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

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

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

Sunday, 27 November 2011


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.

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