this I will refer to her as “BM” from now on.


For the sake of this e-mail you would know her as the Belle de Jour, a blogger that stood outside your London office all those years ago as I reassured and soothed her, to then wait patiently round the corner as she signed the contracts you offered within.


Do you know who I am though? Let me elaborate, I apologise if I get emotional whilst doing so. For all my IQ, education and training I admit that I suffer from a surfeit of sentimentality. Sorry. This is not pleasant for me either but time does not allow me to be coy or aloof. My pride has cost me dear these last few years and I vowed to her last spring I would abandon it no matter how foolish or childish I then looked.


I do, however, have nothing to hide. Or rather if I did (and have done these years past), to protect her, it all seems rather pointless now. The cat is very much out of that bag and off down the road to london. I am however, despite all the horrors and heartache, still very proud to say that I was what would be referred to as her loyal and loving boyfriend for over seven years.


You can have my name, my picture. I will even come down to be interviewed if you wish.


It is of course more complicated than that, we are both passionate people and although we both loved each other very much the course of such things rarely runs true. In the end we floundered and drowned under a bitter sea of misunderstandings and their subsequent silly, pointless wake. Suffice to say that I suspect you (and indeed, as I am beginning to see, most of the world) do not know any where near the full story. Even though it has now been eight months since we shared a bed or a bath, laughed and sung as we helped each other struggle our way through the world, literally hand in hand, what is important now, what you must grasp, is that I am still completely and unconditionally in love with her and am still desperately trying to help her-come what may. Even if I didn’t do so gladly almost every day, I have little choice.


She asked me to commit to her completely many times, to start again, to leave all the hurt and horrors behind, “to stop making lists” of it all. I never had “lists” of her mistakes but I got the message and closed my diary and started again several times. She was right of course and she was simply helping me to acknowledge what was obvious to her, myself and indeed all of my workmates, family and friends. That I loved her above all else and that really was all that mattered.


Last spring, on a Northumbrian beach, as I asked if she could spend the rest of her life with me, and she said yes, I gladly, joyfully did so. I have never broken a promise in my entire life and I find that can not do so even now. I am aware that events have since rather moved on without me, how could I not, but it doesn’t matter that I still cry myself to sleep every night.


I attempt to write this in the little forested coastal house I bought for her this time last year for her last birthday, having just spent the night walking back from the special lonely beach where the rings I smelted and forged by hand last year are buried in the sand. Her little cat is currently sitting on my feet attempting to warm them and my hot tears will hopefully warm my still wind raw cheeks. But looking on the bright side, the storm will at least water the cherry trees I planted for her in her forest.


Do you know who I am yet?


In a cherished and precious moment of complete honesty and inclusiveness she once told me that yes, I was in her books, and that yes, I was referred to as “The Boy”. It took me some time to know for sure but late last year she told me that they showed the world how much she loved me and so, suitably reassured and full of faith and belief in her, I have not yet read them. My life is rapidly becoming untenable and I will allow myself the real treat of reading them soon, fortifying myself at a moment of utter despair when all else seems lost. When the stench of X, X and X fills the air, which I have now been informed will unfortunately be next year. That is important for you to know to. That is half the reason I am finally being forced to write this, why you will have to now take over. Or if I may be so forward, tighten up the slack.


So you hopefully now know my motives? Silly or mellowdramatic though they no doubt seem to you i can assure you iam infact resolute and ernest. But enough of me, what matters is that of course many many other people have read the books and also wondered who I am, and with envious eyes aimed at her, have slowly, surely, drawn their plans against me.


I am actually, when the pseudonyms, post-nominal’s and rank are stripped away, merely X Owen X X, born in X X X. Still almost 6ft and 16 stone but now very much in decline. Although I have had to change my profession and start again from scratch several times to be with her, to better support and protect her, I am currently proud to be X X X X. Though in my heart I am still the optimistic, gregarious and creative designer she met eight years ago in Sheffield.



My current location is why I have been forced to write this as an e-mail. Time is very short and I am currently unable to visit your office in person to request an interview. I also couldn’t trust the mail in its current militant state. Please do not think this an indication of indifference or incompetence on my part. Last weekend I, with only a days notice, drove the length of the country through floods to defend her, and the weekend before that. Indeed this has been happening at such a rate, increasing over the last year, that I now do something like this roughly every other weekend. Money has never been an issue regards her, I would, have and do put her happiness and safety above my own life and future, certainly above my remaining funds, but what’s less easy to ignore is I also have duties and obligations to my work which, x x x x.


In short, I apologise for the e-mail, I hope it will be read by you and you alone. You are then very welcome to contact me to flesh the details if you wish.




Ok, the meat of it, though still the abridged version. Last week (20th Oct) I was phoned out of the blue by a Miss Laura Topham, who transpired to be a reporter for The Daily Mail. If I include the man from the “lad’s mag”, she is the fifth journalist to contact me over the last two years. In case you are curious that makes her roughly the seventeenth person to contact me about BM in that time. I can not be sure because after the first Trojan I found I deleted many e-mails without opening them, fleeing from facebook also. Only their title, as seen sitting inert and safe in my inbox, indicated others were about her. More importantly I have also met, discussed, debated, begged and (on one horrific occasion) battled people up and down the country in an effort to protect her. I have also driven out to proactively track down those who were about to; those I had been tipped off were trying to, "out" her. I stopped doing this this spring after BM told me not to. I responded in good grace that I would gladly allow you, her paid professional, to take over, to lay my now much tarnished and dented armour aside. Resigned, beaten and obsolete. But it doesn’t seem to have worked, does it?


As I have let go I am sorry to say that you do not seem to have taken up quite all of the slack.


Becoming merely reactive has made my life much harder since, but I have always done everything, literally everything, she has ever asked/told me to do and I in turn have done everything, really everything, I have every told her I would do. It’s all part of me never breaking a promise.


The bulk of these depressing events would take too long to go into here so I will focus on the most recent. Miss Topham is also the most important and alarming to date. First, she knew my mobile number. In fact, bugger that, she knew absolutely everything about me. My title, work, X X X X. Many hundreds of people have known how much I love BM, everyone at my current, and indeed last three, work places, multiple professions and places the length and breadth of the country. Many knew I had bought her a house, knew about the rings. But Ms Topham knew more, much much more. I have been sold out, I felt violated. But it, of course, got worse.


I am not a violent person in anyway, am too stuborn to threaten or except blackmail and all my money has been spent on her. This has left me with a limited bargaining position. So as well as offering myself (my time, talents or even just the strength of my back) in such situations I have also subsequently let myself be trained as, among other things, a x. She phoned two Tuesdays ago and told me that the story was going to run that Saturday (24th Oct), so finalised to be printed on Friday. She knew everything about BM, everything. She had photos of her leaving her work, knew her families names and addresses, exotic real origin etc etc. And she asked, as I had repeatedly been linked to her as “The Boy”, did I have anything to say before the article was went to print in the two days i had left?


So I did what I always do. I begged her to let me come down to speak to her before she did so. I am a “can-do” optimist but am not naive. In the past this has been a trap, and I now travel to such things, despite the time, effort and expense, in an unmarked white hire van with sleeping bag and first aid kit hidden in the windowless back. I park along way off and approach in neat clean clothes; those and running shoes.


We met and I spent the night arguing everything from how BM deserves her anonymity (not an easy sell to a journalist) to the morality of prostitution. Which, Mr Walsh, I was forced to defend for fear of giving her quite the scoop. Mr Walsh, I love BM despite her being the Belle, not because of it. I loved her poor, skinny, scarred and under appreciated. For just who she was inside, her smile and her sparkle. This morning I went to church in a X granite X circled overhead by ospreys. My Minister makes Dr Ian Paisley look like a Guardian reading hippy. My most loving memories of BM involve picking flowers or fruit for jam and the smell of her sun warmed hair, watching the milky way from the top of hay bails in the middle of a quite, dark field of stubble. Or again being cuddled up to her on the sofa as she wore stripy knee length bed socks and hugged a thread bare but much loved soft toy from her child hood. Yes I have a high libido; yes I loved making love to her, but that’s not why I love her.


Although I always did my best to support her, to defend her against the lashings from the critics, to celebrate her success with a bottle of something bubbly, I never actually agreed to be a part of these books. I always wished that BM could re-launch her medical career or write about some of the other things she spoke about. Where as I love to talk about BM, am so proud to extol her virtues to any and all, have done so everywhere from Westminster to West Point only this year alone, I never thought I would find myself defending prostitution to a representative of the Daily Mail at two in the morning after a ten hour drive through floods and after not sleeping for three days. Well, i had to do those two days of lost work before going somehow.


And this is when I fear I will sound petulant rather than earnest and exhausted. Sorry Mr Walsh, and I am aware you probably dislike me already, but Is this not instead part of your remit?


In the end we only ground each other down to a stand still. In the end I realised she knew absolutely everything about both of us. In the end I was forced to use my profession, the profession I only took on, for better or for worse, because of BM. A profession I have then adapted to better suit and protect her although I find it far from what I wanted to do in my life. I used my Post X X knowledge. My time spent lobbying at County Courts as a X X or as an X or X or X etc etc. when all other avenues had been exhausted I laid it out. I said that if she went ahead with this, if she outed BM as utterly and completely as she was going to, complete down to family home and work address, she would do irreparable harm to BM. I will not quote various legal statutes at you but to sum up tomorrow I will forwrd an e-mail covering that I was forced to repeat the Friday just gone as it appeared it was all about to be published again the second weekend in a row.


For what its worth, and this isn’t just Stockholm syndrome, I think Miss Topham genuinely does now want to pursue the “ethical” approach. She has worked long and hard gathering all this but, with some encouragement form me, will (if offered something else in exchange) not “out” the real BM. I admit I can not be completely sure of this and I believe she is in turn being directed by various editors much further up the food chain who were only scared off by me quoting legalities at them. They are the ones to convince.


Please Mr Walsh. Please contact Miss Topham and encourage her do the honorable thing. Let her interview BM or yourself. We need to defuse this and fast, probably by next weekend. For them it will be third time lucky, I don’t think I can stop them a third weekend in a row. But you are the expert in this field, this is your profession and I am merely a reluctant tourist in a foreign land. Do you have other ideas? Have you in fact dealt with her or her type many times before?



Note regarding tomorrows e-mail: This was a last ditch effort. That is why I sent it X X, which I really shouldn’t have done, but Miss Topham was right at BMs work door, actually in the building and I had to try and stop her in with only minutes to spare. I would infact hate to give anyone any of my precious pictures of us together. These are very almost all I have left to give the vast bulk of my adult life any meaning. No. I would hate to have something innocently and sweetly taken then given to the press to tarnish and desecrate but I don’t think I have much choice. It would be the only way to ensure that they portrayed BM in a positive light. Sweetness and smiles not, well, you must ask her what pictures Miss Topham already has. Ask her. I think some are from around Bristol, leaving her work, drinking with various people in pubs and clubs etc. but there is also the very real fear that she has been given others. She alluded to knpwing of “X” of a horrifically intimate and deeply embarrassing nature that I was only made aware of myself over Christmas. I did my very best to track them down through red raw eyes, delete or subdue them up until May even though it cost me any chance of ever talking to the love of my life ever again. But that is another conversation and one I would really rather avoid. I find it deeply upsetting and BM will just hate me yet further for it. Guilt by association even though I have tried to help her find and hide the hideous things.


The vast majority of the things I have tried to do to prove my love for her just backfired and drove her away. My presents seen as poison. Its my own fault, my own ineptitude. Again and again I stubbornly tried to be practical and fix things like the ex engineer I am, but instead I now realise I should have just have given her more of the standard Tescos flowers, chocolates and an off-the-shelf glib pleasantry about her hair. It would be a comedy of errors if I could only just stop being devastated about it all. This very letter will, rather than being seen as something to help her, a bespoke if somewhat utilitarian birthday present, just probably enrage and horrify her.




The final thing is of course the source of this leak. There is no point just curing the symptoms. The gaps in Miss Tophams’ extensive knowledge might actually give it away. She knew my name and X X but not X. My name and location are unusual and misleading in that regards. This and other things leads me to believe that the person (and I believe it be persons) who are selling us out have seen me at close range but never heard me speak. Once again, this is another conversation and one I am too terrified to have. The first time I told BM how she had given herself away, to a quite different enemy last summer, with exact details and even the names and paper I had intercepted it going to, it became part of the horror that eventually tore us apart. Both of us were very upset and it was my fault. The second time I tried to tell her about someone who was gathering information about her, again, both her identities, she stopped talking to me completely. I always knew this is how she would react, I was not surprised, its why I have always kept it quite.


I have paid a terrible price for all this and even if i deserve some of it I can not now be the one who tells her. I offered that in a one off amnesty in May, all my gathered e-mails and reports providing she didn’t just shoot the messenger. Even examples of the x though they made me gag and writhe just to be near the disk. It was a terrible time for me, she had only just admitted him to me after telling me he didnt exist all winter and I was crashing around wracked with insomnia and the loss of her. I lost all finesse and pushed my X X X too far. X X X X X.


So I have paid the ultimate price to find out who these people are and I don’t want to waste that, but this has to be for you to investigate and establish. I cannot lead you to them or she will see it as flawed and fake. It cannot come from me. Trust me, I know her better than anyone else on earth, she will both ignore it and merely hate me for it all over again.


Mr Walsh, there is a lot here and a lot more if you wanted it but I can see that this is now too long and I admit I am “tired and emotional”. If you have got this far thank you for your patience and professionalism. In so many ways you are now the better man to run with this. Loving her compltly whilst in turn being uterly hated by her makes me the worst possible man in the world to do this. I cannot win, i will always be, and cause, upset.




To sum up. Please can you deal with the Daily Mail, although I would regard them the natural predator of the Belle de Jour I believe Miss laura Topham to be the friendliest of all those who have come knocking at (or kicking down) my door so far. I think she can be made to leave the real BM alone, encouraged to do the decent thing if met half way. Considering she was outside BMs actual office last week I rather think this snatching victory from the jaws of exposed defeat. And I am sure a man of your talents could even turn this to your advantage? Miss Topham gets some sort of story (she has clearly spent weeks on the research, it’s a Karma thing. Fairness is the very heart of my beliefs and how I operate and think. Sorry to be so Old Testament about it. Tit for tat is not very modern or attractive) and BM gets some controlled publicity.


Please may I also ask you to acknowledge that you received this e-mail? I have no idea at the filters you have set on both your browser or even just your outer office. I can well imagine that you also get unsuitable emails regarding BM on a weekly basis and you to might have adapted to simply delete them as well.


I do not need you to say you agree, believe or intend to do anything with this but I do need to know you at least know it, that you got this. To this end I am afraid I will have to keep sending this by letter, courier, blog etc etc until I know it got through and i dont want everyone in your office reading this. Also, quite frankly I am not sure we have the time. They will have the story ready to print by Friday if it is not infact already done so.


Although a very odd and awkward way to finally meet Mr Walsh, I have great faith in your abilities. Thank you, in hope, for your help and consideration in this matter.


Yours sincerely,



Owen
09 November 2009 01:40:11
To:

Dear Mr Walsh.

Still no word from you or anyone authorised to stand in your stead.

This is obviously not the time for reproach but I am obviously disappointed. I am afraid that, even allowing for the bad timing, I was hoping for rather more. But we both hopefully want the same thing, her happiness, and if you can help me achieve that I will forgive any and all things. I have done so in the past any and every time.

In an effort to help you hit the ground running upon your return I have forwarded you some of my recent correspondence with the Daily Mail. That and the referred attachment I sent along with it. You don’t have to read it, infact I would rather you didn’t, but its important you at least have the option to. Not only will I not lie but I will try to no longer allow misunderstandings to spring up like weeds amongst the cracks in between. Or worse, those shades of grey that creep in around the edges of a solid “yes” or “no” truth.

It seems I managed to stall them for at least another weekend, which critically included her birthday week, so whatever it cost me I deem it to be worth it.

It has been another week of me being both horrified and impressed with the Mails sources. I am beginning to suspect that aspects of this current incursion started long ago and I mistook them for others, perhaps some of the non specified e-mails or facebook prompts last year or even beyond. Or rather I have run across some of their sources, in person, before. Before they got frustrated and then went to the Mail. In which case my failure is compounded.

Anyway, in your absence it went down to the wire but I have a victory of sorts. Not as complete as other times with other papers, this will still (critically) probably come out, and no matter how de-fanged (i hope) she will know of this and probably hate me for it in time for my own birthday.

However, considering these people were outside her home and even inside her work three weeks in a row I think this is, in all honesty, not such a bad result. Or so I hope, this is obviously subjective and I admit that despite all my openness and capitulation I still don’t know the whole story here. But in case you can piece it together, have the necessary skill and contacts, here are the facts from my end.

In their last e-mail (in reply to what is forwarded below this) they said, regarding what’s to come sometime in the next fortnight:

“identifying you would be identifying her you see as so many people know you were together and she would soon be fully exposed elsewhere because other papers would not restrain themselves. … you would probably lose your job if that happened and given the fact that your family has been in the Forces for generations I imagine that is something you don't want to do, so I have kept your name out of the piece.”

This rather caught me out. As I said before, my family love her and are as proud of her as I am but to have her kept safe purely because otherwise it would have offend my families’ service history is a bit odd and rather lovely really.
Maybe the Daily Mail really isn’t that bad? Maybe I really do have Stockholm Syndrome?
It’s not what I was aiming for but, as someone often described as an Edwardian relic, I can at least and at last fully agree with something the Mail has done regards this. If my being mobilised out after my brothers next year serves to help her again, and for a more noble reason, then it will stiffen my resolve that little bit more whilst doing so.

So I have won the battle regards the Mail, but not the war. There will be other, less understanding "family focused", papers. New e-mails and surprise weekend “withheld” phone calls to make the blood freeze as I find I quite place to tensely answer.

This one paper has taken all my time, effort, leave and money for a whole month. Reduced me to tears and wasted the flesh from my bones as I once again struggle to eat or sleep. Let alone continue to do the real damage deep inside, to dim my once blazing optimism and sense of fair play.

(Some of the things they have said to provoke me into saying nasty things about her are beyond upsetting Mr Walsh. Would have enraged me if I was that sort of chap or didn’t love her completely ((both things it seems they weren’t expecting)), but they have still eviscerated me regardless. Mr Walsh, its too late to be of any good now, I never said it to her face when it might, and any attached anger and desire to was washed away when I committed to her last year ((that’s the beauty and test of compete and unconditional love I suppose)) but I have never been unfaithful to anyone in my life. Let alone her, the only woman I ever wanted to marry and was trying to for all those years. Keeping this very very short, the hideous mistakes i did make were after, among other things, catching her with someone else and then being utterly dumped and cast out because of it. Four times, of which I almost then gave up on her three. The one time I didn't, this last time, which was after I had forgiven and committed completely last spring, it was too late and I will now be single and celibate forever more.

People said of me when they saw the rings, house and invitations to a years worth of parties and balls last year, “better late than never”, but now they are not so sure.
But I admit it’s more complex than that of course (those insidious, subjective shades of grey again) or rather it was, it’s now instead merely much more simple. It simply doesn’t matter.

The reason I say this is to you now is because it’s the kind of thing they “ask” and will not let lie, hour after hour of asking me when I am trying to tell them something nice about her. And I will not lie; I promised her last autumn that I would be as I was when she first met me, before the horrors, from here on in. No, but nor will i aggravate the situation neither. At the moment i face down that question in stolid silence. They tend stop asking when the first hot tears start rolling down my cheeks, it’s an honest and obvious response I suppose, but at my age it’s not much of reply, and it completely lacks as a defence, they dont give up for long)

And like those others, it is not over yet. They never truly go away and I can’t believe that they won’t try to collect on some of the other things I promised them.

Please Mr Walsh do you have any ideas? I am sorry to Quid pro quo but ether I talk to you impassioned and desperate (which has thus far returned few results) or I talk to you as the professional you would probably prefer to be approached as. Mr Walsh, i am sorry to lower the tone and raise the subject, but i am desperate now and it is increasingly clear to me that you have profited on my misery these last few years. Please, can I now ask for your help with this in return?

I have left this long enough to ensure her happiness, i made terrible mistakes, paid a terrible price and then in turn have gone on to try and atone for it all the only way i know how. I have given up everything to allow her the time to take root and flourish in her new life, make new friends at her new work and yes, even love someone who might not perhaps be as new as I would have liked, and then pushed on a few more months further still just in case. But it has cost me everything I know and now I have run out of time. Who will stand sentinel and sacrificial anode in my absence if not you?

Please Mr Walsh, i deserve my decaying life. Sitting alone on the beach or in "our" little house like Lady Haversham, surrounded with our invites and her treats. I am not asking you keep these mice and carrion crows off me, no, its my family. Much as i am grateful for the Daily Mails deference to them, they were never part of my original deal, i have never mentioned them to anyone before this and don't know why the press is so always keen involve them. Can you help? They are as i was before it all went wrong and i lost my way, blinded by my own stupid tears. Like me they still love her and are proud of her, still talk of and respect her, but they are also still innocent as well as ernest. They deserve better.

________________________________________
From: owen
Subject: FW:
Date: Sun, 8 Nov 2009 19:24:44 +0000

________________________________________





From: owen
To: laurartopham@hotmail.com; lauratopham@googlemail.com
Subject: FW:
Date: Fri, 6 Nov 2009 10:37:27 +0000

Good morning Laura.

In short. Hopefully I have been open and honest enough for you to know how I feel about this. That although I will give you what you require (as agreed) you will also know for sure that I am also still desperately loyal to her and stubborn as a personality type. Sorry, although she relied on the former the latter bothered her as well.

To sum up, I will happily tell you it all in exchange for her but I am not "selling" myself too cheaply.

Please Laura. Before anything goes forward can you please contact me via phone or e-mail to say what your plans are? Or even when it is going out? What you won’t reveal of her in exchange for something you will off/of me. I am aware that me hovering around looking hurt and frustrated like a kicked puppy is probably not helping but the stakes are so high and I am now so tired. Please believe me that I keep all my promises (as i have shown you so far) so, in exchange for you making the piece as positive towards her as possible, yes, I will ignore the others.

In return I do trust you, but I admit I am not so sure about your editors. I was really rather taken aback when you went to her work and even home. Whoever made you do that will think very little of upsetting us both again.

You then said that this didn't now have to mention her employers specifically, that this could instead be personality led (and/so there is more than enough here to write a Physiology thesis!)

If you are mentioning my work however, which I really really hope you don't, I will have to notify some people here officially to warn them about the imminent bad PR, its standard policy. And then goodness knows what happens next regards me, "light blue touch paper and retire to a safe distance....".

Regards another phone interview this morning, I am afraid I was really busy at work today, I am most days, and I really shouldn't be taking time out of it to talk to you. Sorry. I have to compensate by working late into the nights. But that's one of the reasons I have managed to take next week off. So we can talk at leisure (and without fear of me getting too upset in front of people I cant).

But to show how keen I am to help/allow you do the "right thing", and as an act of faith, I am instead giving you some diary entries I tweaked to make comprehensible late last night. They are only the gentle stuff. More the feelings than the facts. But my feelings are easily strong enough to steer me to make those said facts so. It is feelings not facts that broke us up and have left me where I am, alone and broken but still stolid and loyal. When you interviewed me that stormy night you kept asking me why I did or didn't do such a thing, so I think it will be useful to you to. At the time I just burst into tears and couldn't explain myself (sorry).

There are only so many ways you can say "because I love her".



(Note: Additional upon return)

The pages cover some of the times you asked about, some of the times you seem to have found the evidence of me trying to help her secretly in the background. You are not quite the first, sorry, but most of it she never knew about, it was a secret after all, (sadly she only instead saw how busy and frazzled I became whilst doing it) so I admire your investigative skills in finding it. Without detracting from the effort, I have made it my business to know how other people have done so in the past. Is it just dependent on what you want to see? What you expect to find and are used to looking for? "Seek and you shall find", or the next logical step beyond Schrodinger's cat? Its just because you read the blog and books afterwards? Well done, honestly, but part of my price (I am afraid) is that she must still never know. If I can live with it, I know you can.

Most of it was meant to be hidden forever and must remain so. I will also not talk of the details of what you already know from these other sources. Most of them I regard as enemies of her and I will not give them the satisfaction of my confession/confirmation even if the story they sold you was me doing something positive to help her. I would only look vain or foolish. More pathetic than pathos.

These entries will just cover why I did a few of these things you found and why I thought she was worth it.

For what it was worth, I still think she was worth it but the price was as high as anything I could ever have imagined. Not my life, that is worthless now, a devalued currency, (and as she once told me, no one lives for ever anyway) but that it was all wrapped up in her hating me forever and I will face such dangers alone and knowing so (because she was wrong when she said everyone dies alone). But the one thing that I am sure of is that if it afforded her a summer of peace and happiness, allowed her to find herself and forgive him, then it was worth it.

It was not how I would have chosen it I admit, another man reaping the fruits of my efforts, but when I came to my moment of "transcendence" last year (with her help), rose above what I pettily perceived as “unfair” (even that last little stubborn pathetic niggly bit that flared up like a cancer after every new upset) and I realised that it really was all about loving her, which in turn really was all about making her happy, then I still have my main aim. She is happy now.

I cant explain it, I know its sounds stupid, i hope the attached may attempt to.

Once I know your intentions for sure, that she is safe, I will happily give you plenty more to make it worth it. It's no boast, it is infact quite sad and i am far from proud of it. Aspects of my fall and hounding, the losing of myself and soul, that you haven't even waited for the full answer. That and what I intend to do next.


Owen






RE: Highly confidential. Exclusively and urgently for Mr Patrick Walsh regarding exposure of the Belle de Jour by the Daily Mail‏‏
From: Owen
Sent: 04 November 2009 20:44:24
To: jake@convilleandwalsh.com; patrick@convilleandwalsh.com
1 attachment
image001.png (7.7 KB)



Dear Mr Smith-Bosanquet



I am sorry to contravene your previous advice but I am afraid I have not yet heard from Mr Walsh.



I appreciate that the timing is highly unfortunate, it is indeed so for all concerned, but may I enquire what manner of holiday he might have embarked on?



If he is sailing the med or hiking the Andes, for example, and unable to access or correspond via the web please may I implore you to go to “Plan B”? That second in command with the authority to bargain/reason with them or simply/merely to whisk her to that pre prepared bolt hole to hide out the encroaching media fire storm. This is not a time for top trumps but I know I always had one prepared for her at all times and I was just the keen amateur at this, you are the professionals.



I appreciate that it is possible that a multitude of things are going on behind the scenes out of my sight, but from my current vantage point it doesn’t look good. I have been informed that this story is still coming out. Although at least not now in its rawest most unrefined tabloid form, and just maybe I have gained yet another weekends grace, this is still going to be highly upsetting for her.



I have given up my life for the protection of her, the love of my live, even to the point of being hated by her, and I can not sit idly by as the sands run out on her. My actions are becoming increasing desperate, my options running out. I have been stalling them for weeks, trying desperately to keep her birthday clean, but it’s rather a Faustian pact and they will want me to pay up soon. They always do.



Of all the years, all our ups and hideous downs, even with me streaked in my own blood and tears, the only thing that has ever angered me these last eight years (and arguably my life) is seeing her put in danger.



I am aware that I am coming over as such right now, and I am very sorry. I’m afraid I am indeed frustrated. I don’t believe it took a Machiavellian tactician to realise that they would ensnare me eventually, or that they would try to out her roughly now. In brief sir, where are your contingency plans?



Please, is anything going on at your end? Is this even being taken seriously? I will gladly offer myself to them to save her but I can’t pretend that it would be my preferred option. It will really upset my family. They loved her as a daughter in law, they still do. There is still not a day goes by without her name cropping up naturally and happily in conversation. She will be heartbroken to see her hounded so. All in all not a great Christmas line up for anyone really.
RE: Highly confidential. Exclusively and urgently for Mr Patrick Walsh regarding exposure of the Belle de Jour by the Daily Mail‏‏

Sent: 13 November 2009 22:24:03
To: jake@convilleandwalsh.com; patrick@convilleandwalsh.com; info@convilleandwalsh.com

1 attachment



To whom it may concern and further to last.

I sit here late Friday eve, like many before, not actually knowing if I might wake to find her, my family or myself (in descending order of importance) exposed and exploited in a national paper tomorrow morning. Who will find the story first, myself, her or one of my blissfully ignorant and innocent family?

I know, like every time before, that I really have done everything legally possible to prevent it, but like every other time before, it all ultimately boils down to my faith, their compassion and various “gentleman’s agreements”. Despite all the time, money and effort I have again sunk into this I have very little written down to show for it. I am an optimist by nature but the engineer and officer in me also finds this cavalier.

I work in a security conscious environment were my appearance is regularly summarised and recorded. Up until last year I was regularly reported as appearing roughly 8 years younger than I actually am, now I am reported as considerably over. This is not vanity, I am instead merely aware that this is symptomatic of the deeper effects and damage of long term stress, the failing of my once rude health. I manifest other more vulgar symptoms but I won’t go into them here, suffice to say that I am not enjoying this and was hoping for slightly more off your organisation.

I appreciate that me contacting you was probably unexpected, unwanted and unfortunately timed but (from my perspective) I really honestly don’t think it took a Machiavellian tactician or the Wisdom of Solomon to know it would happen one day or even roughly now.

Regardless, you have now had enough time to research and confirm my identity. Contact the Daily Mail and establish their searching out and subsequent identification and interviewing of me.

I appreciate that you answered my initial e-mail promptly, thank you, but I really do now need to know you are doing something with this. That it wasn’t all just filed/dumped in the “too much hassle” folder. All I have asked for since is when I might expect Mr Walsh to read and reply to this. If that reply is simply “don’t dare darken our door again” then so be it, I will continue to soldier on as best I can regardless for what little time I have left.

All I actually asked was that he warns/helps her and/or gives the Mail something above and beyond what I have to mollify them and reward them for holding off with the real stuff.

I believe inaction is in itself an action, taken consciously and with understanding of the consequences.

Please, I try to do unto others as I would have done unto myself. To this end, to you, I have been open and honest, friendly and fair (considering that you have profited off my misery without my consent, perhaps to the point of ingratiating subservience).

I do not know what tomorrow will bring, whether the story will break this weekend or next, but I do need to hear from at least a representative of your company well before next Friday either way.

I am an optimist, not naive. Forgiving not weak. Sympathetic, not stupid; but yes, these are easy mistakes to make and are often made.

So let me sum up in terms you might appreciate and understand. Your silence and apparent inaction is putting two of the most important things in my life at risk. I am desperate and exhausted and my next step will, regrettably, be litigation.

Yours sincerely

Owen




RE: Highly confidential. Exclusively and urgently for Mr Patrick Walsh regarding exposure of the Belle de Jour by the Daily Mail‏‏
From: Owen

Sent: 09 November 2009 09:43:09
To: jake@convilleandwalsh.com

Good morning Mr Smith-Bosanquet.

It would seem that, utilising an unusual source of luck (and even then only just) the Daily Mail might keep off her for another week. Seeing as that week, last week, included her birthday I deem that whatever I paid to be a cost worth paying.

The current crisis has passed and there should now be more time, at least a few more days, for Mr Walsh to now step in and take over. Not to worry, I think the story is now considerably curtailed and what is left will be much easer to deal with and manage. Mr Walsh might even enjoy having such a paper somewhere safely in plain sight and keen to do the right thing in such a formal fashion. I will certainly leave it for him to garner any praise.

So without trying to sound reproachful, in fact instead apologetic for sounding frustrated and frantic the last time, please may I enquire when he actually gets back from his current holiday?

Yours sincerely

Owen


________________________________________
Subject: RE: Highly confidential. Exclusively and urgently for Mr Patrick Walsh regarding exposure of the Belle de Jour by the Daily Mail‏
Date: Tue, 3 Nov 2009 10:03:44 +0000
From: Jake@convilleandwalsh.com

Dear Owen,

Thank you for your emails. We have forwarded them on to Patrick, who will deal with them in due course as soon as he can.

Please may I ask that from now onwards all correspondence goes directly to him: Patrick@convilleandwalsh.com

Thank you very much.

Kind regards,


Jake Smith-Bosanquet


2 Ganton Street, London W1F 7QL, United Kingdom
T: +44 (0) 20 7287 3030 F: +44 (0) 20 7287 4545


From: Info
Sent: 03 November 2009 09:55
To: Jake Smith-Bosanquet
Subject: FW: Highly confidential. Exclusively and urgently for Mr Patrick Walsh regarding exposure of the Belle de Jour by the Daily Mail‏





________________________________________
From: Owen
Sent: 02 November 2009 17:25
To: Info
Subject: RE: Highly confidential. Exclusively and urgently for Mr Patrick Walsh regarding exposure of the Belle de Jour by the Daily Mail‏

A sincere and heartfelt thank you for your quick reply. I hope you also got the afore mentioned forwarded e-mail to the Daily Mail I sent this morning?

The timing is however, of course, rather awkward.

I trust, as consummate professionals, there is a contingency plan ready to be pulled from the shelf and implemented? That you have “Actions on” regarding such a situation now the Sword of Damocles’ thread has finally snapped?

Or at least Mr Walsh has a trusted Lieutenant ready to step forward to fill the breach in his absence?

There are no lies here, and although admittedly uncertain, I have been led to believe that this story is ready to run, to break this weekend. But I have stopped it the last two so nothing is certain and I will not give up.

OK, in the absence of any kind of unifying scheme I will continue to operate independently.

My plan is to continue to delay and steer them as much as manners, honesty and current location allow. I will continue to offer them myself in return for her anonymity and trust in their conscience. Failing that continue to quote statute and insist they interview her as the Belle formally (and hopefully online) rather than traumatise her by knocking on her actual home or workplace door.

I wish you luck at your end.


________________________________________
Subject: RE: Highly confidential. Exclusively and urgently for Mr Patrick Walsh regarding exposure of the Belle de Jour by the Daily Mail‏
Date: Mon, 2 Nov 2009 14:52:28 +0000
From: Info@convilleandwalsh.com

Dear Owen,

Patrick is on holiday this week and will be in touch upon his return.

Thanks

Conville and Walsh Ltd.

________________________




________________
From: Owen
Sent: 02 November 2009 11:38
To: Info
Subject: Highly confidential. Exclusively and urgently for Mr Patrick Walsh regarding exposure of the Belle de Jour by the Daily Mail‏


Good morning Mr walsh.

Last night i sent you an e-mail informing you of the imminent exposure of the Belle de jour by the Daily Mail. i informed you that you would regard me as "The Boy" and some on the things i have been doing to try and protect the real girl behind the blog. The real lass i still happen to still love very much and am still completely committed to.

This is the aforementioned e-mail i sent to the reporter last friday as she was sitting in a cafe having just been in BMs actual work and possibly about to go to her very home.

Although i think Miss Topham can be reasoned with regards ethics and had indeed been reasuingly friendly, understanding and “human” i believe it is her editors that are pushing for the full exposure. Only by repeating the warning i had laid out the weekend before, to be relayed up her chain of command, do i feel i got her to return to london.

Please Mr Walsh. Please tell me that you are getting these and that you intend to do something to save her.

____________________________


____________
Date: Mon, 2 Nov 2009 09:19:54 +0000

______________________________________________

To whom it may concern

Further to a phone conversation with Laura Topham just (at 11.00hrs, 30 Oct 09) I was told the following would help her.

I, X Owen X X, here by swear that I was what would be termed the boyfriend of the woman you know as the Belle de Jour Blogger.

I will stand up in court and swear this under oath, I will allow people to meet me and interview me. Whatever test you care to conduct, from reading our letters, my diaries or looking through seven plus years of photos of us living our lives together. I can produce many members of my family or multiple friends to back me up.

In short, I still love this woman completely and unconditionally. She is still the most important thing in my life and I will do anything to protect her. When Miss Topham first contacted me out of the blue last week I offered to offer her myself in exchange for exposing the person you would call the Belle. This still stands.

Her "real" job is far more important and beneficial to the common good than you can imagine and exposing her will destroy it all.

As a person she is also far more fragile and worthy than you might imagine and does not deserve the media firestorm that will descend on her. She has never courted the photographers and I believe is allowed her anonymity. This will hurt and upset her more than you can possibly imagine, professionally, mentally and even physically.

Yes, let me be very clear on this, you will do her long term physical damage.

In short, exposing her will destroy her and is morally wrong. Please take me instead