lemon with my mouth open. The passenger door opened and my pilot beckoned me in. Her name was Victoria (apparently, her dad had been a fan of the band), and she was quick to explain that if she seemed a little dumbstruck, it was because it was only now starting to sink in that she had just landed her vehicle in an alternate dimension. As everything outside the car simply vanished in the blink of an eye, I told her I had a good idea how she felt.

"Before we go," she said, pointing at my left hand, "the camera?"

"Oh, yes."

I passed it to her. The Doc had told me there was a small piece of tech that would plug in the 'AV out' port on the camera to facilitate the automatic transmission of any photos I took over there to one of their 'transcom' nodes, thus enabling their posting directly to Facebook here, via the chronal tether. She pushed the minute device into place, shut the cover and passed the camera back to me.

"Ready?" She asked, offering up a comforting smile.

I nodded. She moved to press a button on the dashboard, somewhat whimsically labelled 'I Wonder What This Button Does?' I lifted the camera in readiness.

"I really wouldn't bother," she said, "there's nothing to see until we get there, trust me."

And that's the last thing I remember, until I was dropped back in Hackensall Woods later that evening, following an ordeal I was not able to remember anything of, but which I now know had lasted for some three months.

T M N   H E L P L I N E

If you've been affected by Mick's story, The Magic Net Counselling Service Helpline is available to tell you whatever will make you feel warm, safe and comfortable again, 24 hours a day (equivalent to about 1½ minutes in Transdimensional Tether Time), 7 days a week. Calls are charged at unjustifiably excessive rates, so please do check the bill payer's credit rating before dialling 0898 777137 and asking for Slack Suzi.

SENSEMILLIA'S STORY...

Poor Sammi. She was the one with the unfortunate task of looking after communications here on the event day, while I was away being fêted by the media on the alternate Earth. It was supposed to be a simple job, just happily posting the pictures being beamed to her and chatting to fans. Instead, she ran into all sorts of problems. Firstly, she had expected support from The Doc and Mick Tron from the other side, and to be able to announce my safe arrival there at 15:20. That time came and went and Sam was struggling with the broadband connection and experiencing difficulty with postings. Finally, at 15:28, The Doc broke the silence with the last words she would wanted to have heard; "Sam, where are you? Please tell me he hasn't gone yet." Their Earth had been under alien attack since the Wednesday night, and although they had found the SCV intact on Thursday morning, there had been no sign of the pilot or myself. Some people didn't realise the gravity of the situation and made jokes about me being late there because I'd needed a wee (you know who you are), but Sam soldiered on, while quietly fearing the worst and checking my life insurance was up to date. Finally, at 15:38 on our Earth, but sometime on October 30th on theirs, the confirmation came through that I was still breathing...

15:38 - "Damn, too late! Its The Doc, Sam, he's here, unfortunately, but we know he's alive. We'd put a special device in his camera to help facilitate communications between us and yourselves, it's just transmitted this photograph, we think it would have been taken about a week ago."

That was merely the beginning of the worry for her, she was only too well aware that every minute and a half that passed for her was another day gone by on my side. All the poor girl could do was sit back and watch me age before her eyes, while strange pictures of woods, derelict buildings, UFO's and an alien in a black mask appeared. I was originally scheduled to have been back in the MMATT office by 16:00, having been away for 13 days from my point of view. Instead, it was more than two hours past that, nearly three months for me, that Sam was confronted with a picture of a haggard looking Mick Magic with a gun barrel forced into his mouth. Again, some people did not realise the gravity of the situation, making heartless comments like "Suck on that, Shipman!" You know who you are too. As luck would have it, they had already found out where I was by then and my rescue was at hand. I finally staggered home about ten minutes to seven that evening. Following a tearful reunion with my wife and child, I sat on the stairs and bravely posed with a 'thumbs up' to reassure fans everywhere that I was okay and well. Following extensive counselling, Sam has made a full recovery. As for myself, when reawakened after the SCV had landed back on our Earth, I found I had no memory whatsoever of what had happened to me those three months. In the five weeks since, I have began to get flashes of recall as I've looked back through the photos posted on our Facebook page that day, but have as yet failed to re-establish contact with The Doc and Mick Tron on the other side. However, this week, I got the netbook I had taken with me back from the repair shop, and have discovered on it a journal I kept during my time there. The final entry is headed "Day 87 - Tuesday 24th January 2017", but to date, I have only read the first couple of days. As I get through it, I will post the photos I took into the DTRH album on our Facebook page, along with the additional information I glean from the journal, which I shall also make available in its entirety, once I have been able to copy it into a publishable format and put in the photos. There seems to be over a hundred pages when all the text is put into MS Word format at A4, so it might take a month or so, but I'm fairly confident it should be ready for New Year. Watch the skies, it's coming...

What a difference a day makes - "All the poor girl could do was sit back and watch me age before her eyes..."