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A wet and very windy day, but six intrepid suppressives turned up in East Grinstead to rain on the official L. Ron Hubbard birthday celebrations at Saint Hill. One had problems with his colon-thetans so didn't fancy being out in the countryside for a long period and set off for a chemist's and the next pub. ARSCC (UK) directives state that at least one picketer should be wearing a fedora. Because of the high wind, Jens turned up in a woolly hat, and I had to do fedora duty.

So five of us travelled by taxi to the gates of Saint Hill, to find a row of rented white Transit vans parked opposite to the entrance. (Saint Hill is on a busy, narrow road, and normally we have to stand opposite the entrance, squashed up against the hedge) But now we could stand in the road, as traffic would have to move out to pass the vans. So we set up the boombox, and displayed the placards, to the great annoyance of the Eastern European security guard and of Scientologists driving in to celebrate the birthday. Eventually a Scientologist in a long coat emerged and told us that another van would be parked where we were standing. Obviously parking is not one of those abilities that can be sorted out by an expensive Scientology course and the van ended up at an angle, so blocking half the roadway and allowing me to deliver my anti-scientology truths safely from in its lee. Clearly the guy in the long coat was objectively aiding the suppressives. Upset by this he organised a Scientology public to park his car even further up the road, even knocking it into Tam, who was holding a placard there. Immediately afterwards the police arrived and were horrified to find that the Scientologists had blocked off half of a busy road when they had acres of parking space within Saint Hill. More senior Scientologists appeared, including Graeme Wilson, and another character who proclaimed "I'm the boss" (sorry to hear about the demotion, Graeme, but let's face it, you don't look too healthy these days, so perhaps someone younger should take over). The three of them carried on with their game about not knowing who had the keys to the vans and allowed us the best access to the gates and incoming traffic that we have ever had (Thanks to whichever mole in Saint Hill organised that for us).

After an hour taxis arrived to take us to the Ship pub opposite Scientology's new low-profile site in East Grinstead. We watched some rugby on television, had some food and a few beers, then crossed the road to picket again. The unholy trinity were there again, plus Graeme was accompanied by some blonde female who gave the police an ear-bashing for not shutting us up. When one of the picketers approached her, she asked for a leaflet, and then snatched the lot - to no avail as we had plenty more .Two separate Scientologists tried to grab placards out of our hands and had to be pursued by the police (the same guys who had been outside Saint Hill) to have the errors of their ways explained to them, with Graeme and blonde acting as ineffectual counsels for the defence. ("The boss" kept a discreet distance away)

When we returned to the pub, we were actually greeted with a round of applause from people who had been watching us through the window, which shows how unpopular Scientology has become in its last UK redoubt.

We had a few more beers and then set off home.

. John Ritson *** "After Standard Tech is out for just so long in an org, Scientology ceases to have any meaning.

Squirrel processes and repairs wind the staff up in a ball, enturbulate the field and cause a general lethargy and trouble.

Ethics then goes in hard or it all goes up in smoke." - HCOB 26 Aug 1968 - L. Ron Hubbard ***