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:

Thursday, 17 November 2011

Here I am at a better computer.
I went to try and cook some dinner after my last blog. I hid behind the church where I sleep and cooked beans and sausage in their little tin, a tin of soup and a tin of rice pudding, it was all edible, I have an autistic fear and hatred of tins and that kind of metal, hence cooking tins being a last resort.

As I eat my tin meal a council man comes along with his rubbish cart, I politely ask him not to throw my bedding away. He says hehas had a complaint about rubbish and needles in the area, I tell him that I haven't seen any needles, but that my bedding is not rubbish, he says that technically he should clear it away but if I move my things to where I am sitting while he is in the area then he can't do anything about them, he says that I should be careful of needles, I agree, it had gone out of my mind, the other homeless people in this town do and have used drink and use drugs even here, he says that maybe the rubbbish that they were talking about was in the other corner, I tell him that there is a lot of rubbish round there (including my old stash pack that was emptied out and strewn everywhere and a load of beer cans, so he goes round there and clears that up, I thank him for being so understanding as he leaves. I think he realised I wasn't one of the druggies.

I go and litterpick the church car park, they have a meeting on, I remember the minister of this church saying that I was welcome to go in and ask for a cup of tea or coffee if there was something on in the church, so I go in and ask, shy and embarrased. There is no one there that I know, the lady doing tea assures me that I did the right thing by coming in and asking for tea, I am pleased to get such a response, the responses of London churches when I asked or needed anything has made me nervous.

The lady makes me a cup of tea, she is worried about me being homeless, so she drags me over to meet a visiting minister, she tells him that I am homeless so he needs to advise me, the minister looks completely stumped by this, but he offers me biscuits. He says he doesn't know the town well so he can't give much practical advice, other people at the table try to offer advice, but there is nothing new in their advice and I am somewhat flung into this situation where everyone wants to help but they can't.

Anyway, I escape when I finish my tea, and the minister comes after me and wishes me luck and gives me some money. He is not local and can't do much else to help, but he is from an area that I know well, a place in county B where I used to work, he is surprised that I know that area, I tell him that I like that area but it is no good for homeless people long term as it is so small and rural, he agrees.

I walk down the road and towards the station, I am not sure that I should, but to go to my childhood home and have more internet access and get a blanket in the shops there and some good food and possibly find a soup run seems like a good enough idea.

I do feel good about being here in this town, the lights and the familiar scenery call to me, my childhood memories weave in and out of the blank fog in my brain, the fog keeps memories dim and thus keeps me alive.

I go to the library and they issue me with a temporary card.

I am going to stay in this town for a few hours and try to enjoy being here, even here there are bad memories of church and homelessness, but they are not too strong.

My arm is hurting and becoming harder to move, I hope it is just a temporary thing, I haven't injured it as far as I know.

I hope that the bad memories stay away, I know that coming back to the area and the town I am in makes memories worse as well as helping me, I love these  counties and these towns so much, and yet it is painful and risky to be here. I am only here until early next week, then I head away again.

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