I feel sad and hopeless, nothing I say or do or write will take away what has happened.

I do feel relieved that I seem to have escaped the vindictive church official who went on mercilessly harming me, but I also had to leave my friends and my home county forever.

I am so lost without the library this evening.

I am very short of internet due to the strikes, the library is closed, so I will just briefly blog my day.

Last night the zip broke on my old backpack, so I was very grateful to the kind person who brought me a backpack yesterday. I went into McD's to exchange my stickers for a free cuppa and transfer my things to the new backpack. While I was in there and wishing I could wash my hair and dopy from painkillers and worrying about the bad weather on the way, I made a rash decision to spend some of my scarce money on a night in the bed and breakfast.

I went to the bed and breakfast and booked in, had a nice shower and went to sleep, I dreamed of police and cells and prisons and beatings, but I wasn't distressed when I woke up.

I enjoyed another shower and then headed to church, where I was helping with coffee, all along the way were people on strike handing out leaflets, this is the biggest strike in recent history, I had a lovely time helping with coffee and then went to the mission, I took the blind man's guide dog for a walk, my Grandad was back and gave me a big hug.

The library is closed due to strike. The weather is ok now, cold.

I am going back to the mission in a minute, sorry I have scarce internet access until the strike ends.

The antibiotic that the dentist put in my jaw is really helping, I feel so much better already.

I just went to the dentist. Despite having been made ill by overanesthatisation by a dentist when I was younger, and having teeth needlessly extracted when I was a young adult, I am not really scared of dentists.

The dentist x-rayed my jaw, and it is wisdom tooth causing the problem, and it is the one that can't be removed. The dentist put some antibiotic stuff directly in the abcess and put a pad in my mouth to keep it there, I have to bite on this pad for 20 minutes and the antibiotic will stay there for a few days, I have to see the dentist for a review next week, but this is likely to be a recurring problem.

Dentists and doctors don't scare me, what does? Police, ambulances, Benefits offices and shopping.

Shopping is one of my worst things, when I go shopping I go because I need to, and I find it scary, so i talk to myself, the more scared I am the more autistic I am and the more I talk to myself.
It seems that when I go into a charity shop to look for clothes, especially in this county, people come and get between me and the door or stand and block the way so that I am trapped in a corner. I can't bear to be trapped, and the other thing that people do, especially in this county and city is that they play dodgems, if they can crash into you then they will, and my dislike of touch turns into terror of being barged into and shock if I am barged into.

so when I go shopping the other shoppers are treated to the spectacle of a tasmanian devil type person tearing through the aisles in the hope of grabbing the necessary things and escaping, muttering all the way.

'IhateshoppingwhymustIshopwhereisadecentpairofjeanswillthistopfitmewhyiseveryonetryingtobumpintomeHOWCANATOPBETHISCOLOUR?!wellitdoesn'tsuitmeanywayTHATSTOOEXPENSIVE!letmeoutofhereIneedair!IhateshoppingIhateshopping!.

Thats me shopping if you ever see a person like that and wonder if they are mad, no, I am technically not mad, just unable to cope with shopping, and the more nervous I am the more I mutter.

:)

more wastes of blogging time. I went to the daycentre for my cup of tea and chill out time, but I was feeling more ill. I realised that if my gum infection was not responding the anti inflammatories and strong painkillers then it would probably need anti-biotics, so I went to the walk in centre, a long wait in a waiting room full of screaming children is my idea of hell. I got to see the nurse at last and she was very thorough, she said that my gum was very inflamed and so was my throat and my face was swollen (I hadn't noticed that), she said that possibly it was one of my remaining wisdom teeth or a bit of root that was left causing the infection. She prescribed lethal strength anti-biotics and said that it was the infection that was making me dizzy and nauseous.
I am a bit intimidated by being on these anti-biotics at the same time as being on the painkillers and anti-inflammatories.
The nurse told me to see the dentist to check that there was no root or anything left causing the problem.

I went to the chemist and they said there was a muddle on the prescription about how many tablets I should have, they phoned the doctor as I sat there feeling dizzy, and they sorted it out.

I went to the market, my friend on the tea stall gave me a free tea, and I got some food to take an anti-biotic with, then I went to the dentist and explained things, they told me to come back in an hour so that they can check the gum.
I have just come into the library and something in the gum burst, there must have been an abcess, I went to the toilet and mopped the blood out. I am still going to the dentist to ensure that all is well, otherwise it will be my fault if it continues to be a problem.
I am still dizzy and sweaty. Being unwell or injured when you are homeless is always uncomfortable.

As I continue to write the blog and get feedback, I find more and more that I am not alone, I know now that I am not the only one to be called bad names and labelled, I am not the only one to be damaged by being maligned in the church grapevine, not the only one who had problems seeing the abuser wherever they went, not the only one to be called a scrounger and wrongly accused, not the only one to be vulnerable because of family problems and thus left open to abuse, and not the only one who has suffered well off church people making me feel small and worthless and telling me that myself and my reactions are to blame, I am not the only one to have suffered homelessness as a result of abuse, and I am not the only one to be subjected to blatant lies at the hands of the church.
Yes, we are all human and sinful, and this is one of many church excuses, but people ordained and 'called' to positions of power in the church should be able to act accordingly and not abuse or behave in a damaging way towards vulnerable people, because in such positions those people don't have an excuse for such extreme sin, indeed it is not excusable in anyone to deliberately inflict such harm.
I hope that that makes sense, I just feel like exploding the church's excuses.

Think about this: The church tried to tell me that my abuser (who had previously been accused of misconduct and sacked from another church) was 'just a Christian who got things wrong'. In contrast other church leaders and clergy called me wicked, malicious and a troublemaker.
This says that the church consider my disability and reactions to the abuse and church attitude to be worse than the abuse, and they have enforced that by preventing me being able to take civil legal action against my abuser while they had me arrested.

I woke up this morning with a sore gum. It is all swollen in the lower jaw and my top teeth bite against the swelling, but since I am on painkillers and anti-inflammatories anyway, I think these will help.

a few hours later I am beginning to wonder if actually I need anti-biotics as the swelling remains painful. Who do I go to? The doctor or the dentist?

I met a nice person recently who was interested in my homelessness and my story. He came up to the library and brought me a rain cape and a spare backpack as mine is falling apart. We went to the library coffee shop and had a cuppa, and he bought me a slice of the nice cake that I always look at longingly when I sneak in to the coffee shop to borrow their toilets.
It seems like friendly people are springing up everywhere.

Here I am back in the library but I feel dizzy and shaky, it can't be hypoglycemia, I have just had a huge slice of cake, it isn't cold or tiredness, what is wrong? Is it this inflamed gum? maybe I am teething? I am sure my wisdom teeth on that side were taken out, am I mistaken? Is that the side where they lost the x-ray or it was too close to the nerve and they had to leave it?

When I left the libray last night I went to McD's and spent my vouchers and stickers on food and a cup of tea, then I went to the Samaritans, which was helpful, I wasn't feeling too bad, but I thought I would go anyway because I had been writing so much about the past and I thought I might need to talk rather than be alone with my thoughts.

Then I went to soup kitchen, which was crowded and busy, everyone pushing and shoving. I stayed at the back of soup kitchen and I got enough tea and sandwiches and cake. My big issue friend is happy, he was not completely sober but he was telling me about a girl he was 'looking after', she was there as well, he was supposed to walk her home though and he was too busy talking to me about a book and didn't notice when she took off and started walking without him.

Scotty was there, I rarely see him these days, he is growing his hair so I almost didn't recognise him, he is now in a flatshare and very happy, I was pleased to hear that. He told me where to find the church that has a sheltered porch, so I will be going to have a look at that soon.
I was approached by the housing and welfare team who have caused me so much problem, I told them very firmly to leave me alone.
As I was leaving soup kitchen, V. came running up, he showed me cuts and grazes and told me he had been in a fight with a bloke with a knife who had tried to rape his friend's 13 year old sister, he said that the fight ended when he threw the guy off a bridge and he ended up in hospital, good Lord! He never fails to surprise me but this is all a bit extreme, I tell him that I am glad he is alright,he is grinning as usual but he tells me his blood is boiling and if the guy wasn't at hospital he would beat him up all over again!

It is raining lightly and the sky is cloudy, I worry as I walk back to my sleeping place, I don't want me and my bedding to get soaked.
I tuck down and hope for the best.
I wake up in the early hours, it isn't raining now and there are only a few hours to go until morning, so I go to the toilet and fall asleep again.

I wake up to find that I have overslept a bit, my alarm is not working! I hurriedly scramble out and am nearly caught by nearby flat dwellers :(

I go to the market for tea hour, they cheerfully tell me that torrential rain is on the way, I must go and look at the church where Scotty used to sleep.
The man at the tea stall gets me to spin my 50p tea money on the counter, he says 'heads' but it is tails so he lets me have my tea for free. They are nice people.

I have a wash and change my socks and then it is library time.

Does all this make you conclude that I hate the church? I don't, otherwise I wouldn't try to worship each week. I hate the church's policies and actions and the discrepancy between the way Jesus was and the way the church are, in the case of abuse and the church reaction there is no sign of Christianity, and 'we are all human' is not an adequate excuse.

Am I obsessed with this matter? I don't know, I do know that the way that the church have treated me continues to affect me badly, I am crippled by it, I am traumatised by it, and the repercussions are endless, if I go on living I will be affected for the rest of my life, and I am extremely vulnerable on the streets with the bad record that the church gave me, but I cannot leave the streets for the same reasons.
All I have to do in my life is try to share my story and help other solitary survivors know that they are not alone as I try to write what I cannot verbalise and can hardly write, the church were able to use my lack of verbalisation against me as they accused and damaged me and brought false charges against me and tried to make me out to be mad.

Basically as well as being unable to verbalise all this I am at a disadvantage when it comes to representation because no one actually dares to take on the church and their disclaimers and lawyers and press departments, the church are power heavy, which is crazy considering that they originate from belief and following of Jesus, who never ever instructed or set an example of unjust wealthy power heavy priests and organizations. I hope that makes sense.

Every day my day starts with anxiety and bad memories, and if I wake in the night it is the same, I dream of the brutality of the police who the church set on me, the injustice and the lockings up and being unable to defend myself.
I live in fear of being involved in any of the violence and crime that my fellow homeless are soemtimes involved in, or being sexually assaulted or suffering anything, because I don't want to have to go to the police or have the police looking up the lies of the church on record and being brutal and unfair to me if I am unwittingly caught up in an incident.

That incident the other week was a very frightening one, to be accused of something and assaulted, I really and truly thought that I was going to be brutalised and locked up, but it wasn't the church wrongly accusing me and there was no proof (because I hadn't done anything) and the thug who 'tried to do a citizens arrest' was known to the police and had commited assault by his actions, so to my amazement it all turned out right but it shocked me deeply. I will never feel safe again.

I will never be able to work again, and I do not know if I will ever live indoors again, I am sure that my lifespan is reduced because of my lifestyle and I am relieved about that, I have no real reason to live apart from sharing my story. The damage by the church, especially by their lies, is too severe, and no amount of counselling or medicine will change that.

church abuse investigations

The painkillers are making me too sleepy, this is not good for a homeless person, I have been taking the lowest dose possible, and they do work, but I think I will stop taking the strong ones and just take the anti-inflammatory ones and hope the doctor agrees to the dreaded injections that will help me to walk without any tablets.

On Facebook I have access to a survivors organisation, and at one point someone started a facebook campaign to get rid of the survivors organization, they were very unsuccesful, but it shows just how much ill feeling there can be with regards to abuse matters, people don't want to hear about clergy abuse, they want to hide and say everything is ok, that everything is ok in their church or that they haven't done anything wrong and don't want to acknowlege the consequences of any abuse they have inflicted, this is why it surprises me that no-one has yet tried to remove my blog or any of the posts.

The more I hear of the church the more I wonder what on earth the future of the world is when people go into the church to escape the evil of the world and be safe and in church the evil is very much present but disguised, sanctioned, excused and covered up in a way that it isn't in any other organisation or place in the world, the church have complete policy systems and laws to cover up and to protect the church from liability, these laws also protect the abusers, but the victims are the people who are not protected or helped or acknowledged except in a certain way that is also done to protect the church.
The unheard scream is 'where is Jesus in all this', and if the church should chance to hear this scream they respond with finger wagging lectures about 'forgiveness' and reproaches, as if that is any sort of answer.
when are things going to change? My wish, and my dying wish if I don't survive the way the church have crippled me and left me invalidated as a person is that the church should lose their right to be exclusive, that they are audited on abuse cases and misconducts by organizations outside the church, they will scream about that being unfair because of prejudice and secular organizations being against them, but isn't it better for this destroyal of lives by the church systems to stop? To me a human life is the most valuable thing on this earth, and a vulnerable life should be protected, but the church, who are supposedly following Christ, place no value at all on a vulnerable human life when it comes to the matter of abuse and the issue of the church protecting themselves against scandal.
Isn't it time that the church are no longer immune from legal actiions due to their status, and are no longer treated as being truthful and righteous when they are not being, time they were no longer allowed to be such a big voice that they drown out the smaller voices of abuse victims who try to stand up to them?
I want to see all this change, I want victims to no longer be shamed into silence, and the church that is part of the government in this country should be held to account just as other government departments supposedly would be if their staff had hundreds of abuse and misconduct allegations made against them every month, and especially as the church themselves are not actually practicing what they preach each week, are not following Christ's teachings, Christ Himself was homeless, poor, wounded by the church of the day, He didn't live in a palace and have servants and a big salary. The church will cry out that secular intervention would be 'prejudiced' and 'damaging to the faith', but that is indeed what their own policies and procedures towards abuse are anyway.

I will continue this another time. I am sleepy.

I just wandered off again, anything rather than write about the overwhelming horror of the church and what has happened to me.

I went to a place where someone said I should go, a community attached to a well known church, I was told that there was a nun there who might be able to help if I needed showers and things.

I went there and there were two old ladies folding newsletters and preparing them to be sent, they were unwilling to look at me let alone speak to me, so I decided that no one in a place like that was going to help me, I made a mention in the visitor book of what I thought, this place is supposed to be famous and a place that pilgrims come to, I renamed it as a moneyspinner for the church. How unchristian of me! But it is, it is a gift shop and cafe and tourist attraction, and the people who I spoke to who were on duty wanted to turn me out, there was no Christianity there when they heard that I was homeless and had been sent to find someone who worked there.

Sometimes I feel like saying that church is the last place where you will find Christianity, but that is not entirely true, so I wont say it.

I went back into town and wandered around, I went and bought some underwear, that money I was given last night has come in handy for underwear and jeans.

I went past one of the big issue sellers, he wanted to stop and chat, he asked where I was living and said something very cheeky but relevant when I told him I lived in the hedge, I wont repeat what he said as it can come across as offensive.

I feel as if I am coming accross as a bit stroppy and muddled, sorry.

I am determined to do some more writing about the past shortly, the library has some rather stroppy people in at the moment, I may see if I can move to the quiet room in a minute.

The account of a fellow survivor

Not long before I started blogging I was alone, I had no support, even the clergy abuse charity in England turned me away saying that they weren't willing to help me while I was homeless. I was completely alone. I tried so very hard to get help and support, and because of what the church had been able to do to my records and how they had been able to get their point across and silence me, I was scared to even make new friends, indeed when I did inadvertantly make new friends, the church's influence did cause anguish and break ups.

In the past few months I finally seem to have escaped the church somewhat and have built up a support network and made friends with fellow survivors through survivors groups and also through churches that have not been influenced by 'the church', I have also got to know and make friends with other survivors through my blog, including a fellow survivor who's story has a number of things in common with mine: She is disabled, was abused in her family and disbelieved, was vulnerable to clergy abuse and church based abuse and shunning, and spent some time homeless as a result of these things, her story also shows how church and clergy networks do work against abuse victims and vulnerable people and isolate and shame them, just as they did in my story.
This is my friend's story, told in her own words and unedited apart from me paragraphing it and bold highlighting it:

I will share my story, I actually have two regarding abuse by churches, one of a sexual abuse by the 1st church I ever attended & one of theft & being chased out of my home town by another church. I'll start with the former because it happened 1st & will share both for you to blog.
 
To begin to tell you about the first church abuse, I need to give you
a little background info: I was sexually abused by my father from
3years old to about 9 years old & one of my brothers as a young
teenager & I had tried to get help through child protective services
for the abuse by my brother but my family kept lying & were being
believed over me, & I was the one who kept getting in trouble with the
police for running away.

Finally I came to my pastor at my grandparents church. I told him what was going on & how no matter how I tried to get help no one could help. I was about 13 years old at this time.

He started off by having private prayer sessions, all very normal. Then he
started to pick me up & bring me to help him tidy up the church on
saturday before sunday services, which also seemed very normal & I was
happy to be away from my house.

Then he started paying me for my cleaning services, at first with money. then a few weeks later he said he could no longer pay me in cash. He began to pay me in marijuana. I had tried this drug before, most of my family were drug addicts & alcoholics & had always found it amusing to force me to get high or
drunk when I was a child.

 But I willingly smoked with the pastor. for a while thats all that happened, but then slowly he bagan to become more & more affectionate after we would smoke.

 It started with holding my hand, then kissing me on the cheek & hugging me for a long time. Then it progressed to kissing on the lips. I was frightened by it, I didnt like it, but I felt afraid to try & stop him, felt like if I did I
would only experience what I had before with my family but 1,000 times
worse because he was so well respected, so important.

He began trying to forse me to perform oral sex on him. finally I stopped coming to
church, began running away on saturdays before the pastor could come,
or taking medications that cause stomach sickness so that I would be
too sick to come to church or help clean.

Finally my grandmother confronted me about why i wouldnt come to church, & when I told her the truth she beat me with her shoe & called me horrible names & told me I was going to burn in Hell & that I was never to step foot near their church again.

 I later found out another girl had accused the pastor of
the same thing & got death threats & finally moved. the pastor died of
a brain tumor in 2009.
 
the second form of abuse occured at a completely differnt
denomination of church. It was a very rich congregation, everyone wore
expensive clothes & drove fancy cars & bragged all the time. at 1st the
people seemed to be acting kindly to me, giving me thier "old" clothes
from last season to wear & occationally giveing me rides to dr
appointments, the store, the welfare office.

I tried to become close to a girl that was a few years older than me but I grew tired of her not only insulting me constantly but saying horrible things about others, even calling an 80 year old woman a "whore" for wearing bright red
lipstick. I distanced myself from her, & this was the begining of the
end. She ran around telling everyone that I was a prostitute & that I
had stolen money out of her car.

without ever talking to me, most of the congregation began to shun me. there were only a few people who didnt, a woman I'll call H, a woman I'll call E, & a woman I'll call A.

Now these woman new I was for the most part homeless, & would again
occationally give me rides or once & a while let me sleep in their
garages on very cold nights. I was greatful.

One day A invited me to help her clean another church goers home for $60. I desperately needed the money & was thrilled. I was ready to be picked up by her on time, did everything asked of me, & cleaned with the best of my ability & she gave me $70 dollars & bought me lunch. I was thrilled.

 but then the next sunday I found out it had all been a ploy to further smear my name.

She told the woman who's house I had cleaned that she had to keep
checking my pockets because I was stealing things & she told everyone I
had shown up drunk & refused to do hardly any work & had then demanded
an extra $10 dollars & dinner. I was shocked at her cruelty.

Then came the worst of it: H invited me to live with her. She thought I was
already reciving government assisstance for my disabilities, but I
wasnt I had been denied.

She wouldnt even let me take a shower she began driving me to the social security office & welfare. She thought it would be a matter of a week or 2 before I'd be reciving $1,500 a month.

 While I was there I cleaned her house, was extremly conservative
on electricty, food, ect. tried everyway to repay her kindness
including shareing what little food I got from the food bank every
couple weeks.

Once she found out that it would take years to recieve a
determination for the $1,500 & that all I was going to recieve a month
until then was $100 dollars in foodstamps, she waited unti I went out &
when I came back all her doors were locked. I knocked & knocked
thinking it was all acidental until a police car showed up.

He threw me to the ground & talked to her through the door. She told him I was threatening her & that I had destroyed her house looking for money. He
asked if she wanted me arested & after a long pause she told him no,
just escort me off her property. I asked if I could atleast have my
coat & my cell phone, it was below zero out & the middle of winter &
all I had was a sweater on. she refused to even hand it through the
door.

the police officer chased me out of the neighborhood with his car
after calling me a slew of horrible names. I walked to E's house but
she had already spoken on the phone with H & told me she'd called the
pastor & that I was in serious trouble & I needed to get away from her.
I fianlly got into a shelter & somehow the pastor found me & came &
told me that I was not only shunned from the church & could never
return but that I was nolonger a servant of God.

 I had no where else to go & finally my fiance let me move in with him in Columbus where I live
now. because we were not married, we had been avoiding moving in at all
costs. some how the pastor found out where I was, called my fiance &
told him if he didnt throw me out he would also nolonger be able to
serve God. Of couse my fiance is now my husband & refused, but my old
pastor got in contact with his bible teacher, & I am now also shunned
by My husbands church.

H ended up stealing my identity & opening 100's
of credit cards in my name.

trouser hunting and the rudeman

I went to the daycentre earlier and had a number of cups of tea, I like to sit there and drink tea and read and just unwind, time out from trying to write the blog. There is a book there by Peter Kay my favourite comedian (because he is clean and still very funny). So I sit and read that most days, even though I know it well.
As I went out of the daycentre, 'Rudeman' said hello to me and wanted to talk, with no sarcasm, very unusual for Rudeman.

Rudeman used to always poke fun and sarcasm at me as I came and went, he used to make me feel small, but I took to verbally clouting him in return and calling him 'rude man' to his face, he became nicer and I found out one day that he is actually a titled gentleman who owns land and a big house and the rest of it and has a long history of helping homeless people. Rudeman stopped being rude recently but I still expected him to be rude.
So this morning when he said hello, I stopped and waited, he asked if I wanted a cup of tea, I told him I had had so much tea already that I would be swimming. He told me that he had taken in a homeless girl for Christmas, I said that was good, he said I probably knew her and that she looked like me, I puzzled over that because none of the homeless people in this town really look like me, in other towns I have a number of doubles but the only one in this town that remotely resembles me is a drug addict who doesn't wear glasses as he says this one does. No, I don't know who he means but he tells me that he has taken her in until at least after Christmas, then he adds 'I could take another one in too...'

I am speechless for a second, then I just say that I am glad he has helped that other girl, then I tell him I have to go shopping for trousers as mine are so worn at the seams that they will be indecent soon, holes are developing. He tells me to try the salvation army.

I search round town and all the charity shops for a decent pair of jeans that will fit, and right at the last shop there is a pair that will fit and look ok and they are a reasonable price. :)

I return to my blogging via the market and another cup of tea. It is cold today.

The children are having a Christmas craft fair near the library.

Hello, please excuse my 'letting off steam' post yesterday, I have been asked not to delete it, so I am thinking about that. These days I always feel like answering back when I go to church.

yesterday wasn't too bad for a Sunday, I was able to get some internet access intermittently and despite the immigrants. I did some reading as well. And when the library closed, I went for a walk around, I got my pain meds and started taking them, they do help but they take energy as well, so I am going to see if the doctor agrees to cortizone injections instead, (ouch!).

I went looking for a decent evening church and wandered into quite a decent sized church, I was welcomed and made welcome, several people introducted themselves and told me about the church, one woman came and sat with me and told me what she knew of homeless services in the town, I told her I knew about the homeless services but that trying to house me wasn't going to work at the moment, she understood that, she offered me some money and I told her she shouldn't give money to homeless people, she said she knew that but that she felt that she should, she took me through for coffee after the service and I was surprised at how everyone was friendly and wanted to say hello.

TThe other service itself was good, and another thing that warmed my heart was that someone gave a brief talk on 'Stop the traffik' (my favourite charity) and human trafficking. People don't realise that human trafficking is a huge problem because it is more profitable and less risky than drug trafficking, and vulnerable people from poor countries are duped into becoming slaves by offers of well paid jobs in wealthier countries, and when they get there they have their papers taken away and they are imprisoned as slaves for unpaid labour or in the sex trade. I have no money to support Stop the Traffik and the work they do to prevent slavery and free slaves, but I support them with my heart.

Anyway, at coffee time I was invited to join the Christian students for a game, the game would have been too physical for me, and another girl who didn't feel up to playing, introduced herself to me and we went outside to talk as it was very noisy and hot in the room where coffee was served, we were joined by someone else and we ended up talking about churches and Stop the Traffik, then me and the girl went back in and she introduced me to her husband. She then invited me to go with her to a pub quiz that her friend was takking part in.

The woman who had given me some money asked if I would like to come and help with teas and coffees for the toddlers service on Wednesday, I said yes, it would be nice to feel useful again.

Me and the girl went to the pub, which was not far away, her friend already had a team of four, which is the maximum, so she and I formed our own team on the spur of the moment, the man asked what our team was called and she hesitated and I said 'Unexpected?' so that became our team name.

We did badly in the first two rounds, it was all American celebrities and presidents and mainly historical not recent, so we struggled and felt too young for the quiz, but by the third round we were improving. The fourth round looked like a geography of Britain round and that looked promising, so we played our joker, and it was a good move, we did well on this round, there aren't many places in Great Britain that I don't know or know of due to my travelling. So we did well on that round and then struggled through a comedy lines round, we did well in the house round and so we survived, we were nowhere near winning but we certainly weren't the losers either. It was fun, it was good for me to be doing something like this again, it took me back to my years in Main Village, where I used to take part in quizzes.

Afterwards the girl and I exchanged phone numbers before parting company, it turned out that she and I had met before a few times without really knowing each other as she worked at the council and did street outreach, but we had never spoken before. She said that we should meet up again sometimes and I said I would definitely be coming back to the church anyway. She is a nice girl.

I hadn't realised it was so late when we left the pub, 11pm, I walked back to town and wished somewhere was open so I could get a cuppa, but nowhere was, it's a small town, not London.
I went back to my sleeping place and bedded down, it was a cold clear night but I bedded down warmly, it was nearly midnight before I was bedded down and fell asleep thinking that at least it was only 6 hours till morning and a cup of tea.
I woke up at 7.30, I had slept comfortably on my side all night and I woke up to a clear cold morning, no frost, just cold, I woke up from sleep worries and unhappiness and anxieties to do with the church, it is hard to get up and move when that happens, but I got up and packed my bedding up and headed for the market toilets, it is so handy having early morning toilets only minutes away, some places have been much more inconvenient. I go to the tea stall for 'tea hour', where I have nothing better to do than stand and listen to the talk. This morning all the news is of a sportsman who commited suicide, he had a wife and family and everything to live for, poor man, something was obviously really upsetting him, no one in the paper tried to say he was mentally ill, as the church have done with me because of my despair and will do if I kill myself.

Anyway, I had a wash and now I am here, trying to gather myself to write more of the painful distressing part of what has happened to me, and knowing that there is so very much of it to write and so much complication.

Before I left London I was told by my homeless gang there that all the immigrants were going to be put on trains and shipped out of London in order to prevent embarassment at the Olympics, at the time that seemed good because I thought I was staying in London and if the immigrants left then it meant that I would be able to get food and clothes and access the daycentres more easily without being hit and shoved and abused when trying to.

Sadly the immigrant shipping seems to be true, here they are, arriving in this town in a steady stream over the past week, it is going to get difficult to get food and hot drinks and clothing from the homeless services and it will be harder to hide to stash things or sleep, and worst of all, it will get difficult to get on the computers in the library, at the moment they are not enough to make a big difference, but already they are competing for computer space and turning up drunk in the library and being chased round the town by th police as they try to beg and busk and steal.
When I arrived here there was one Eastern European, he had been to Cambridge University to study English and was married and settled with one child. Now there are suddenly a dozen immigrants, and considering the fact that London has thousands to get rid of, and they can't stop them flooding into the country and flooding into London, the future looks grim.

Excuse me if that seems prejudiced, but an immigrant in London who hit and shoved me out of my place in the que openly said to me that he didn't give a damn about England as long as he can get what he wants.

letting off steam, this post is not serious and I will delete it but I need to be silly for a few minutes

church? A place where you get a free cuppa if you endure the show, judge each church by the quality and quantity of cuppas.
Only joking.

What to expect when you go to church; Well it depends on the denomination, if you are allergic to incense then you are exempt from several denominations. Sneezing and running eyes will alert you to this. Right, thats two denominations out.
Do you have ADD or ADHD? well there is a nice but stodgy denomination that you really can't attend because you would be too uncomfortable, and they do tend to sit close, you will find this denomination's services too long and involved for your disability, so don't feel guilty about giving church a miss if there are no other churches in your area.

Right, well some people are scared of water and some of loud noise, so if that is you then avoid the other denomination that likes both.

And then there are all those other minor denominations, but don't worry, fear of candles, fear of priests, fear of choking on the Body of Christ, are all legitimate problems, in short, if you find church too scary then don't feel guilty, have a day of rest away from church politics and double standards, God rested on the 7th day, he never went to church, God did not say 'Thou must use a building to play power games and make money in My Name!' His Son went into the temple and trashed the place in protest at such behaviour.

:)

I went to church this morning.

I went in and choked because the incense was so strong, the sun was shining through the windows and the combination of the sun and the incense meant no-one could see a thing, when I passed the cough up bag to the man next to me he couldn't see it for sun and incense - true! he came and apologised afterwards but didn't stop to talk.
Anyway, the service was a mass, and it was a muddled mass because they had decided to change the service and give us an extra sheet to read off, more than confusing for a newcomer, but the newcomer was left bereft of guidance.
The head priest (there were a number of them) announced that the only young married couple in the church were leaving, and he said he was sad and hoped that more young people would join. He gave them a blessing.
The mass was ok, I like mass, it was a tad confusing with the new bits and too much paper, and the incense made me sneeze.
After mass I managed to get through the people who were not being very considerate of each other as they jostled for coffee or to try to join the elite in church politice discussions, I got a coffee and sat down, the priest came and welcomed me and chatted, the sign of a good priest or church, but the only other person who came to talk was an eccentric deaf old lady who said her side of town was fine because they hadn't been bombed, she wasn't very easy to talk to and no one else wanted to talk, there were no seconds of coffee and so I wandered out.

Church is funny invention.

gales

Yesterday I was recovering from a bad nightmare and was in a dissociating mood, I prevented myself from buying a coach ticket with my scarce money and instead I got a ticket to another local town.

The other town was further out than I thought, but I love to be on the move and watch the road go by, as ever I block out the fact that I can no longer drive.
I wander round the town and head back, some already a bit tipsy lads get on the bus and start talking in graphic detail about what they want to do tonight, thankfully they get off at a stop and a load of more respectable partygoers get on .

I get back to town in time for soup kitchen and one of the ladies there does what they do sometimes, starts making a fuss of me because I am a rough sleeping female, I find this uncomfortable, she looks for clothes for me and misguidedly tries to make going indoors and getting on with life seem simple. I let her talk, I get lots of food from soup kitchen, including a wonderful jacket potato.

I go to my sleeping place hoping that the wall will shelter me from the wind, the wind is picking up and is forecast galeforce. I settle down warm and comfortable in my pile of bedding. I sleep and dream that my sleeping place is being invaded by rough drunk young lads, I wake at 4am relieved to find it was a dream, there are drunken revellers heading home occasionally, but no-one comes near me, the wind is galeforce and is roaring in the trees, I go to the toilet and bed back down but I am worried because I sleep under a huge old tree and at 4am all I can think as the tree roars and sways is that my dad told me never to go under a big tree in gale force winds, I have never heard such roaring and all around me the wind picks up the leaves into a leaf storm, despite this I am not cold, and I take my hat and scarf off as I am too warm, I am somewhat sheltered by the wall and the trees but when I lie on my side with my head out of the blankets teh wind whips leaves and dirt into my face.
I lie there and ask my dad and Jesus if I am safe or if I should risk the drunks and go out and look for somewhere else to sleep, I think that I can get up soon anyway, but I also wonder what will happen if I am hit by a falling branch and buried in leaves.
I fall asleep worrying and struggling to keep the bad memories of the church at bay, I sleep through my alarm and am woken by raindrops, I am still warm and comfy but it has started to rain and I am submerged in a leaf pile brought in by the wind. It is 7.45am, time to pack up and go to the market for a cuppa. The market people are in good humour and give me free toast with my tea.

I go looking for a church I have been told about, where apparently the nuns might let me take a shower, but I fail to find it. I am having breathing problems so I throw some inhaler in the direction of my lungs and carry on. Back to the market, then a wash in the toilets and a change of clothes before I come into the library.

I am lucky to be able to lie on the ground and watch a gale battering the trees, it is special.

I am having a bad blog day, I can't write anything.

Last night when I left the library I went out into a freezing cold wet night, more rain was forecast and I was already tired, so I decided to spend some more of my scarce and precious benefit money on another night in the bed and breakfast.
I was tired, I was soon asleep after watching Last of the Summer Wine, but the dreams were not good, I woke in the early hours shaking because of a very vivid and horrible dream about things that have happened, it brough it all back and when you wake up in the dark and you are someone who has prophetic dreams anyway, you can be afraid that the dream will come true.

I phoned the Samaritans and was lucky to get someone who understood and was reassuring, then I looked at the time, it was already 6am but I was tired, so I slept again, I had trouble waking up, it was 9.50am! before I got up! and I had only 10 minutes to get a shower and a cup of tea before checking out. I managed that. As I walked up the road from the bed and breakfast and along the rough nightclub row, there was quite a pool of blood on the ground at one point, and it was blood, not ketchup.

I went to the library but couldn't settle, I went to the daycentre and got a cuppa, the lady who was going to give me a lift to the banquet had decided not to go, so me and someone else were left disappointed with no lift and it not being realistic to try and get there by bus.

Outside the library someone stopped to tell me about a new NHS service for sufferers of depression and anxiety etc, they gave me the details and said I could access it by registering with a doctor. I was going to see about registering with a doctor at the surgery attached to the walk in centre anyway, and I need to see someone about my problems walking and standing as they are getting worse again.
I went up to the medical centre and asked about registering, they gave me the forms and put me in to see a walk in centre nurse about my walking problems, Saturday meant that the waiting room was full of screaming children and casualties from last night's drinking. Stressful.

The nurse examines me and says she will get someone else to give me a prescription in a minute and that I will need to see a doctor and possibly have cortizone injections, she sends me to wait and another nurse calls me and prescribes me strong painkillers and anti-inflammatory stuff, she says that she hopes I can cope with all this and if it makes me too tired then I should cut back and see the doctor.

I go back to the desk to see what is happening about me seeing the doctor, I am told I can have an appointment in a week, a week? I don't know about how it is anywhere else but a week is a long time.

I go back to the daycentre and the food aid is there, after a bit of a distress about talking about the other daycentre and the homeless medical centre she offers me a small food and toiletries parcel.

Here I am unable to write any more of the distressing part of the blog, so it will wait till monday.

well my blog is back, I am happy.
 I went to the market earlier and got a cuppa, my market stall friends gave me a friendly greeting. I hadn't seen them since I came back.

It is cold and clear today, nice, it is too hot in the library but lovely and cold outdoors.
As I walked back up to the daycentre I saw the police pinning the lively immigrant to the ground, there were a lot of police there but just two of them holding him as he grimaced and garbled, it caused me to flashback a bit.
I went to the daycentre and my friend was there, he grinned and stopped to talk, he says that I still have my invitation to the banquet.
I had some refreshments and then returned, the police were putting the immigrant in a van, flashbacks again.

Immigrant has just reappeared in the library being noisy and drinking something.

I nearly lost my blog, I am very relieved that with a bit of help I have recovered it, that was scary! :( I have lost a whole hour recovering my poor bedraggled blog. :( I wish certain people understood about poor people who can't 'upgrade their browsers' and suffer for not being able to.
Here I am blogging again, thanks to kind library staff who sorted it all out.
I am going for a cup of tea in a minute to recover.
:)

As I was leaving the library last night, the punk couple who told me about the takeaway got into the lift, they said they hadn't seen me for a while and asked how I was, I said I was ok and asked how things were with them, they excitedly told me that they are expecting a baby, I congratulated them as that is what people do, and asked if the baby was a good thing, the girl told me she had never been happier, so there we all were, in a lift full of warmth and happiness. They also told me that they are managing to get some furniture, which is good, especially with a baby on the way. Lucky baby, they are such nice people.

It was late night shopping in town, so I wandered round the shops, looked at the prices of thermals for when the weather really gets cold, and then went back to the bed and breakfast.

In the bed and breakfast I rinsed the clothes out that I had washed, and wrung them out and out them on the radiator to dry, having the radiator on is not ideal for me as I will get too hot, but I needed to wash and dry the clothes.

I sort my backpack out and do some hygeine stuff, shaving, cutting nails etc, and I watch a comedy on tv until I fall asleep, I sleep reasonably well, waking sometimes needing the loo or too tense, in the morning I get to have a lie in until 9am, but I am tense and aching because I was too warm in the night, I manage to keep the painful memories at bay.
I have a shower and get dressed and help myself to breakfast and watch silly children's programmes as I eat and sort myself out, I soak my mouthguard in mouthwash and sort out my clothes and things ready to leave. I leave at 10am and go to the daycentre to look for my friend who will know wether or not my ticket for the banquet tomorrow has been cancelled, he isn't there, the lady who was meant to be giving me a lift to the banquet is there and she is feeling low and upset, she is having problems and doesn't even know if she is going. I feel sad about that.

I sit and read and have a cuppa, then I come to the library and stash all my things in a locker, it is relief, I can leave them there all day.

I don't hate you

I was just sitting and thinking about things when V. bounded into the library and shouted hello to me, grinning as he sat at the computer next to me. I asked him if he had helped in any more accidents recently, 'No' he grinned 'But someone put an ice cube down my neck', he pulls an ice cube out of his teeshirt to show me, 'Who did that?' I asked, 'Dunno' he replied and plugged himself into some loud music on headphones. He is such a character, such a sudden and random person, he leaves me puzzling about the ice cube. I like him, he has remained friendly and nice and he doesn't ask anything of me, he doesn't need support, he doesn't need to talk for hours as some homeless people do, he is just friendly, no background motive, and he is fascinating in the way he lives his life, the ice cube is just an example.

Earlier at mission the topic was forgiveness, a hard topic, but the man who is standing in for grandad was telling how he hated his mother for a long time and couldn't bear to be near her, it is always humbling and surprising to hear about people in leadership in church roles who have had such human experiences, but what I realised was that I never consciously hated my parents or bore a grudge against them. I was afraid of them and unwilling to remain caught up in their beliefs and ways of doing things, and even that made me feel disloyal, but I never hated them. I remained very wary of my mum even when I got on ok with my dad and when he was in a coma and my mum's bizarre behaviour escalated, but even when she behaved as she did about my dad, I didn't hate her.

Well today is stress day, giro day, and yes, they have messed things up as usual. I end up spending two hours at the benefits office, and though I finally get my giro, things are still not ok at all, thankfully there is a nice lady in the office who helps me and makes me an appointment with another agency that supports disabled people so that they can help sort out the communication and the problems to do with benefits, because the benefits agency have crazy policies meaning they can't sort things out themselves with this benefit, and I have so much trouble using a phone that there is no way I can sort it out on my own over the phone.

Two hours of extreme stress, it is crazy that they change the rules all the time and don't tell the customers and leave the customers who are disabled in situations like this.
I am just glad that I was able to get a cup of tea and eat yesterday's goody bag for breakfast, otherwise I could have collapsed with stress and hypoglycemia while dealing with the benefits office.

I get my giro and cash it, I am thirsty so I get a cup of tea and a pepsi, then I go down to the mission.
At the mission the man who is standing in for grandad is there, and some of the others, and they make me welcome. The man with the guide dog is there, I tell him about the American couple with the American guide dog, then I take his guide dog for a walk while he has his tea and chat, his dog knows she is off duty when I take her out, so she pulls me all over the place to smell the smells and do weewees, I let her because she deserves it.

I enjoy being at the mission and chatting and drinking tea, but so much of my day has been wasted on the Benefits office and their muddles, so I have to go and try to get some clothes shopping done, I am really annoyed that the benefits office are witholding money I am entitled to because of their own mess ups, I need new clothes, my trousers are wearing so thin that they are almost indecent, my teeshirt is ragged and smelly, I need underwear as well.
The mission is conveniently situated on a road into town that is crammed with charity and secondhand shops, I buy three teeshirts at low prices, some underwear, shower gel and mouthwash.
I walk up and get some food, I haven't really eaten since breakfast and it is now nearly 4pm. I eat the food quickly and hungrily.

I go to the bed and breakfast, the man almost smiles, he lets me have the self contained room and tells me that the tv needs reprogramming and can I do that? I say I can.
The tv works enough for me to watch a kids tv programme that I used to watch - Tracy Beaker.
I put the kettle on and I dunk my shirt, teeshirt and spare bra in the sink and wash them and put them in the shower, then I put myself in the shower and wash and rinse myself and my clothes, I wring the clothes out and leave them to drip and put on my new clothes, I still need new jeans as the old ones are worn through.

I love the clean feeling, clean hair, clean teeshirt, clean skin, I put my fleece on, I thought it would be scratchy without the shirt underneath, but it is ok, the shirt was so very dirty as well, I am glad to have taken it off and washed it.

I walk through town, it was cold and clear earlier but rain was forecast, it is clouding over and mild now.

It is so nice to be all clean.

The only thing is that the bad memories are flooding in and I am having distresses and flashbacks. From just going in the bed and breakfast? I was talking about this at the mission, how simply going indoors makes me distressed.
Oh how I wish I could share the memories with you, the things the church have said and done, I wish I could take it all out and put it on paper for you.
I realised as well that I seem to have missed a large bit out of the sequence of what I have been sharing with you about the Island. But I have a feeling that I have written about it later on.

I wonder who in England is suddenly avidly reading my blog? The people who I have give the link to in England dont tend to read the blog and the blog is removed from search engines due to the concerns I had about who was reading it and why, as explained previously. I hope you find the blog interesting. It helps me to write it out.

Last night after the library closed I went to the Samaritans, I didn't even bother to go to the takeaway. The Samaritan I saw was a nice man who was easy to talk to and I told him about my life as a homeless person, it is almost impossible for me to actually verbalise why I am homeless and what has happened to me.

By the time I finished talking to him it was nearly time for soup kitchen, so I thought I would wander over to soup kitchen. Soup kitchen was quite good, they had goody bags, cakes, plenty of sandwiches, tea, soup. And they also set up another stall nearby with clothes and blankets.

One of the drug addicts was accusing me of having sex with P. my friend who's floor/kitchen floor I slept on and who slept in the tent with me that night when the othe rgirl ran away claiming that a madman had threatened to beat her brains in. I never had sex with P. but druggies and drunkards love to make up rumours, it is nothing new and it shouldn't upset me by now, the very reason I slept on P.'s floor and in the tent with him was that he didn't try to have sex with me, he wasn't interested. He seems to have vanished now, but last I heard of him the police were after him for assault (not sexual, he was in a fight).

Anyway, after getting my food and hot drinks, I went over to the clothing stall, in London clothing was all grabbed very quickly, so I didn't expect anything to be left, I was surprised to find a stall heaped with clothing and blankets and almost no other homeless people there, in a way not too surprising, I am one of the only rough sleepers in town and the other homeless have access to other clothings stores and don't really want old clothes.
I look at the clothes, an immigrant who I have never seen before tells me I need to look for a dress, 'Yes' I tell him, 'I will wear it over my jeans and teeshirt', he tells me it needs to be a red dress, 'Good Lord, are you sure I don't need a mini-skirt really?' I ask. But he is too excited at finding himself a nice coat and forgets he was talking to me.

There is a man in a wheelchair there behind the stall, he has big beard and glasses and is in a wheelchair, he reminds me so much of my dad, he hands me some pairs of socks, the other people running the stall ask what I am looking for by way of clothing, I say 'Anything that will help keep me warm now that it is getting cold at night', now they know I am a rough sleeper so they give me a spare sleeping bag and blanket and some warm long sleeved tops and more socks and a spare hat and scarf, the hat is a good quality one, too good, designed for very cold weather, I woke up with a headache from a too hot head this morning.

The man in the wheelchair says that he expected more of the homeless people to come up to this stall, I tell him that they are too busy gossiping down there, as homeless people do, I tell him that I have heard some fascinating things about myself from the gossips, things I never knew and am quite impressed to know I have done without knowing. He laughs. I thank the clothing people, they are ever so nice and the clothing stall is an unexpected bonus for me.

I go back to my sleeping place, it is cold but I am not cold, I am not very comfortable, I am tense and can't sleep well, i do sleep, but I keep waking and I can't get comfortable, I am not using all my bedding but I am certainly warm enough, the weather stays dry and cold but not freezing. I wake in the morning stiff and aching. I get up and do a sticker hunt, by the time it is almost library time I have found stickers for my cup of tea and I drink my tea while I wash in McD's toilets and change my socks, ah it is good to have clean socks.

Then I come into the library, the immigrant from last night turns up and sits next to me, he is in a bed way, obviously drink or drugs have featured somewhere last night, and that probably also explains his rather forward behaviour at the clothing stall last night (by the way, the clothes are free, it is a clothing stall because the clothes are laid out on a market stall). The immigrant keeps garbling and falling asleep and falling off his chair, upsetting other library people, so the library turn him out.

I just went to the daycentre for a cup of tea and then to the mission, the mission people gave me a warm greeting and told me that grandad is back next week, I spent some time there drinking tea, talking, eating sandwich and soup. Then back out into the cold winter day and back here. I am trying to persuade myself that I can write some of the past, but it is a struggle.

Last night I went hopefully to the takeaway, very hungry, but the skater boys have grown into a big greedy gang who are rude and obstructive, they don't care that I am homeless and hungry as long as they get the food. So I went away hungry. I went to the samaritans, that was mildly helpful, I suppose, the depression has a grip on my throat at the moment and nothing seems helpful.

I go to soup kitchen, I dread going there because some of them are too rough, and one of them, drugged and crazy does take to grabbing me and trying to push me out the way. I get a ham sandwich which is a bit dry but I eat it very quickly as I wait to get a cup of tea, I get some tea but they use powdered milk, I am often sick if I have powdered milk, no idea why.

I manage to get some more sandwiches and tea, that is all they have, it is funny how they are called a soup kitchen and yet they never do soup.

I start heading back to my sleeping place, as I walk past where I was grabbed by the thug, someone comes running up, oh no! But it is just a young man who asks if I can spare him some money for the bus, I tell him I am homeless and have nothing, this always gets a confused reaction and he hurries off to find someone else.

I have some sandwiches for my breakfast in the morning if I want them, these sandwiches are donated to soup kitchen by a cafe chain, and I actually don't enjoy them much. Golly I sound ungrateful and gloomy, depression is winning at the moment, usually I squash the depression as much as I can, but at the moment I can't.

I go to my sleeping place, my little space is full of leaves that have fallen since I've been away. I unwrap my bedding and it has stayed dry, I sort my bed out and look at the sky, it is a cloudy sky and it has rained here, I hope it doesn't rain in the night, I think that either it will rain or it will be cold, I prefer the cold. I wrap up and settle down, the sky starts to clear, I fall asleep, I dream of church and courts and police, of being unable to defend myself.

I wake up and I am warm and comfortable, it isn't too cold, the sky has a thin layer of cloud, I stayed warm and slept well.
I pack up my bedding and head into town to the market toilets, then I go looking for stickers but I don't find any, then I go to the toilets again for my wash. I am not hungry nor craving a hot drink so I wait for the library to open and go and sit at a computer and feel useless.

I am sitting here struggling to do anything because I am so depressed and distracted.

I spent the night dreaming of churches and courtrooms and police.

God help me, and God help all the poor people who still think putting me indoors and getting me a job is possible, let alone an answer to my future, my last job was the best I ever had and yet I struggled badly because of the church and lost the job because of the church in such a horrible humiliating way, and the same with my home. When you have heard my full story you will understand why I have no future, no happy ending with a home and a family and a 'nice job', and hopefully you will understand from what I have written so far that work and finance always have been, and always would be, a struggle due to my disabilities.

Is 'Too hungry to write' an excuse for sitting here and not doing anything? I can't concentrate, maybe it's the long journey, maybe I don't want to start writing the bad stuff.

I was just greeted by V. when I went outside, he seemed pleased to see me, he had the street sweeper girl with him and she was friendly too. V. told me how he'd been helping with an accident nearby in which a six month old baby was killed. He is eternally cheerful, even when talking about things like that.

yesterday evening in the other town, I spent some time on the computers and then managed to get another cuppa at a store that does complimentary tea if you have a store card.
I walked through the shopping malls and the streets, wishing it wasn't Christmas, I can't survive another Christmas.
I went down to the port, it had stopped raining by then, it had only been light rain anyway. It was a spring tide, the water almost covering the little beach, I stood and looked at the little beach, there is a spiked fence to stop people going under the pier as we used to, and the pier itself is in poor repair and almost derelict, it looks like a building site.
I go to the ferry terminal, I feel that I will always be struggling between the need to catch the ferry and go home to the island and the need to completely block out what has happened, I try to just be here as I was here as a child and as a teenager when I went to college, I try to keep just those memories, but whenever I see the sea and the boats and ships it is hard to keep the memories at bay. There are two large ships docked, ships like the ones I used to see when I was far out to sea on a yacht, sailing from the islands.

I head back eventually, back to the town where I sleep. I am surprised when I get there, it is pouring with rain. I go and grab my bedding from the bushes, hoping that the black sacks it is in are still waterproof enough. I put it it all in the church porch and go to look for cardboard as mine is soaked.

I get wet looking for cardboard, this is not good, no way to dry my hair and I will be going on the coach tomorrow looking like a punk with sticking up hair at this rate.
I come across a cross taxi driver who has broken down, he asked a youth to help him push the taxi but the youth ignored him so he swore at him, I offered to push the taxi, but the driver has changed his mind, he says he is not obstructing the road so he will just wait for the breakdown people.
I cross the road and find a nice solid cardboard box in the dustbins, perfect.

I return triumphantly to my porch, and inspect my bedding, it is almost completely dry. The thick cardboard makes a nice base for my bed, I take off my wet fleece jumper and hang it to dry, I put my spare fleece and coat on and dry my hair a bit with my gloves and put my scarf and hat on. I light my little stove, intending to make coffee and heat up some soup, but as I sit and drink the coffee I start feeling so warm and sleepy, so I prepare my bed and tuck down. The rain and clouds mean that the temperature has gone back up and it is mild, but the porch is sheltered from the rain, so, apart from waking myself up by making some sort of noise between a snort and a cry as I fall asleep, I sleep deeply, warmly, comfortably as it rains outside.

I dream that the Bishop is standing there ranting about how this is all my fault and just me, I reply that he has persuaded the rest of the world that but he will never be able to to persuade me. He gets the message and fades as I wake up, it is 5.45am, I am warm, comfortable, dry, reluctant to move even though I tell myself that there is lots to do and that I should move before the cleaners arrive. I end up staying in my warm nest until gone 7am, when I get up and start sorting my things into piles of things to leave, things to take, and rubbish.

The next step is toilets and wash, I go to the cold toilets as that is closest, and I wash and I divide my backpacks into two, one to take on the coach, containing book, shawl and pillow, medicines, water, a packet of cereal, paper and pen and ID.
The one to go in luggage contains everything else, and the other luggage is my eiderdown sleeping bag and the small sleeping bag in a ragged black bag, I can't bear to leave them even if I will struggle to carry all of this. The black bags I got earlier in the week are ragged from being hauled in and out of the bushes.

I go to the shop and get a cheap chocolate bar. I go to the coach station and ask if they have a spare bag, they don't. The coach driver last week laughed that I was bringing a black bag on the coach at all, and it wasn't ragged like this one is.
A blind couple with a guide dog are arguing with the clerk, they want assistance getting on the coach, but the clerk says they should have booked assistance in advance, they protest, it turns out that they are from America and it is different there, I wondered why their guide dog had a different harness and was not behaving much like a guide dog, I guess the American guide dogs are trained differently, in the end the station inspector guides them to the coach stand and asks soem other passengers to help them onto the coach.
I went to the coach station the other day to ask if there was anything they could do to help make the journey less stressful for me after the two bad journeys last week, but they had no answer.

Anyway, I wait for the coach, there are a number of people there, but it turns out that they are waiting for other buses, I wait a while and when they announce that the coach is late, I move out of the main bus station and wait outside, it still doesn't get busy, which is good. As the coach comes in I go back to wait with the others, one lady steps back and tells me that I was before her and I laugh and tell her about the man who tried to barge in the que last time, she laughs as well and says 'there is always one', the couple in front turn round and tell us about an experience they had on a flight where it is a free for all for seats and how they ended up at the back of the que and got the worst seats.
The blind couple and their rather lively guide dog are helped onto the coach, and me and the nice lady take the opposite seats in the front of the coach, 'more leg room' she says. I am behind the driver. I have plenty of room and no-one disturbing me, but we have other stops before London, the woman who booked these tickets for me said it was a direct service but it isn't.

The journey to the next stops and the next three stops are all in my home territory, all where I lived as a child, all familiar and in County A. We drive past stretches of sea that I know well, the sea is flat calm and mirrorlike with mist swirling around above it. I try not to think about the boats and the sea too much.
The three stops in one of my old home towns mean we pick up quite a few people, but no-one sits with me, I read my book or watch the road, we go through County B and the shame of the memories comes back. We go past a big accident, a collision of several lorries.

 I love watching the countryside go past, but I wish with all my heart that I was out there working, that I was strong and fit and belonging somewhere, that my breath was easy and my body was strong and my hands hard from work, I feel so useless.

We stop once more, I am getting worried about missing my connection at London as this coach is running so late. I remain in solitary splendour in my front seat, at one of the stops the nice lady's friend got on and sat with her. I have a calm, relaxed journey, enjoying my book and the road.

We get to London, there is not much time between arriving and departing, but enough.
Again I manage to get a seat on my own, this coach remains uncrowded and peaceful as well. I actually fall asleep for an hour and am woken by someone coughing, I leap out of sleep thinking it is night time and someone has found me, my neck aches a little bit from sleeping with my head forward.
I continue to enjoy the journey but I look out at the lonely fields and farmhouses and wish with all my heart I was out there and not reliant on town centres and bins, I wish so much that I could be ok and go home, but I have no home, I will never have a home now, 30 years old and having been outside of society so much of my life, and with the 10 years or so trying to belong in society being so badly marred by the church, I have no further ability to connect with society, to try to belong and fit in, to hope for better.

We arrive. I grab my things and hurry to the daycentre, they make me a cup of tea and heat up a cornish pasty for me, I am very grateful for that. I feel a bit wobbly, but I think it is coach travel that makes me wobbly.

I rearrange my backpacks so I am only carrying one, and I stash the other and the sleeping bags in my stashplace and head for the library to continue blogging.

I am here in this big town again, it is dark and it is raining, that is how I love it to be, I wish I could stay here, but I am putting myself at too mcuh risk from the woman from the church who went on hurting me, even being in this county, County A, is putting me in danger of her finding me and causing me problems.

This town is beautiful, it is full of memories.
I just went for a walk after the last computer session and I found a 6th sticker for McD's and I went and got a cup of tea.

I missed out of yesterday's adventures that I had managed to get my hair washed. 5 minute hair washing is an art I have perfected. I use the disabled toilet or the baby change room, in this case the baby change room. Block the plughole with tissue paper, run water, wet hair, use soap from the dispenser to rub hair, rinse with handfuls of water, dry with paper towel, dry the floor with paper towel, scram before mothers and babies start beating on the door, go into the ladies toilets and dry hair more under the hand dryers, it is sufficient. Daunting in cold weather through.

How can I go on telling you about my past, it is hurting me and eating me up, distressing harsh memories, for which the church entirely blames me, I want to write it out for you, so that it isn't just kept in and controlled by dissociating.

I wish with all my heart that I could share my story with a psychologist. I think a psychologist would somehow understand. But I have no access to a psychologist.

a song

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mFyiWlp13a8

Here is a song about how I feel and how I have felt.

poem

someone wrote a poem for me and drew a picture with it, that is really special for me.
I have had years of forgotten Birthdays and being put down, years of the church telling me I am mad and bad, years of pain and shame and struggle. No one has ever written a poem for me before.

I don't know what to do with my blog now, I am struggling to write the worst bits, the recent bit, between leaving the island and ending up in London hurts the most, and I feel like skipping the long complicated situation on the island and going on to what has happened since I left, because it hurts so very much, the injustice and how I was silenced while the church got their point accross hurts me every day.
But I have been told that my blog is confusing, and there is no point in writing it if it already too confusing, and no point trying to find a way to write the harsh painful recent bits.

the weekend

Saturday evening. I walked to the next town to check the bins. The bins in the next town are easy to raid and I have no competition there at all, it is a small town, still known as a village by some, and there are no homeless people there. It is a town with a problem of bored and destructive gangs of teenagers, but they don't do bins.

The walk there is alright, the sky is glowing with sunset and it is a nice cold clear evening. I get there and no-one is around, so I take a quick look in the bins and pull out some crumbly bread, some rather lifeless salad and some not bad cherry tomatos, I try to eat some of that.

Then I return to the bins, I have to be careful as there are still supermarket staff left, I get a bunch of bananas, one and a half of them are edible, so I eat. Then I find an unopened box of maltezers, some cans of coke and little bottles of fruit squash and some pot noodles. That will do for a haul. I scram.

I go to sit down, this place always makes me feel sad, memories, memories of my childhood, memories of my three friends here who I don't see any more, who I don't want to see, memories of the church across the road from where I'm sitting.

I walk slowly down the road, I don't want to, I walk to the place where my friend works, she doesn't want to see me, I don't want to see her, she tells me to come back tomorrow, I don't want to come back tomorrow, I write a letter to the other two old friends, hoping they can explain to her.

I walk back to the other town, I have to deal with some of the crazy teenagers on the way, they decide in the dark that I am a dirty old man because they can't see that I'm female and walking along minding my own business, this town always has had a problem with bored crazy teenagers, often as I walk by I see the police talking to them.

The sly is clear but a mist is forming round streetlights and headlights, it is getting cold, I can see the stars in the sky, there is no-one else out here, just miles of silence, miles of silence and the mist swirling over the tidal waters of the river as the tide ebbs, there is a stork in the water and a juvenile swan, probably one of the cygnets that was on the nest by the bridge earlier this year.

I am running out of energy and my feet are aching like mad, I will be glad to collapse into my sleeping place.
As I walk back into town I spot something, and I wonder if my eyes are playing tricks. A banknote.
Yes, it is a banknote. I stop dead, the doormen at a nearby pub look round curiously, but the banknote is now mine.
I am not hungry, there is a takeaway open that does a decent cup of tea, I can't eat their food anyway, it gives me indigestion, but I get a nice cup of tea, then I head back to my sleeping place and wrap up in my clothes and bedding as it is cold, I doze and drift and sleep and wake and dream, I dream that my brothers are happily running a farm but that our dad has just died and we are all grieving.

I wake up and it is a cold misty morning, the dew has wet my blankets and sleeping bags.  I get up early because it is Sunday and I am sleeping near the church. I go to McD's, I have some breakfast and a cuppa there, the cuppa means I now have six stickers for another cuppa, so I have another cuppa. I am alone upstairs in McD's, so I take my inhaler and pill and chest oil and I wash my face and neck with a face wipe. Faces and necks get dirty and greasy when you sleep rough and wrap up in blankets and scarves and things.

I go to the toilets and continue my washings, I manage to find my nail clippers and clip and wash my nails, nails also get very dirty when sleeping rough, and I have dirty nails. I change my underwear and socks, I wet wipe everything and put nice smelling moisturiser on, I brush my teeth and do mouthwash. I don't wnat to go to church smelling bad. These pubic toilets are the basic ones, not the nice indoor warm ones, so washing here is harder, it is cold and dark in here.

Nowhere is open until 10am at least, so I go to a church that I don't usually go to on Sunday, I have been once or twice, but their service starts at 9am and they do tea afterwards, so that will keep me amused until 10am. I get there late anyway and the steward smiles and tells me to wait and he will find me a seat when the priest has finished talking. He does. This church is ok, this is the church I fell asleep in the other night, they are always nice to me. I get propelled in the direction of tea and biscuits after the service, and then it is almost 10.15 when I escape, that doesn't give me much time as my church starts it's service at 10.30.

I dash up the road, hurriedly get a bottle of spray deodourant from the cheap and cheerful shop, I dash to the toilets and spray deodourant in my boots and trousers, there is no time to wash my hair as I had hoped to, then off I hurry to my church.

Church is good as usual, the pastor and his wife are rushing off somewhere but they stop to say hello and to offer a small food parcel which contains mini rolls, swiss roll and some little packets of cereal. Another lady who I know gave me a McD's card with 6 stickers, a McD's cheap meal voucher and enough money for the cheap meal.
There is tea and coffe after the service, all very nice, and then I wander back into town to get my meal. Sunday afternoons can be tiresome in this town, nowhere to go to keep the bad memories at bay, but today there is a funfair and entertainment in town because they are switching the christmas lights on. The entertainments in town have their uses, like free christmas pudding and mince pies and things. There is a lovely fireworks display at 4.30, which helps make up for me missing the November 5th displays. Then town is crowded with people leaving the christmas lights switch on.

I got a pair of gloves today, and some foam insoles for my boots, to help my poor aching feet.

I try to find somewhere quiet but out of the cold to read my book, I end up in the bushes of the council gardens, brewing coffee and reading, it is a bit dark to see in the street lights, so I go to the bus station for a while, then I head for church.

At church I get a cup of tea and a biscuit and I enjoy the service, then it is time to go back to my sleeping place. I make up my bed and tuck down, it is another cold night with either very heavy dew or light rain, I doze and sleep and wake, I cry in my sleep and this wakes me, I have been snoring, roaring, coughing and crying in my sleep this week and it is most peturbing.

I still have the bad memories and 'why was this allowed to happen's disturbing me every morning.

I get up in the early morning and go round to the council gardens and brew a hot pan of tea and then some strong coffee, and I eat one of the little boxes of cereals that the pastor's wife gave me.

Then I go to the toilets and have a good wash, I like my washing, I feel better for it.

I manage to get another cup of tea off the market stall and then waste some time in the library on a computer that crashes or freezes all the time, the computers in that library are not too good.

There is nowhere else to beg a cuppa today, I go in church briefly and then I climb aboard the bus and abscond to the other town where I can get better internet access.

shame and sadness, bad memories, I want to write down the closer, more recent bad memories rather than struggling to write about the island and the lead into the bad memories, but I don't know how without making the blog more confusing, I asked for advice as to how to but was just told that the blog is confusing.

I am here, using the better internet, hopeful that I know where to get a free cup of tea in this town, and I will enjoy being here until this evening, then I will return to the town where I sleep, then tomorrow morning I am moving on.

I went back to the fair and in order to prevent them getting worried about me, I told them that I just enjoyed looking round and being there, and that I was homeless and couldn't buy anything, they kindly offered me an apple juice and let me have another little bit of cake.

I went to the council gardens and set my stove up and brewed a milk coffee (otherwise known as a latte), that coffee is nice when made with water but it's delicious with milk, I made it with milk to help with my hunger and use up the milk as it wont last long now that it's opened. I end up having two milky coffees as they are so good. I cook a tin of chilli con carne, not brilliant without rice, but more solid than soup, it is food, it will do. I am very low on fuel tablets now, I have two and a half, it takes a half to brew a drink and a whole tablet to brew a drink and cook a tin.
At least I have had some sort of a meal, now I tighten my shoelaces and prepare to walk the 5 mile round trip to the town with the food bins.

Hello,
It is Saturday, 11.55am.

yesterday after blogging I went and brewed a hot drink and cooked a tin of soup, rather a lot of liquid for a meal, but I don't really have anything solid left to eat.

I came back to the library and read books until 7pm, then I went looking for the elusive people who sometimes help, I never go to their houses, I only go to the churches in the hope that they are there.There is no-one there, only the choir at one church, and they don't know me.

I went to another church, it was unlocked and the lights were on and the radiators were warm but cooling down. I went in but no-one was there, I am sure I remember this happening before, I go in and sit nervously, hoping that whoever comes to lock up will be sympathetic. No-one comes.

I go and sit by the radiator, resting my bad arm against it in the hope of helping it. I fall asleep and wake up again at 10.30pm, no-one has been in but I slept well for a few hours, the radiator is now cool.

I consider the situation, I would like to sleep in the church but I know it causes church leaders headaches if anyone sleeps in the church, and I don't want to fall out with them, there is nowhere to hide in the church, and I don't want to be locked in and found in the morning, on the other hand I am sleepy and I want a sheltered night's sleep somewhere safe. I decide to go to where my bedding is and decide as I go.

I decide on staying outside for the night and sleep alongside the other church's wall (the church that lets me store my bedding), I sleep on the church side of the wall because it is safer.
The new sleeping bag is kind of feather filled, like an eiderdown sleeping bag, I arrange my now plentiful bedding and tuck down for a warm and fairly sleepful night, I wake at 7.30am realising that it is light and my alarm hasn't gone off. I clear up and brew tea, I use the last of my sugar in the tea.

I go back to the church that was open, I will never know if it was left open all night as there are other people going in for pre-mass prayers, I decide that the hunt for food is more important than prayers, so I keep looking for food, nothing. I have a wash in the toilets.

There is a craft fair being set up and I wonder if they will do tea, they are doing tea and I tell the man that I am homeless and have no money and he lets me have a tea for free - I only do this if I have to. There is also cake being given out, free to anyone, and chocolates, this helps to raise my blood sugar, though the cake is only a small piece and I will still be hungry for a while.

There is no other food to be had anywhere, so I will return to raid this fair again later, I have a tin or two left but I have to be sparing with the tins and the cooker fuel as both are running out.

I spent a few hours in the town I went to yesterday evening, I walked through memories, memories of me and Martin, me and G. but most of all memories of me and my siblings.
I went up to the port where we used to play, I watched the ferries but I can't let myself think about ferries, I walked through the park where we used to play, it is no longer locked at night as it was all those years ago, and I walk in the pitch darkness alongside the water, I look down at the beach where we used to search for crabs and play pirate games and build rafts from driftwood.

I feel that I have been left behind while they have gone on to better lives, even though I was the one who tried so hard to move on from the family and our upbringing, I am the one who is left back here without my brother and sister and other siblings, they have lives, but I am dead. I wonder where my dad is, I know that if he wasn't so far away he would be happy to stand here with me looking across the water and at the sparkling lights of the port.

I go back to the station and make my way back to the town where I am sleeping. I get a cup of tea from the van at the station because it is cheap there. I find a glove on the ground, very useful, cold hands at night sometimes now.

I have trouble settling down to sleep, there are two youths who keep hanging around the church and the council land, this makes it difficult to get my bedding or settle anywhere. Eventually when the church meetings and youths go, I move to my sleeping place, hoping that the extra blanket, small as it is, will help me to stay warm, but despite the warm clothes, blankets and heat sachets I remain not warm enough, and my arm is very painful all night, I must have slept at some point because I dreamed I was sitting on the ground drinking some tea someone has given me when my brother and his girlfriend turn up and offer me a refill, they tell me that they have been going to a church and met someone who is very like dad, I tell them that there are lots of people like dad in church. (when I wake up I think my comment is odd, out of place and not accurate and wonder why I said it so naturally in the dream). By morning I have not had any deep sleep and the sleeping bag is very wet on top from heavy cold dew.

In the morning the cleaner from church sees me dozing by the wall but doesn't do anything.
I move very quickly, despite this church actually being my old allies who have never turned me away, I don't want to aggravate things and the other homeless people have been causing problems round the churches.

I go to get a cup of tea and some breakfast, then I go and have a thorough wash in the toilets, I wash and take my meds every morning, I always put horrible covonia oil on my chest to help clear the asthma, it works.
I go to the family planning clinic, not my favourite place, but I take the pill for medical reasons and it makes life easier. The nurse is very nice, checks my blood pressure with the old fashioned device, says she can't hear anything, I tell her that maybe I am dead, but she has heard that before, she tries again and finds my heartbeat or whatever and says that all is well, she tells me that I should go to the doctor about my arm.

I go to the library and get a bit of facebook done. Then I go to see if I can find anyone I know because I need black bags. No-one is around, I go to a church that has just finished their daily service and the tea afterwards.
I go in and say to the people there 'I am homeless, I wonder if you could help me with something?' They look alarmed in case I ask for money, haha, I ask them if they have any spare black sacks as my bedding bags have deteriorated and I need to move my bedding. They look relieved and find some bags and offer me tea and biscuits, which I accept, and they ask about my situation and they are not shocked, they understand, but they tell me that sleeping rough will affect my health when I'm older, they find me some tinned food and tea bags as well.

 I thank them for their help and trot off to move my bedding.

when I go to where my bedding is stored there are some men round the corner hacking down bushes, I am worried because I think that they are the council gardeners who don't like homeless people. I go to move my bedding anyway and am relieved that it is still there. I worry that the gardeners are going to come and tell me off, but at least I can say I am moving my things. I know they told one of the other homeless girls off for leaving things here once.

The gardeners come round and one of them says 'you doing some clearing out too?' I am about to defend myself but he recognizes me before I recognize him.
He gives a friendly greeting and turns to the other gardener and says 'This young lady helps us out sometimes', it is the church gardeners, not the council gardeners! I have helped them with weeding and sweeping sometimes when I have been in this town. The gardener introduces me to the other gardener.

I explain to them that there has been trouble with people round here since I was last in town and that I am having to move my bedding and stop storing it here. They are sympathetic, they know there has been trouble here too.
The man who recognized me says that I can store my bedding in the church garden, he says that I am not to tell the other homeless people, and I assure him that I wont. I move my things round and as I do, the two loud youths turn up in the area where I was storing my bedding, I am relieved that they don't see where I have moved it to. It is a very happy instant solution, I thought I would be walking around with all my stuff trying to find a home for it. Churches have their uses!
I ask the gardeners what I can do to help out, and they get me sweeping the pathways round the corner where they have cleared the gutters and cut things back while they move on to another job.

I sweep up, and I go to see what the youths are doing, they have gone but they have cut a small hole in the gate between the council park and the church gardens, I am slightly worried for my bedding but they won't get through that hole and hopefully they will give up hanging around this area and never find my bedding or go into the church garden.

The gardener comes back to see what I am doing and I tell him about the youths and the hole, he says that they are aware of the youths and not to worry, he says that these youths have been coming into the church asking to use the toilet, he says bluntly that he thinks they are 'casing' the place, ie sizing it up for burglary, and that he thinks they are stashing drugs round by where my bedding was and the gate is, he says that a crowbar was found in the bushes in the church car park when they were pruning. He also reminds me that there is a garden tap here whenever I need water. In some towns water is hard to come by, but there is also a tap at the church up the road that I have permission to use.
All of this worry about the youths and the other homeless people makes me shiver, I sleep in this area, stash in this area and am vulnerable to these youths and the police if any trouble occurs.
But these men believe in me and when I express my concerns they reassure me, they say that the spotlights and the neighbour keeping an eye on the place will help and cctv will be considered (I asked about that), they say that they will ensure that the priest knows I am leaving my things there in case there is any query, I know the priest and I know he will be ok with that.

I leave the gardening men to finish clearing their tools away, and I go up the road to see if the churchyard where the other homeless people used to sleep is a possibility as a sleeping area as the other church and garden area is now too risky. I decide that this new area is possibly too exposed and vulnerable, the others managed by being in numbers and being tough and aggresive. I am alone and vulnerable. I have other ideas in mind as sleeping places though.

I will need to explain the full story of my interaction with this town at some point, but really it is part of the continuing story of me and the church, which I wish I could just reel off all in one go and get it over with.

I go back to the library and make use of someone else's session as they have left without logging off.
Then I go to the tea stall and use up my last bit of money on a cuppa. Then I go to the basics bank and ask if they have any blankets, they say they haven't but would I like a sleeping bag? I would indeed! They hand me a nice big heavy sleeping bag and also a carton of long life milk, I am very happy, I have teabags and milk, all I need to do is collect sugar sachets from the cafes and brew lots of tea later.
The sleeping bag is big and thick, excellent, I think I will sleep better tonight with the lightweight sleeping bag as a ground sheet and the heavy sleeping bag on top.
I hide the sleeping bag and milk in the church garden with everything else.

I haven't had lunch yet, I will have to set my stove up and start cooking soon. But I need to blog first.