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

I got my shower yesterday, a long hot shower with a cup of tea to follow. The lady who lets me use the shower is away for a week now, so no more showers.

I went litterpicking, which is probably a silly thing for a homeless person to do after a shower, but never mind.
I went back to the library to try and repair my laptop, but it still isn't working. I get a phonecall from the mission in the town I was in, they ask if I am ok.

I started getting hungry after a while, all I had is some tins, and I was reluctant to set up my stove and try to cook a tin, I was lucky, someone had dropped a perfectly good sausage roll outside the bakery, the person who dropped it probably didn't want it after it had been on the ground, but I am perfectly happy to eat it, followed by a few still warm chips out of a packet in the bin. I feel better now, ready for the next part of my routine when I am here, the bin walk.
It starts raining as I walk, and I worry about my bedding and how I am going to stay dry.

The bin walk is a two and a half mile walk to the next town, one of my childhood towns, I go there to raid the bins, there is no competition for the bins in this town, and so I usually do well for food here. I have to wait for the supermarket workers to go home, so I set up my stove in the church porch and brew coffee. Church people come along for a meeting, but they aren't people who recognise me, so they ask if I am ok, I say yes, I don't ask where my old friends are.

It stops raining.

I go to the bins, but the bins are poor tonight, a few chocolates out of an open packet and some stale bread and ham, I try to make a ham sandwich but the bread is too dry, so I eat the ham on it's own.

I look in the bins again, and find a packet of crisps. I eat those and start walking the two and a half miles back. On the way I stop at a petrol station to use their toilet, they are nice at this petrol station, they have let me pay for things with copper coins before, and have let me use their phone in an emergency.

I am walking well, I am walking as well as I can, I will never walk really well. I get back to town by 9pm, and I look in the charity shop bins in the hope of another blanket or something, but I find nothing. I am tired, I go to bed down, but there are people in the church who's porch I want to borrow. So I wait.

When they have gone I go to bed down, but someone comes into the church and turns the lights back on, so I put my things over the fence and walk round to where I sometimes bed down.

I bed down there, I can  hear people but that is because there is a pub nearby, they often make a noise but they never come over here.
I bed down and am a bit warmer and more comfortable than last night, and I get some sleep and dream of the mission and the bad churches and all kinds of things. By the time my alarm goes off I can hear the work on a nearby building site, but again they won't come over here. I get up and use the toilet and then go back to bed, I am too depressed to get up, but as always when i sleep in, I dream of being found.

I get up at 8am, and pack my things up and stash them, I set my stove up and brew coffee, which I drink out of the pan.

I am still so depressed that it is hard to move, I get up and walk around and then head for the toilets for a wash, I always do get on and do things eventually, even when I feel that there is no point whatsoever.

This town is no good for stickers, I have five, I cannot find a sixth sticker at all, the bins are hard to check, and people always keep their stickers, it is like that here.

Here I am in the library, running out of time after just writing this, I am hungry, but I have nothing suitable for breakfast, and the cans I have are tuna, chilli (no rice), rice pudding and chicken, nothing breakfasty.

I must go and beg off the church.

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