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, 9 January 2012

from the journal - murder and suicide

I don't know if or where I have mentioned this before, about one of the homeless men being murdered.
But I have written about it in the journal.

He was one of the beggars down by the railway station, harmless and very quiet and sad, he didn't have much life left in him when he was murdered and everyone thought it was the drugs that had killed him at first. He had been collapsing continuously for a while and the last time I had seen him before he was murdered he had been unable to stand on his own and had been completely out of it, falling over every time his fellow beggars let go of him.

But then the word got around that he had been murdered, that he had internal injuries, suggesting that he had been kicked where he always sat on the ground by the station. Two men were arrested.
I don't know if he owed them money or something.
He was harmless. And defenceless.

I used to buy him a hot chocolate when I went to the cafe for a cuppa, if I had enough money, he always asked for hot chocolate, not tea. And one day he was sitting there in minus zero temperatures without his blanket, I wondered where his blanket was, but I was carrying a blanket, and he asked if he could have it, I gave him the blanket and he put it over his head. He must have been freezing sitting there.

The average life expectancy of a homeless person is low, and a number of my fellow homeless have died while I've been on the streets. And my hope is for me that God has mercy and honours that statistic and lets me go too. Unless I am pardoned for fighting back to the appaling church and unless I am protected from that safeguarding woman then I have no hope, no future.

Another homeless death was a suicide, he went on the railway line, as I would. The homeless services made a loud and proud and continuous statement about how 'They had tried to help him', which was disputed by his close friends who said that the B******'s were just showing off and advertising themselves and they hadn't helped him (much the same as they would have claimed to help me if I had given up instead of hanging on as I have, and they didn't help me by breaching confidences with the diocese and being biased), this homeless suicide man had his funeral at the cathedral, which his close friend said again was affectation and advertising, the homeless man who died would not have wanted it, but it gave the interlinked Cathedral and homeless services pictures in the paper and a lot of self-congratulation.

God please help and protect my fellow homeless, and break the back of the arrogant church!

RIP B. and S. I hope that where you are is kinder to you than this world and your struggle is over now.

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