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, 26 December 2011

Merry Boxing day! Here I am in the grotty internet cafe, trying to catch up with my blog, it doesn't matter how many times I ask for an hour on the internet that woman gives me half an hour! grr.

Well I will start catching up my blog and continue later.

I went to the bed and breakfast on Christmas eve, had a hot shower, settled down to watch Christmas television, mainly Christmas songs and comedy.
I was going to have a sleep and then get up for midnight mass, but I didn't sleep. at almost 10pm I walked down to soup kitchen to wish my homeless friends a merry Christmas, but soup kitchen didn't turn up, they were supposed to turn up every night despite it being Christmas, and none of my friends were there anyway, there was a new guy going on about how he got a life sentence while his friend only got 9 months, no idea what for, but I didn't really want to know, there was a very drunk or drugged girl begging for change, so I decided to go and get a cup of tea from the bed and breakfast before mass.
As I walked someone shouted me, it was a lad from the protest camp, he said to me that he was on my side and always had been, and that the mentally ill girl had long since gone and that he didn't like her, he said he was sorry for what I had been through and was going through and that he had been through it all too. I thanked him and told him that all the conflict was water under the bridge now, I had been startled when he shouted me because I barely recognised him and had mistaken him for one of the outreach workers momentarily.

I went back along death row street, the dangerous one, police and ambulances and flashing lights everywhere, blood on the ground, the police were pinning someone down while they waited for a cage.

I will have to stop here and continue later.

No comments:

Post a Comment