This is a merge of my 'Wanderer' blog that tells of two years of my three years on the streets, and a new blog that tells of my life after the Diocese of Winchester ripped through my life for for the last few years on top of the previous serious harm that left me homeless
This is a day to day blog of my life as I continue to survive, work on recovery and on the social problems that I have and try to come to terms with limitless traumas I have survived along the way.
This blog is in tandem with my blog about my experiences in the Church of England

The former name of this blog and the name of it's sister blog are to do with my sense of humour, which I hope to keep to the end, which appears to be ever more rapidly approaching. At least I laughed, and I laughed at the people who were destroying me. Don't forget that.

Here are my books, which I wrote for you if you would like to know more:

Sunday 22 July 2018

It's the lyrics 'I saw the end before we began' today.
Sometimes love is like that.
I saw the end before we began.
Those of you have followed my writing since 2014 will remember that I chose to settle and to love, despite the very real and overpowering risk to my life and wellbeing by the church if I did. I chose to love again, even though nothing could heal the way I was ripped from Jersey, and Jersey was ripped from me.
I also, as you know, chose not to take up offers of accommodation and work in Jersey after the church attacked me in the press in 2013, because I knew it wasn't safe or sustainable, and again, I was correct. Instead I chose here, and rather than fall in love as I did with Jersey, I chose to love, against that risk that turned to reality. Knowing that the likelihood of my weakness in choosing to love and settle would cost me my life at the hands of the church.  And now we have re-enacted every scene of Jersey, we have gone backwards forwards, to the same outcome, or is it?

If you try to reconstruct a situation, the strengths and weaknesses are reversed, and that was the gamble.

So here we are at the end.

 So here we are at the end,
and in the end, there is never enough time,
it is always sudden, time runs out,
and all I can do, is say I love you. Break our unwritten rule,
but sometimes short time is a mercy. 

Now I watch you,
I see your beauty, your life,
I see everything I love,
and I try to memorize it beyond time, 
so that it can never ever leave me.

If only someone would speak,
break the silence and the tears,
and tell me that it is all a dream,
and that I can live alongside you, 
gruffly pretending not to care, forever. 

I wake in the night and the dreams turn to tears,
How can this be? How can you and I be parted?
How can our mutual pretence of indifference be brutally ended?
I know you,  you are my life, my lifeline.
You held me here and we had an agreement. 

Will I forget you one day?
Forget what you look like? 
Will I laugh in scorn,
At our bond?
I don't think so. 

Here I watch the sunset on the jagged clouds
The grey water shining in the fading light
I turn my head so that no one can see my tears
My broken heart.
I loved you so very very much. 

Saturday 21 July 2018

Last night I dreamed about a place with a garden that went up and up a hill, up into the clouds. Someone told me it was for me, and I didn't have to do any work on it as there were already gardeners.
It was a wooded garden, with the trees going into the clouds, and fruit and flowers, there was a greenhouse and gardeners area.
But I didn't really take to it, wasn't too keen.

There were gangsters and church people and a film in my dream as well, mainly mixed together.

Friday 20 July 2018

Do you remember Marvin the Paranoid Android, singing a lullaby?
I have no idea why I suddenly do.

As I lay me down to sleep,
try to count electric sheep,
how I hate the night.

Funny what we remember from decades ago.

I am suffering very severe trauma and despair.

Isn't it funny how my therapist did a test on me that showed I was suffering trauma and despair several years before the church really took to destroying me? 06 or 07 I think.
I think she would be surprised that I am alive, well actually I am not. No human being would withstand what I have been through.

I dreamed about the farm last night, I guess grief has to come out some way or other, doesn't it?

I was looking for that bit in 'Broken' where Skunk and her dad are at the Church when she is in a coma, and she wants him to say goodbye.
She reminds me so much of me aged 12, only I was very depressed and much more ragged and slow by then.
I had already had the spirit beaten out of me by age 12. I think if I had had a family who loved me, it may have been different, but there is no one to grieve me, I could have died 8 years ago and not been either missed or grieved, I have had no place on this earth for a long time.

This trailer kind of ruins the moment, but it is a nice reminder of that devastating film:

I can't really come to terms with the damage to me by the police, NHS and other authorities, it can never be put right.

Last night I dreamed very vividly that I was back at the farm, the farm people and housekeeper were there.

Thursday 19 July 2018


Good evening peeps.

There is still no word from the police, even though professional standards have been forced to acknowledge the complaint.
I remain overwhelmed with exhaustion and uncontrollable trauma, things have been dreadful for so long, but now they are past dreadful, beyond hope.

There were four police searching the park earlier, I watched, and considered going over and asking if they were looking for me.

My arms still hurt really bad where they brutalized me, and it has been five weeks, the nerve damage remains. But nothing has been done.

Wednesday 18 July 2018

What I remember most from this song is that Juliet had it on a CD in her car, and after her dad died we used to listen to it when we went to Sarum Road to see her mum in the hospital or Basingstoke to see Jean in hospital.

But I rewrote it to be about the way my community of Littleton and Winchester was taken from me by the Diocese of Winchester in their vengeful hatred when I reported abuse.

I haven't asked Dakin to play any song when he disposes of me after killing me, apart from the Notre Dame Victory March at St Clems Bay, because part of the price I am asking for his murder of me, is t be taken home and laid to rest in Jersey.

But this was my rewrite.

See the bay tree, how big it's grown, 
but friend it hasn't been too long,
it wasn't big,
you laughed at me and I got mad,
the first day that I planted it, was just a twig.

She was always young at heart,
kind of dumb and kind of smart,
and I loved her so,
and Bonnie, I miss you, 

Now all that's left are bitter tears,
and memories of happier years,
in Littleton, 
and I remember still, 
how she pulled you up that hill, 
while I laughed and clapped,

Now my life's an empty stage
where Bonnie lived and Bonnie played
and love grew up. 

The Bay Tree was still there when I went back, very big and tall, but the home and community that was beautiful and full of joy, was taken over by the d,ark evil of the Diocese of Winchester. And even in the beginning, that evil showed, when Roger went off with a girl from the diocesan office when his wife was dying and people accepted that as OK, compared to the way they condemned me for reporting abuse. Horrific isn't it, that a  million pound company such as the diocese, is without safeguarding or morals or proper regulation, and worse, they use God's Name as they commit their evil.

When Fisher and the Scott-Joynts had me destroyed and left destitute on the streets of Winchester and slandered me round my friends and community, leaving me outcast. I had nothing, I was destitute, all my possessions left behind. But I got a CDs was the musical 'Evita' and I remember listening to this as I rode around on the buses to keep warm, and thought about death as my whole life had been taken from me:
My late best friend used to get sick, but that was before the terminal illness, but she used to say to me that she would simply go to Dignitas if it got too much.
I used to get worried by that, and I would tell my late adoptive mum about it and say it worried me.
But in the end, by the time the cancer was diagnosed, she was already dying, and had a few short months at home with her family.

Last night my nightmares, when I finally slept, were about the police beating and imprisonment by my abusers at Sussex, where I was not allowed to defend myself or have a voice.

Tuesday 17 July 2018


As I go, remember,
I smiled, I tried to smile
as the world got darker and darker
and hope got further away

I loved people, even though I couldn't bond
and I cared even though I couldn't be close
and my life was to help others

I was bewildered and confused
by the cruelty of those who took my life
and their denials to cover their own wrongs

I went on and on having hope
that those inflicting the inhumanity would have a change of heart
and I would be able to regain my life
and return home

No one is all bad
even though those who destroyed me
wanted me to be

Every happy time I managed to squeeze
out of the endless darkness
poetry and music, days out and learning

Remember me smiling
and know that although eternally branded and condemned
I did my very best
through tears and anguish, hatred and condemnation, 
I did my best. 


Good evening peeps,

I just finished reading one of my Stephen King books, it only took a large coffee at the late night coffee bar.

Last night I had the same dream, Winchester Cathedral as a ruin, everyone gone. Then I dreamed of my late friend who died a few years ago, she was alive, but not alive, because even in dreams, I tend to know that people who have died are dead, but she was just there in the dream. It made me sad.

Each day is a struggle with severe trauma and depression, waiting for the end. It is hard to sit alone in a dead world. Mornings and evenings are the worst times, and nights can be utter hell if I don't sleep properly.

Last night I really struggled to sleep, and when I slept, it was dreams and nightmares. I was always waiting for that last beating and imprisonment, as you know, but it didn't make it any easier to bear.
I hoped it would kill me, but it stopped just short, and you know how if you see an animal injured on the road, you should put it out of its misery? I wish they had finished it off, not left me waiting for another one.

This reminds me of my childhood on the South Coast, watching the ships go out:

Monday 16 July 2018


Good evening peeps,

The wait between what was my life and what be my death, continues.
It isn't nice or fun.

I dreamed about Winchester last night, as I often do, it was one of the Cathedral series dreams, but this time the Cathedral was dark, ghostly and derelict, cold, the water of the river had risen around it and in the dream, for the first time, my abusers had gone, but I was dead, so it didn't matter. Usually they are there, officiating and living, while I suffer in those dreams. I didn't remember the dream this morning, it came back as a flashback in the afternoon.

I would rather dream of my old Winchester, before them, the Winchester where Poppy and the Arbour and Norf Walls were. When I was struggling to learn to live after my childhood, but I told you without any doubt that last year's Norf Walls was my last one on earth, and I knew and know it to be the case. I could barely stay on my feet to salute my home city last year. But at least I lived to know and love the firebrands, and to my death, my Winchester, the not the Diocese of Evil's Winchester, will live in my heart and all that will be left when I die, is for the Diocese of Evil and their Church to be held accountable for their merciless and relentless destruction of me. And I am sure you know how Welby will react, with his lies and duplicity and fake weeping for the woman he murdered without remorse.

'It's getting late, give me back my friends',
'It's too late, it's too late'.

I will never return to my home city as my home, but it was the foundation for all of my life after I left my family, and the Diocese of Winchester destroyed it all to scapegoat me for their failures and abuses. I have suffered more injuries and deeper injuries than a human being can survive.

The waiting continues, with the silence from the police. I  guess the police intend to kill me when they find me. They have not contacted me since the beating.

What has happened to me because of the church's ownership of courts, police and authorities and refusal of responsibility should not be able to happen in this day and age and must never happen again. Jesus gave His life to save many, and He was scared and didn't want to die. I am not Jesus or comparable to him, the church have damned me to hell, but they do to me as their predecessors did to  Jesus, for similar reasons, they want to drown out the nasty truths that prick their consciences. I will die if it means that my death will mean that the church are prevented from killing others, that  they are regulated and stopped from lying about safeguarding while abusing their power to destroy and silence victims.
I may as well be killed, I can't recover from the weight of harm, no one would be able to.

I got two new Stephen King books to keep me occupied as I wait.
I forgot to say, I gave up watching Under the Dome, because as it progressed, it was nothing like the book and it was just the usual tripe that many films spew out, sex, relationships, silly emotions and people messing with each others' heads, do you neurotypicals really find that stuff entertaining? I liked the book, even though it is grim, Barbie and Julia were brilliant in the book and the book is much more realistic and imaginable than the film.

Hello Scott and Christchurch,  pray for me?

Sunday 15 July 2018

Hey peeps,

I haven't felt much like writing. It's hard to write when you are between death and grave.

I have bee watching 'Under the Dome' on Amazon. In some ways it's true to the book, in some ways the story runs very differently. Barbie is a lot like he was in the book.

I haven't really recovered from the police beating, physically and mentally. I am struggling to even put my affairs and possessions in order because I am stupid with shock.

It is hard to think, but I try to think in terms of it being the end of a very horrific and comfortless life, and I try to have something reasonably appetizing to eat and I read and I watch things like Under the Dome, and try to find decent books to read. But when I look at this beautiful place that I chose to call home even though I knew the Church would destroy  it, I just cry. And I don't see the beauty, I see the swirling blackness of approaching death.

Do you remember this?  September 2016 after the seige of my home by the police for the church:

Thursday 12 July 2018

Thursday Evening

Good evening peeps,

It seems strange talking to you again. I walked in the dark alone for a while. Like I did in 2010.

I remember this blog in its heyday, when it was alive, and I, despite the increasing damage, was also alive. It has been quite a journey, from 2011 when apart from chasing me through the authorities with slander so I couldn't get help or settle, the church saw me as dead and alone and sleeping rough, the whole world saw me as dead, and on to the church's massive launch of their attack in 2013 and the three years of hell, before they destroyed me publicly, and the years since when they routinely attack me with the police but refuse to do anything about my case, and now, between the violent police attack and my death, this short and very sad wait, with absolutely everything gone. You know no human being could possibly survive what I have survived don't you? Now I am walking to my death, the Bishop and police will oblige, I am sure.

Today I had to go through those awful press attacks by the JEP, BBC and ITV for the court, and it left me very shaken. although in this fugue dream state between life and death, it seems more like a faraway nightmare. It is what they did to me, and there has been no justice or resolution. It is as horrific now as it was then.
But it brought back clear memories of Jersey. See you soon Jersey. Who will join me for that last walk?

I am so tired. It is nearly dark, nearly sleep time. Always so tired now. Tired and drifting aimlessly in  space, no hope of gathering the pieces up this time. My hand will never have feeling again, it will always be a strange cold thing that isn't really mine anymore, and I don't want to live like that, so lets hope the Bishop arranges the death soon.
It seems like years ago I lost my home because of the Bishop and his safeguarding director and their beating and imprisonment of me to cover up their wrong, years ago, my home, my friends, my work, my volunteer roles and community, my island, wasn't it years ago? Was it four weeks ago? How long has the walk in the dark been?

I am absolutely going to sleep, never mind how early it is.


Good morning peeps,

I hate typing with this left hand not as it should be. I really need some help with it, counselling maybe, 'My hand is no longer mine, I am bereft'. It is like the shock of being told that my spine is broken, it will never get better.
I did my first article since the police attack the other day, it was an alcohol tasting gig, it was quite interesting, I learned from the research, which is what I love about writing, but whereas before the Bishop of Winchester's police attack, I was trying to improve my typing speed, now I am just trying to be able to type at all, I haven't done any transcription, but I am not sure I can, considering that I had only just achieved a competent speed before.

My article was accepted, it turned out surprisingly nice, I have taken on a rather complex grade 2 one now, not sure I can do it although the money is good. Ideally it should be in today, but I am waiting for a court form.

Anyway, I am blogging to tell you about my dream last night.

I had to get up and add an extra layer again as the temperature dropped a lot. I always say that from the longest day, there is a long slow bowl down towards autumn, but no one believes me. But as a veteran rough sleeper, I can assure you it is true.

Anyway, I dreamed I was at Riding for the Disabled. I have never been before so it was a strange vivid dream. I dreamed I went on the horse and cart ride, round and round, and I got to meet a cute Shetland Pony, and the boy leading the carriage horse was autistic, so after the ride, he just wandered off and stroked a ginger cat.
That was a funny dream because it was vivid.
I will never get to do riding for the disabled because of how the church have branded me.

Anyway, how about England? They were knocked out on penalties. I didn't need a TV or anything, I just listened, to the people in their houses shouting :) actually I did have a live updater on the laptop. I did actually support England this time, because I was kindly a guest to watch the match against Columbia and I saw England trying to steady the game as Columbia played dirty tricks and used violence, so I have been rooting for England this time. It was a very sad near miss in yesterday's match, especially as England scored early and kept that lead for a large part of the game.
Now England can only play for third place.

I wish I was young and strong again, playing football up by Jersey Airport and being distracted by the planes, I loved it :) but even playing football as a homeless person, before the extent of my injuries was known, my physiotherapist said it was too much impact and I shouldn't play :(
You know my memories of that though, they had funding to get the rough sleepers playing football. And we played on that harsh astro turf, but one day, the coach said to us 'It's Jim's last match because he's having his leg amputated tomorrow'.
That's what I remember.

So, I hoped to be dead by now, instead, the tense wait for the end continues.

Wednesday 11 July 2018


Good morning peeps,

I still don't feel much like blogging, it is still way strange to type without my left hand.
Most of you will be aware that the Bishop of Winchester had me violently beaten  by police and imprisoned to try to silence me, and the result is loss of some of my hand, which is a shame because if I was to live, I am going to lose my legs eventually due to the broken spine, because the funding I needed to save my spine, has been taken, so I need both hands for a wheelchair :)


So, the situation is that I am homeless and with no choice but to remain that way  and as a complete fugitive this time, no friends, community or anything that will enable me to be found. The oppressive hot weather continues, although last night was surprisingly cold, I had to wake and find warmer apparel. As I write, the police have failed to communicate with me after the police attack described in the appendix of Cathy's blog.

I hope that you have seen Cathy Fox's blog.

But I have an unrecorded story to share, that may make you chuckle, although it was far from funny at the time, very serious indeed.


A week after the police attack, I was homeless. Literally sleeping rough. But none of my remaining clients for gardening would accept my resignation and all were trying to ignore and override it, which is both strange and callous, considering that I was ill, injured and homeless and not in any state to work. A good gardener who charges a low wage because of her disability is apparently rare, idiots. 

But as a result, I ended up in serious trouble with poison. 
It was the farm, refusing to accept that I wasn't in a position to work. I was there, working. It was a very sad time because not only was I going to override their determination to keep me on, but the poulty, ducks and geese were getting a disease that was killing them, and I was heartbroken. The farm, as you know, had been one of the lights of my life during the tough times, it had given me pride and responsibility and happiness. 

Anyway, a gardener of 17 years career, even if it was at an end, I knew my plants, but I was distracted and distressed, and I wiped the tears from my eyes, after cutting back a very toxic plant.
I am sure you can imagine what happened.

Only it didn't happen immediately. It was a bit later, when I got into town, I was trying to work out where to sleep when I realised that my sore and streaming eyes were not just caused by upset or hayfever, I could hardly open my eyes.

I wasn't sure what to do, although I remembered the time I got that wasp sting above my eye. So I went to the chemist, but they were too busy chatting and then they were just bumbling around and muttering about eye wash, and by now I was in agony. So I left.

I didn't know what to do, I was homeless and outcast, no one to turn to, everyone had turned away because of the police attack, and I hate asking for help.
In the end I collapsed on the steps of a Catholic Church. Haha. 
The Catholics got me water and tissues to bathe my eyes, and I think that really helped to save my eyes, I still didn't realise what I had got in them, or I would have gone straight to Casualty.
Then one old Catholic woman tried to 'Move me on', thinking I was a 'homeless', well I was, but she got the sermon of a lifetime from me, and I think she actually learned from it especially as I wrote to the priest the following day!
Ha. You know how it is. 
Anyway, the Catholic Server told me to try the other chemist, it was getting into evening now, so there was a late night chemist within walking distance, so I walked there, blind, opening or closing my eyes was agony. But I got there.

The chemists were at a loss, they gave me eye drops but they hadn't seen anything like this and didn't know what to do. They told me to go and bathe my eyes in the toilet and put drops in. I did, but it was agony.
I knew I had to go to casualty, even though I am terrified of the NHS and had only been in casualty a week earlier with the results of the police beating, and it was not only a weekend night but a very crazy one with a local festival bound to be supplying casualty with many drink and drug related emergencies.

I managed to walk blind to Casualty, about a mile and over the main road, God must have been looking after me.

Weekend and festival evening with casualty already doing brisk business, it is never the place for someone with autism, but now it was utter hell. 
The blurred shadows on the desk were too busy talking to turn and speak to me, so after a few minutes, I left. But I knew I was in serious trouble, so I went back in.

A paramedic came and spoke to me, random but at least someone did. I told him I was alone and had Aspergers and that I had got something in my eyes and they were agony.

He told me to hang on a few minutes and they would book me in.

Eventually they did, but I was cold and sick and they gave me a hat to be sick in, I am terrified of the hospital, so I was sick with fear. They repeated their stupidity of a few years ago, when I was there when Bob Hill collapsed, they read out the lies and inaccuracies. 

Hours went by, casualty was swamped, and they told me it might be six hours before I was seen. Yes, really. And I had realised what plant sap I had got in my eyes and I knew it was dangerous and the result could be blindness, God I was scared. I want to die because of the church and police, but being blind as well while they kill me, it doesn't bear thinking about.

The two casualty departments had a dialogue because of the effect of me waiting was not going to be good, they shunted the conversation up and down between them and made a decision to have me sent to another hospital.

I was nervous, had never been there, but I was greeted by the most happy nurse and receptionist, they got me water to drink and made me stay awake, the hospital was less mad and stressed and I enjoyed listening to two ladies who knew each other and who had both been brought in as precautions. 

It didn't take long to see the doctor, he looked very grave, he told me it was very toxic sap that had got into my eyes, and the affect could be delayed and serious. He told me that there was no eye specialist available and that I might have to travel some distance, he also said he was tempted to send me back to casualty at the other site for an in-depth, but I told him it was a six hour wait and that I was freaking out up there, so he said he would do his very best with my eyes.

He put drops in my eyes, you will hear more about the hilarious result of that later, the drops turned my eyes and the area round my eyes orange and gold :) but wait and I will tell you. Anyway, he examined my eyes carefully, because that sap can cause ulcerations and destroy the cornea and eye, eventually he said it looked as if I had got away with it, the agony had begun to ease a bit now, he said that the damage can be delayed and that if anything happened within the next day, I was to rush to the big hospital, 10 miles away as the eye specialist was there and I would have no other hope of saving my eyes. Easier said than done, how would I rush there, blind and without help?

Anyway, he made me read a letters chart, and I could, so we decided I would probably be OK. And it had meant casualty had one less person to worry about, he did also check my mental state and asked if I was suicidal, as it was obvious that all was not well, so I told him that I wished I was dead but that is not the same as being suicidal - never tell a medical professional that you are suicidal or you will be imprisoned or beaten and locked up.

Anyway. The doctor said I was OK to go home. I hadn't told the hospital I was homeless, they had my old address as a result of the police beating the previous week, so I let them use that, so I went out into the night with a raging headache and sore eyes, but just sore now, not agonizing. I felt relieved and shaken. And now I had to go and find somewhere to sleep. I slept under the clear starry sky, wondering if I would wake up blind, but I didn't, and my eyes recovered. It was a narrow escape as that toxic sap has a particular warning that it can cause blindness.

I missed something out, about the eye drops turning my eyes and around them orange and yellow.
The local festival had an orange and yellow theme, and when I left the hospital and went to the late night coffee bar, everyone thought I had come from the festival!
Apart from one man who worked there, who could see how swollen my eyes were, he was very sympathetic, and the man who was in the next casualty cubicle from me the time the police beat me up, he is always in the coffee bar and always says hi when he sees me, he must have heard every word about the police beating me up.

Friday 15 June 2018


Good evening peeps,

Well, no better. Temperature up and down like a bouncy ball, in and out of sleep, and coughing.

To make things worse, the Bishop of Winchester is failing in his obligations.
He is supposed to have me hounded, beaten and imprisoned by police routinely. It has been 8 months since his last bodged attempt and he is stubbornly refusing, as if he hadn't failed enough already.
Things have gone downhill, does the man expect me to arrange my own beatings and imprisonments now or something? In their heyday the diocese could arrange a quick beating within minutes.

Thursday 14 June 2018


Good evening peeps,

I was very poorly today, my temperature rocketed and I was sweating and I couldn't breathe.
I was asleep for a very long time, long enough to get very dehydrated and to trigger pain because I couldn't support my head and neck in my sleep. There is no-one here, my landlord is away, and I was asleep for so long, I was just too ill to do anything, I haven't eaten.

I was dreaming about Jersey and Winchester.
In my dream there was the storm that was so bad that it washed that shark up on the wall at Noirmont, like what happened in those final days of the Church of England destroying me in Jersey.

I dreamed about the sea in the sunlight, it was turquoise blue and Anna was on the ferry with her ferry collar, and she was at the back, so I could stand there and see her and see the steaming light on the ferry as we rode the bay to St. Helier. Dreams are funny, how they confuse night and day. The steaming light and the storm and dark couldn't be at the same time as the sunlight on the water.

A trio of angels holding candles of life, guide a ship to an unknown shore. 
Travelling along a cloudy path, with a wing a heart and a prayer. 

I dreamed of Winchester, my people were still there in my dream, and the Cathedral was the landmark of my home, rather than a symbol of the hatred and injustice of the church of england. I dreamed that me and Poppy were rolling down the Arbour bank in the snow, and it was sausage and potato for supper at home. Jewry street was in the sunlight and life was young and beautiful.
It was night and day at the same time there as well.

But when I woke up, I woke up to illness and complete loss of hope, and agony.

I didn't, as you may have guessed, have any more spine treatment, and I can't, so I will lose my spine and legs, and I didn't go to London or to work today. I slept for many hours and I feel very very ill.

Wednesday 13 June 2018


Good evening peeps,

Things have been really bad.

I have a really severe chest infection, which has now gone to a temperature, and a cool shower hasn't helped.

I would have earned the money for my spinal treatment by now but on Monday I was sick, and by the time I was feeling better, when the care home emailed to say they had the bedding plants, I thought that would be a good job to do, but the compost hadn't arrived.
Then yesterday morning I went to go to work and Max wouldn't start, worse still, I had rolled him back to move out, and I was blocking the garage.

The car's best friend arrived a few hours later, I had tried to write some articles in the meantime, we jump started Max, but his battery was old and knackered, so we went to the industrial estate and changed it.

That took all my reserve money, so it was looking impossible to raise the money for the spinal treatment, which was booked for tomorrow, along with my transport and fares.
By the time Max was running, it was 1pm, and the morning's work was lost.

The care home had the compost, so I went and did that, but I felt exhausted and useless, hundreds of bedding plants later, I came home with enough time to shower and go back out to see my friends, they are so busy that we have trouble finding time to meet up, and I was so tired I nearly cancelled.

We had a very nice evening though and it was good to see them. They know my landlord and they know he wants my room back so he can run a bed and breakfast, so they and all my friends are looking for somewhere for me.

Last night I coughed all night, really bad, little sleep. The chest infection came from not being able to get away from allergens on the train and around public places and transport in Wales, but it has become a really bad one and now my temperature is up as well.

Today was just as much a disaster. I can no longer even do a morning's heavy work, my back has simply given in and said it won't hold, so I am dividing all my work into two hour slots, which is annoying but I can't work otherwise, so I went and did two hours for my lady on the cliffs, but she was having a bad day, worried sick over a scan for returning cancer, she went for her scan, and I battled trauma and flashbacks as I worked alone.

Then the DWP contacted me to say that they had totally trashed my PIP claim and were removing my DLA.
As I am sure you can imagine, this means no psychological therapy, and worse beyond imagining, I cannot continue and complete the spinal treatment, and my spine will degenerate until I am incapacitated, and there is nothing I can do. Even if the NHS hadn't destroyed me and thrown me away in conjunction with the church and police, they do not offer the treatments that would save my spine, their usual line is to feed dangerously strong drugs to people, and I react to those, so saying that I should go to the NHS now would not be appropriate, I work for people who have  been left with this pain and degeneration and the NHS are just pumping drugs into them.

So, I have lost my battle to save my spine and my career, I have lost the delivery driving work, I am losing my home, Max has been hit by the neighbour's car and has also broken down, and now his gear stick has broken,  I have a raging chest infection and a temperature, and tomorrow I have tickets and fares pre-booked to a spinal treatment that I have no money for and have had to cancel, for good.
Anyone for some rhubarb trifle?

It's really not funny.

Monday 11 June 2018


Good evening peeps,

Last night I took Max for a short drive, but it wasn't the same as driving the Passat along the endless Welsh Roads. Max is small and his handbrake and gears are different, and I had to get used to it all after getting used to the Passat.
I was right to be worried about Max with the crazy neighbours, one of them has bumped his side and left him with a dent and scratch and knocked his trim, but of course they won't own up to it, and no one else could have done it, they have reversed into him.

Anyway, Last night I didn't sleep well, I had a headache and I was coughing, with troubled dreams and shallow, patchy sleep.
I woke this morning feeling unbelievably ill. My chest was terrible and my head too. I had hoped to start work at 8 and get three gardens done, but that wasn't happening.

It was murder, going through meds and saline, trying to just get as far as being human.
I had to go to the chemist, I didn't want to go anywhere but the pharmacist gave me something that wouldn't clash with codeine, and told me that if I wasn't getting better then I would need antibiotics.
I have no wish to be on those, so I am doing my best to clear my lungs.

Anyway, the care home emailed me and said they had hundreds of bedding plants delivered for me to play with, I thought that would be a nice light occupation on a warm summer day and it might help me to feel better. I had told them before they ordered, that we would need compost, but when I arrived, there was a splendid array of bedding plants and no compost!
I spoke to the manager and they had ordered compost, but it hadn't been delivered, so they phoned and it should be delivered tomorrow.
In the meantime I used what old compost I had, to get some planters done, and I added feed and water gel to improve the old compost, and I watered all the bedding plants that are still waiting to be done.
And that was the extent of today's work, I coughed my way home and got on with some writing and more meds.

This evening I found out that the people I do delivery driving have done the same again, got the old driver back, the one who has accidents and is off all the time, and replaced me again, ha, it gets a bit stupid, they aren't very good to work for, because they keep doing this.

I decided to have a drive along the cliffs, as I have got a bit overwhelmed now, the holiday and return home, being ill, the delivery driving situation, and also my landlord wanting this place back, he only took me in as a temporary, and now he wants to proceed his plans for running a bed and breakfast.
So I took a drive to the cliffs, the bay had no surf, no surfers, a calm sea with a wave breaking on the shoreline.
As I headed back, my friend who lives on the cliffs was walking the dog, and she spotted me and I spotted her, and so I ended up back at theirs for a tea and chat, they already know all about my situation and things, so they are looking for a home for me and putting the word out, and it was good to chat to them.
I don't normally see my friends in the evenings except if it is what we arranged, like when I see my other friends tomorrow evening for a hot chocolate appointment, but that was totally by chance this evening, and very comforting and nice.

So here I am home, coughing me lungs out, and gonna sleep on some codeine and hope it is all better in the morning.

I just got another perfect score on a transcription project, and I have a book review and an article to finish.

Sunday 10 June 2018


Good evening peeps,

Broadcasting from home, sitting in bed. Tired.
I wasn't too bad when I woke at about 10am. I just got tired as I tried to work and do chores as normal, but I have got the shopping, done the washing, and not got much work done.
I have a book review and an article and limitless other things to do.
I still have this cough as well.

On Friday I drove to Cardiff and stayed in the bed and breakfast, it was OK, lots of tea and coffee, a comfy bed, and a TV that worked, the door banging didn't last long, and although I was worried that the bed was too soft, it was fine, the pillows were absolutely lovely and I slept well.

I woke early and tipped myself indignantly out of bed for shower, dressing, and breakfast, before I set off on my drive. I had been so tired that I didn't do much in Cardiff, I had a look round town and a look at the stadium and castle, although the castle was closing, so I couldn't do a proper tour. The stadium is huge, and the Stereophonics were there this weekend, so it was all a bit mad in Cardiff, but I am pleased to see that Cardiff is regenerating just as Newport is. And I loved seeing all the trains.

Anyway, so after a pleasant stay in Cardiff, I set off, Cardiff and Swansea bays were under a low cloud and mist, so I couldn't see anything of the Volvo Race.
I drove out from Cardiff to Swansea, and I enjoyed seeing the big dark hills at Port Talbot. I have a funny story about Port Talbot, I nearly went to live there once.

Swansea Bay was very boring under a low cloud and a far tide, not even worth comparing with our seascapes here. Still, it was a nice drive, and I had Nation on the radio. Nation is a Welsh National Radio Station, and it is always very good.

I drove over to the Mumbles. I have to say, the Gower Peninsula was like a cross between Jersey in a sulk, and home, I didn't find it as awesome as I had hoped, or as my friends had hoped. They like it.
There are lots of bays, some close together and you have to go up and down winding little roads, and the Passat is much bigger than Max.

When I take over Wales, I am going to have the Peninsula redesigned, shortened, and we will merge some bays. Vote me in, Jane Dodds lost the last election by tens of thousands, so she won't win against me. I may even put my redesign of the Gower Peninsula to vote before I ignore the vote and proceed.

You start out at 'Bracelet Bay' which is a lovely name for a slightly boring area. Then you trot through lots of mundane bays and then you find the long sweepy beaches that are more like back home.
I have to admit, the highlight for me was the Welsh Ponies grazing free on an area that was like the New Forest. Wales has the Welsh Cobs those as worked in the mines, and the Welsh Mountain Ponies, these looked to me like Welsh Mountains, (yes I do know a bit about horses and ponies) and they were sleek, beautiful, and very unafraid, I got pictures of them as they grazed by the road and mooched on the road with their foals. That was awesome, I will post the pictures at some point.

Anyway, so I got my head in a spin, trying to make my way round the peninsula, and in the end I was flagging and getting tired and crotchety, so I pulled over and got some photos of the boring and hazy bay, and started back.

A few hours later I lunched at a service station on the M4, and texted my friends that I was on my way back. The service station had surprisingly good tea :)

I arrived back at theirs in time for another good cup of tea before they dropped me off at the train station.
They said again that I can have the Passat if anything goes wrong with Max before they trade the Passat in next year, and it isn't such a mad idea, I can drive the Passat well, and it is a nice drive, the problem is, it is big and I can't really afford to run it.

It was sad to say goodbye to my friends again. And then it was the long harsh journey home. The train was still very crowded but not as bad as on the way up, and I was able to sit, alone, writing was hard as the internet wasn't working and I didn't have a table seat, so I couldn't do much, and I didn't have a book with me and couldn't access Kindle. I kept my collar on and kept taking me meds and water, I drank the whole litre by three hours, and I could have done with more.

The journey home took five and a half hours, the train was running late, but I got home.
I am tired now.

I have to get a lot of work done over the next few days, before I go to  London, and I am taking Max, not ideal, but travelling to London isn't ideal in any way, shape or form, it is just something I have to do.

Friday 8 June 2018


Good evening peeps,

The increased stats indicate that the church of england's rag paper are drivelling again, they do that on Fridays, they spend three years actively destroying me for the church and when I challenged them they whimpered themselves into the ground and continued to attack and destroy me for the church.

I have a slight chest infection, no wonder, all these unusual environments with cigarette smoke, perfume and out of bounds cleaning products and substances that don't exist in my personal hamster wheel at home. And I was enjoying the fresh air from the open window, but someone is smoking dope outside, which is never good for my lungs.

Earlier I left my friends to do their stress and unpacking things, they were happy with their clean house and contented cat.
I drove down here, but I got so tired that all I could do was go to the shops, get food, and come back here to rest and watch television.

My bed and breakfast is very basic, but loads of teabags, sugar and milk in the kitchen, and a kettle, and coffee, so I have had hot drinks and television for the afternoon and evening. I have got very little work done.
The road here is permit parking, but the landlord showed me some parking by the railway wall for the Passat. I am very grateful to my friends for letting me take the Passat touring, and I am looking forward to tomorrow's day of genuine driving holiday before I sadly depart homewards, which will be a lot of travelling. I will only have a day to recover before I return to work and then confuse my body and mind with the London run.
And, here's an unusual one for the London run, I am probably taking Max, and there are reasons for that, but just as I can't tell you where I am tonight until I have finished my journeys tomorrow, I can't tell you why, for my safety, the police seige of my home for the church the other year was the ultimate lesson in how I will never be safe but I have to try my best.

Anyway, just to make me more tired, I have the farm for a week after the London run, I am wondering, the tiredness won't relent, when I was younger some of you may remember, the doctors muttered about CFC, M.E. or fibromyalgia, and I wonder if it has returned, or if this is just my mind and body giving up under the weight of the church's destruction of me and the struggle to work and live with a broken spine and all the other things.
God how gloomy all of that is, I don't waste thoughts on these things.

It was quiet here at the B&B until recently, you know what B&Bs are like, especially on weekend nights, people come in late and bang doors.

Anyway, it has been lovely to see trains, freight trains, and to drive fast roads. If tomorrow goes well then it will have been an almost ideal holiday despite my lack of spending money.


Hey peeps.

Well I don't have to say goodbye to the Passat yet. My friends are back, and I had done the shopping and housework, and now I am borrowing the Passat to do a day or two of scenic touring, staying in a bed and breakfast, and then I will be heading home.

It has been a pleasant week despite the trauma and the limitations that disability put. It has been nice to have a holiday structured by looking after the house and cat for my friends, and with the use of the car.

All I have to do now is pack my things, and I can head off any time and enjoy exploring some scenic routes as planned. I may go to the bed and breakfast first and get some work done, and then start my touring.

Thursday 7 June 2018


Good evening peeps,

Noswaith dda,


Well I finished my main sightseeing today.
I did sleep through the night, thanks to the exciting day yesterday. I woke with little pain or trauma, especially as I got up quickly and early.

I wanted a castle on my list of trips, but choosing a castle was hard work, the Welsh got a bit carried away with building castles.

It is funny seeing Wales as a tourist, and much better than living and working here was. It is nice to smell the mountains instead of the harsh salt-swept sea air that I do love in it's own way.

So anyway, last night I made a desperate stab at the map and chose Chepstow Castle.
Those who don't know the real me, I have been doing photo shoots and writeups of attractions and local interest places since I moved to Jersey, but back then it was a bit aimless and wobbly, and more recently it has become part of my training as a writer, and I send my writeups with photos to the attractions as feedback afterwards, so I overcome my agorophobia and autism by assessing the whole site busily and taking pictures and discussing what I see and experience, it is very rewarding.
I have always had an interest in history, archaeology and architecture, although I still can't fit anything into categories, but I enjoy having the interests without any strong knowledge.

I don't usually post writeups on here due to the location risk that remains from the church, police, journalists and cranks, but I feel that it safe to discuss Wales.

Anyway, Chepstow Castle is medieval, which means dead old, even older than the other castle I did a while back. It is a fairly big castle, but far from the biggest in Wales, and it is on the banks of the Wye. The castle's boast is that it has the oldest doors in the country at 800 years old.

What I will do again is do another blog with the photography, when I have time, the same as when I do the coal face pictures as a blog.

Chepstow Castle has a relatively low entrance fee, which makes it more attractive, it is also close to a few other attractions, these are some of the reasons I chose it, in desperation.

Finding my way through the town was tricky, I kept wandering in and out of England, and I arrived, I went to get a parking ticket, surprisingly reasonable cost compared to what we are used to, the only problem was, I was driving the Passat, and had parked it in a corner and walked to the ticket machine, and the machine asked for the car registration! Ha, I didn't know the Passat's registration. Back I went, got the reg, and then still struggled with the machine. I got it in the end.
Then I went and had a quick look in the tourist centre. I decided to go to the museum over the road before I went to castle.

The museum was OK, not remarkable, but not bad. They had a lot of stuff from the last century, so not that old, and some Victorian stuff too. The Victorian stuff was interesting, they had mangles, dollys and washboards. I liked the model steam engine on the landing. Downstairs they had a place where you could listen to and watch TV adverts from the 60s, which were funny. They did have some good stuff like coins and art and grandfather clocks, and a massive gramaphone. It wasn't the most wonderful museum, but it was OK.

So, I trotted up to the castle, and the staff were very nice to me, and I got my ticket and scuttled in with my camera and got on with my review.

Ooh, the views of the Wye from the castle wall were pretty lovely, it is a pity that the Wye and the Usk are so muddy, maybe I have been away so long that I forgot muddy rivers. At one point the castle and cliff go up very sheer from the river, and it made for great pictures.

I went down to the cellars and admired them, and wandered around what used to be the kitchen, and out into a tower. There were loads of children trying to do documentaries for their school project, and they were embarrassed by me wandering past and they fluffed their lines. I just wanted to get my pictures without disturbing them.

I continued on the castle walls, up to the towers at the end, there is a huge building called the Great Hall or Great Tower, and it is huge, you can go inside it too, and I did. I continued the castle walls to the towers at the far end and continued to take pictures.

Apart from the children, it was relatively quiet and I wasn't crowded at all. I went back, via everything, to the towers at the car park end, now those are intricate and lavish, they were designed by the Earl for guest accommodation if the King wished to visit. The children were being given archery lessons on the green open space as I left.

I had climbed many steps and I was exhausted, so that was the end of my tour, and it was all lovely. They are the only attraction I have visited this year that don't really have a cafe or substantial refreshments, so now I headed into town. I had hoped to  head on to Tintern Abbey, seeing as it was nearby, but despite stopping in town for food and drink, my exhaustion remained, and I knew I couldn't cope with the Abbey as well, it is frustrating being disabled this way.

So I took to heading home.

I forget that the Passat isn't Max, so I still say 'Go Max!', but Max never needed me to say that, it was a habit from Florence, Florence was an old lady, she didn't like hills, so me and mum used to go 'Go Flo!' when we went up big hills. But the Passat is a big powerful diesel, it doesn't need encouragement.

Out of Chepstow there were many miles of road cones, which was keeping the speed down as the workforce worked on the barrier, the road signs forgot to tell anyone in English what they were doing, so I helpfully translated it for you.

arafu, gwaith ffordd.

Slow down, roadworks.

The Welsh crack up at my use of the language. My cousins were lucky to grow up in Wales, fully bilingual, but I didn't live in Wales until I was a teenager and I took my Welsh certs as an adult.

I got home this afternoon and my sightseeing is pretty much over now. I don't intend to drive the Passat again, although I have really enjoyed myself. The huge endless Welsh roads always have my affection, I would love to go on driving them, and the M4, driving this big car. Because where I live, little car Max doesn't know what a motorway is, and in our insular space, the fastest Max knows is the dual carriageway on the avenue or the five mile road when the grockles aren't slowing us down. I miss the fast driving of the UK, and I can still drive fast and drive on motorways without any trouble, so it has been a delight. I will be back, I can't come and live here just because I love the roads and the freedom. I will be back and I will visit Tintern Abbey or other places next time.

This morning I put a load of laundry on, and when I got back, I hung it out and put a few of my friends' towels and things on to wash too, my friend had a big order that was only just finished in time, so they were in such a scramble for their holiday that they left towels waiting for a wash. And I include tidying and cleaning in my house sitting.

My friends were originally due to be away for the full week, but then they had to change plans because of work and bookings, and then they now have to return the camper that they hired tomorrow morning, so they will be home by lunchtime tomorrow, and then we are going to visit the last attraction that I wanted to go to, because one of them wants to see it too. At least they got a short break, they needed that, and the cat has been fine, I have got her medicine into her every day and looked after her, and she is happy enough, purring and things.

Tomorrow I will walk into town, it is a very short walk, but I don't need to drive anywhere, I am now back in my office as a freelance writer, and I will earn my living for the remainder of the week. This is why it will be a good career when it takes off, I can work anywhere, so being homeless won't matter.

Wednesday 6 June 2018


Good evening peeps,

I am in my office. I completed an article, did some reviews, and am mooching through various work.

The day started badly because I wasn't deeply asleep and I was in pain, so I suffered trauma about the church of england and police all night. Eventually I had done the chores here and I went out.

I had planned to go to Cardiff, it was a nice enough drive, despite the amount of speed cameras on the way and in Cardiff. I don't speed, but I am not so good at gauging the speeds with an unfamiliar car and road, I didn't speed, my satnav makes a rude noise if I almost go over the speed limit.

When I was at Cardiff I started feeling tired and ill, so I stopped for a cuppa and some food, and tried to gather myself together. I decided eventually to do a change of plan and go to the place that I most wanted to visit, which wasn't in Cardiff, it was at Blaenavon.

The drive was nice, and the adventure was epic. I went to the Big Pit, Wales's National Coal Museum, which has been the long anticipated highlight of my holiday.

So, I went down a coal mine.

There are huddle of attractions at Blaenavon, including a working steam railway that was unfortunately not running today, those who know me know I am a great fan of trains, especially steam trains, I am not a fan of bad train services like the one that I came to Wales on. But anyway, there is also an ironworks centre and a heritage centre, but I didn't have time for those today, and I didn't mind, the pit was what I really wanted to see first of all. Maybe next time for the rest of it.

I went into the visitor centre to ask them to for change for parking, and they were very kind and helpful, the Pit is amazingly free, but parking is a few pounds.

I did the parking and then they gave me a ticket to go down the mine, they told me it was a bit busy and noisy in the waiting room but I should go and wait and a guide would come.
The waiting room was full of language school children, so it was a bit noisy, but they were under control, unlike the ones back home.
I waited at the back as guides came up every 10 minutes to take groups, and I moved forward each time a group went, a German couple joined me, and they were a bit daunted by the children too, but they and I were put together as a separate group, just three of us, and we were issued safety equipment, a hat, a lamp, a safety mask in a tin. We had to wear the hats and lamps but the masks went on a belt.

No phones, car keys or cameras are allowed in mines due to the risk of sparks. So we left our things in a locker, and boarded the lift. The lift went down 300 feet, which is a long way in the dark, with water dripping down the lift shaft. It's a right head rush.

At the bottom, we went into the mining tunnels, some of them are very low, sinking into the ground despite the supports, we found some of the coal trucks, and we were shown how the alarm system alongside the tunnel used to work, just by pressing wires together, before the massive tragedy caused by wire sparking led to a different system being used, we were given so many dates and figures for things, but what I remember is that the mine was opened in 1860, and there was a previous mine on the site in 1840.

The mine has white gas, which is dangerous and is cleared out each day with ventilators. We got to to see the machinery, the massive winching machinery. And then we continued into the low tunnels. It was a lot about bending over to avoid hitting your head, and it was pressure on my spine and lungs but not too much. The floor was wet and there were tracks for the coal trucks.

We were told about the circulation of good and foul air up and down shafts and through tunnels,  and there was a door to deflect the good air, but the door had to be opened to let the horses through, so they used to tie a six year old boy to the door, with a candle, so he would open and close the doors to let the horses in and out, he was tied to the door because it was easy for the candle to go out, and they couldn't afford to lose the door.
Can you imagine a six year old down there in the dark, tied to a door in the cold air and dark? And at great risk of death as he let the horses through.

Anyway, we went on, to the horse stables, they used Welsh Cobs, which are relatively large compared to what you would expect, Dartmoor or Exmoor ponies and the like, I struggle to imagine a Welsh Cob in a mine. They had up to 70 horses down there, in stables cut into the mine. The horses were tended by young boys aged about 7 to 11. The life expectancy of boys working in the mine was 17 years or so. The men who worked in the mines came into the mines to work when they were fully grown, but the children came in when they were six, and didn't live long. Women worked in the mines as well, until Queen Victoria had a commission carried out, and had a law passed forbidding women and children to work in the mine.

We continued through the dripping wet, dark and dank mine tunnels, learning more about the tunnels, the carriages that are still there, still full of coal. And we went to the coal face. The coal face used to be extremely dangerous, dug out by hand as rocks fell, until a lethal machine like a giant chainsaw was invented, and it ran up and down the coal face and cut the coal out, the coal then went on a belt that ran it down to the waiting trucks, and they were then moved out by horse or motor.

The mine tunnels run 10 miles underground, into the hills that I will post some pictures of on the next blog. I will do this blog seperate from the pictures as it is all such heavy stuff. I have no pictures of underground as it is illegal, as I said.

The guide is an ex miner, and he was telling us about the use of candles and how dangerous it was in a mine, and he explained that inventions had been made to make it safer, he showed us something and asked if we knew what it was, and I did.

'It's a Davey Lamp!'

The visit to the coal pit touched my roots and ancestry, of course I grew up by a different coalfield, even if this one looks so similar, and my Dad worked at the mine, but in the office. The pub down the road was called 'The Davey Lamp' because we were on the coalfield, where there was mining. I used love our walks up to the snibby, to see the coal trucks, I was really scared of trains back then but I loved them all the same.
It felt so strange to be kind of going back to my roots.

It was real special to see a Davey Lamp, and have it explained, it was like fitting a piece in the puzzle of my roots, the davey lamp gauges the amount of methane underground and tells miners how safe it is, as well as providing them with light. They did also use canaries, but usually after a methane explosion, and the canary is more susceptible to methane and dies before the danger to the miners becomes serious.

It was funny that the guy kept speaking to me as if I was Welsh as well, I am English Welsh, my accent is Queens English with a little cider. I am usually rude in Welsh, but not out of disrespect for the Welsh Welsh.

Anyway, that was it, we put our lamps out and went back up the shaft in pitch black, to watch the light grow as we went up. But in the pit, without light, your eyes don't adjust to the dark as they do in open air, it is pitch black. I got to meet the canaries when I went to take my lamp back.

That was the experience of a lifetime, I always wanted to do that.

After that I enjoyed scrambling round the machinery and artifacts, one of the museum displays was closed, but I went in the other and made the most of it, a great photo shoot. I saw the miners' baths and lockers, and a huge amount of artifacts and video demonstrations, it was fun.
I got some pictures of the hills of the coal field as well. It was too late in the day to visit the other local attractions, and I was really tired, absolutely drained, so I thanked everyone for making that experience of a lifetime so special for me, and I headed home.

At home I have been doing housework and working, and looking after the cat, and idly watching television.

You know what's funny? At home I watch Are you being Served DVDs on repeat, and that is my calming, soothing, safety thing, and here I am in Wales, and when I turn the TV on, the same Are you being Served series is on television. I didn't bring any DVDs with me. I have Amazon and Netflix, but Are you being Served isn't on either.

It has been another cool day, but more sunny, pleasant. I had a lovely Chinese meal for supper, because I am on holiday.


Good morning peeps,

I had a lot of trauma in the night about the unresolved injustice of my case.
And I woke up with my spine hurting. I am sleeping in my friends' bed but it doesn't support the broken part of my spine very well.

I have just about sorted the cat out, although she would like some peanut butter on toast as well. She is telling me so.

I am going to look at castles and mines today, so that will keep me occupied.

That's a spare mountain, the mountains aren't very exciting until you get to Norf Wales.
I am loving the smell of the mountains, I missed it, but when I breathe in deep, these awful chest pains are worse.

Last year I came to Wales briefly, to help someone, but I don't think I documented that on the blog, although the blog is a snapshot of the real me, to disprove the Church of England's evil vilification of me, sometimes I have discretion to leave things out, sometimes for other people's sakes.