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

Saturday, 12 November 2011

yesterday evening I was restless so I caught a bus to one of the neighbouring towns and had a walk along the beach and a cup of tea, then I came back. I shouldn't be spending money, but the mission lady gave me a banknote yesterday and I have my giro money as well.
There are so many bed and breakfast places in the other town that I would be bewildered if I decided to go in a bed and breakfast on payday.

I came back to my town and settled down in my sleeping place, weekend nights are always disrupted by drunken shouting, and I am woken at 4am by such shouting, but I sleep again and it is nearly 8am when I get up, this is ok because there is no-one around on weekend mornings.

I go to the market toilets, this is always a hurried dash in the morning because when it is light I wont use the bushes as a toilet, too risky.
I get a cup of tea and wander over to the shopping centre, I sit in there and watch tv on the big screen sometimes, and as I do that now, some people come and hand me a religeous tract, they dont try to evangelise though.
A boy wanders past in school uniform, and I say out loud 'school on Saturday? Thats not right.' He turns and looks at me and carries on. I remember how in Main village some of the grammar school children had saturday school.

I go in the shopping centre toilets for a wash, they are better than the market toilets and I get a good wash and change my underwear and socks and bandage my leg as it is hurting and awkward.

Then I go back to the market and get a cup of tea and some breakfast, a load of police turn up, I can't go living in fear of the police and they were quite reasonable the other night, so I carry on enjoying my breakfast and then it is library time.

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