Actually, it isn't for legal reasons it's because I can't remember his name. I'm going to call him Kev, even though (and this is something I can definitely state) his name was not Kev.
Kev was your standard religious nutter. Now then, many people are slightly nutty, but there is nutty and then there is a pecan pie, slathered with peanut butter, topped with a handful of mixed nuts and served with a platter of walnuts on a beach in Brazil (where the nuts come from). Kev was all of those and he was wearing a coconut on his head (which in many ways isn't even a nut!)
Kev would stand on the doorstep of the vicarage and engage my dad in long conversations about the Bible which, as a vicar, obviously my dad found fascinating. Because my Dad is kind he would not, initially, mind these conversations because, no doubt, he felt that he was helping 'Kev' find his way to some sort of understanding and peace. I imagine, though I do not know this for sure, that Kev probably had some form of mental health issues and so I should be sympathetic. Or empathetic. Or something. Sometimes this is quite hard to attain those states of mind. But my Dad, and my Mum, and my sister were all prepared to help 'Kev' initially.
Because, yes, Kev engaged all of them at various times in these sorts of conversation. Lucky them.
At some point Kev's behaviour became a bit more threatening. I can't remember why this escalation occurred, but I can give two examples of this.
'Kev' was a bit of a technical whiz. So he set up his phone or his computer or something to phone my parents's house every three minutes during the night. I hope that he did this in some technical whizzkiddery way because the thought of somebody sitting up all night phoning every 3 minutes is almost more distressing than the thought of somebody having to put up with the phone ringing every 3 minutes. At least as the telephonee you can take the phone off the hook or turn the ringer off, but if you're going to be the telephoner then you have to stay up all night to do that.
How tired would you be after all that?
Very. Probably not fit for a day at work the next day.
The second example was when 'Kev' came to the vicarage and only my sister was in the house. She told 'Kev' that my Dad wasn't in, and after a couple of minutes told him that she had to go as she needed to go to work. At this point, 'Kev' suffered some sort of seizure and, because my sister is kind, she didn't immediately kick him while he was down or assume that he was faking it, she went to the phone in the kitchen and called for an ambulance. When she turned from the phone 'Kev' was sitting at the kitchen table right as rain. Naturally, this freaked my sister out.
Shortly after this incident the police became involved and 'Kev' was restricted from coming within 100 metres of the vicarage and from contacting my family.
I think this probably caused my Dad some distress, not just because of the distress it caused our family, but because I imagine he wished he had been able to do more to help 'Kev'. But sometimes other people have to take over.
I must apologise to the people involved if I have got some of the details of this affair wrong. I wasn't directly involved and these are quite old memories I'm dredging up.
But maybe 'Kev' stalked me as well?
I have no direct evidence of this, but it is clearly the only possible explanation for this photo that I found amongst all my old photographs when I was looking for old examples of me being fat.
The photo, which appears below, is clearly taken by a stalker peering through my window and getting some kind of weird thrill by taking a photo of me reading some lecture notes with my top off in a shaft of sunlight. Clearly, once my stalker had taken this photo they snuck into my house, inserted the photo amongst some photos which I had taken, and then crept out of my house. Leaving me, 15 years later to find the photo and be freaked out by it.
That is the only rational explanation, because otherwise for some reason I took this photo myself. I made the effort to set up a camera on a timer to take a picture of myself reading some lecture notes, with my top off, in a shaft of sunlight.
And if I did that, then clearly I am a nutter.