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:

Monday, 7 November 2011

When I left the cafe yesterday I decided to go to the church I have been to in the evenings for a few weeks, even though some of the old people are not happy to have a homeless person there.

I was surprised because it was a joint churches service with a speaker who was talking about his mission in Souuth America, so the room was quite crowded.

The nice priest who was there the other week was there and he invited me to come to the church hall afterwards because people would be having tea and cakes and talking to the mission man.

Tea and cakes were good and I ended up talking to a variety of people and drinking as much tea as possible.

Afterwards I went to the Samaritans. There is a nice man there who I have seen a few times before, he provides generous amounts of tea and biscuits and is ever so nice and helpful.

After the Samaritans I didn't need to go and get a cup of tea from McD's, so I headed back towards my bed place, the streets were quiet and wet, it is always hard to think about bedding down when it is so wet, even though my hedge is fairly dry.

As I walk a man comes up to me and tells me that he is a rough sleeper and is starving and is desparate for a hot drink and can I spare any change? This happens a lot, and it is a great delight to tell them that I am a rough sleeper too, because apparently I don't look like one. This man is shaking and stiff from drug withdrawal symptoms, but I tell him I am a rough sleeper with no money and that soup kitchen will be open in a few minutes.
He says that he will go to soup kitchen but starts of rapidly in the opposite direction of soup kitchen, looking for money. He doesn't want food or drink, he wants drugs and money for drugs.

The streets are lovely and quiet on a wet sunday night, and I find stickers as I walk along, I now have five stickers as well as a little bit of money.

I go to bed down, there is a strong wind, wind is the worst weather for sleeping rough, no amount of blankets keep the wind off. But I am fairly sheltered, my worry is the tree I am under, my dad used to tell me to keep away from trees in bad weather, easier said than done, and above me there is a small broken branch caught on another branch, it would give me a bit of a clout if it fell, but I cannor really move anywhere else. As I settle down I am clouted by a bit of bark falling off the tree, but it doesn't hurt me.
It is raining lightly, and I am sheltered enough. So I fall asleep with the peril of being under a big tree in the wind. I dream and distress in my sleep, I wish I could record the dreams every time I wake because I lose a lot of vivid dreams by the time I wake in the morning. All i remember was something about sailing, something about my dad and digging and the Salvation Army. The other night I dreamed about being in Brazil and being in America. Odd and random dreams.

I wake a few times in the night, uncomfortable because there is a bit of uneven ground in my bed, cold when some of my bedding goes astray, and needing the loo at one point, I even have a spider in my ear at one point.
My alarm goes off, but I am reluctant to wake up properly, I am comfortable now, so I laze around till 8am, which is luxury but puts me in danger of being found.
I head for the market and get a cup of tea and some toast, then I have a wash.

Gettting up at 8am means I only have an hour to wait for the library to open, which is quite easy compared to two hours that I usually wait, and having a cup of tea or two this time also helps. It's a good start to the day.

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