Introduction

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 http://whatreallyhappenedinthechurch.blogspot.co.uk/

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: http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/JJNP

Friday, 18 November 2011

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.

No comments:

Post a Comment