Home in the Swiss Alps, designed by JM Architects, is covered in smooth dark grey tiles, complementing the warm yellow glow it eminates after dark. Sleek and subtle, this one-storey building creates drama in its simplest form.


Various Alvis’s or possibly Alvi ! From the fifties and sixties. Mostly Graber bodies. Swiss carrosserie house Graber styled a lot of these elegant gentlemen’s cars. Rather old fashioned and without the grunt visited on the Bristol they rather faded away after the TF model. Now very sought after and prized. I managed to drive a TD model in my youth.

She’d fled from Space Mountain in a rush, tripping over her own feet as she went, her backpack heavy with the tape she’d found  ( it weighed down like it was antimatter. )  Maybe people saw her, maybe they didn’t — her own trajectory carried her to the trunk of the Swiss Family Robinson tree house, because that was the only place she could go to feel truly private. She tried to climb, but she failed, and so she ended up crumpled in a sad little heap amongst the tree’s gnarled roots.


Her voice was small and fragile and it still cracked, because oh god, how else could she possibly react? He — he hadn’t even cried when he was being… when he was… when he was going to…! He’d been stoic throughout, and so to see him like that — it was agony, it was somehow worse than anything else that had happened since he—— since he’d——

She had that video in her possession, now — and she refused to let it get out. She didn’t want it to reach Monokuma’s ears, or Kyu’s, or Adachi’s, or anyone else’s. Not like this — he’d made a show of opposing Monokuma the entire time because that was how he wanted to be remembered, right? As the guy who flipped off the warden. The guy who stayed strong until the end, because if he could do it, so could everyone else.

But — what he’d stood for. The message, the one he’d delivered through choked-back emotion. She could… maybe she could… maybe she could… help him…

She’d been useless — god, she’d been SO useless, she couldn’t save him back then and nothing was ever going to change that — but maybe she could pick up his torch. Carry his message forward. Do… do what he would’ve wanted to be done.

A shaking hand raised to pull his hair clip from her bangs, yanking a few hairs out as she did so, but not caring — and she held it close, clutched it near her throat, curled around it as if it was a part of him, and as if she could protect him like this. She spoke in a hushed whisper, as if he’d be able to hear her.

 I’ll do it,   she swore.    Even if it kills me, I — I’m gonna save ‘em… I’ll do anythin’ to save ‘em. Ace——

Whispered, as if that could somehow load meaning into the words, because she meant it — oh god, she’d never meant anything so much in her entire life:

                    I won’t let ya down.

Today I carry:

  1. iPhone + charger + Macbook + charger
  2. A5 sketchbook + 5 x black ink pens, 2 x clutch pencils + lead + miniature bulldog clip + box of 12 white chalks + bone folder
  3. Headphones
  4. Miniature jar of strawberry jam [stolen from restaurant that I did not buy anything from]
  5. 12p [in 1 x 2p coin + 2 x 5p coin]
  6. Paper wallet [that has seen better days]
  7. Book of 12 x 1st class stamps [of which there are 7 left]
  8. Small Batch Coffee Company loyalty card [with 4 stamps]
  9. Cigarette lighter + tobacco tin
  10. 4 x stones from Brighton beach
  11. 8 x 200mg Ibuprofen tablets
  12. Contraceptive pills
  13. Mascara
  14. Miniature swiss army knife + house keys
  15. “A Billion Wicked Thoughts” book on human sexual psychology
  16. “The Rich Man’s Ready Reckoner” book from 1970s of pre-calculated numerical values [stolen from coffee shop]
  17. Diary + golden luck amulet [a gift from an elderly Asian woman]