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:

Friday, 6 January 2012

Google Chrome has messed up my blog again and made it hard to work with, but I will do my best, I hope I can get shot of google chrome as soon as possible and go back to my old familiar blog.

Last night as I went out of the library the cold air hit me and I was reminded that I live outdoors. It is always worst in those few minutes when I go out, I feel nervous of the night and not sure I can cope with the cold. Then I get used to it again.

I walked down through town and my old protester friend shouted me and gave me four McD's stickers, which was good because I had two already, so I got a cup of tea.
I went to the samaritans and talked to a nice lady who I have seen before. She got me a cup of tea.

Then I put my spare fleece on and went to bed down, it was a cold wet night but as I bedded down it cleared and I could see the moon. As I fell asleep an explosion woke me up, but then everything was silence, I wonder if it was an exploding head thing?
I slept, I dreamed I was in a church with a friend and we were decorating a christmas tree, then he vanished and I was alone with the tree and decorations and I could hear a very BBC English voice, old fashioned sounding and sounding a bit like my friend, he was commentating on delinquent boys who were sent to 'work farms' as penalties. I woke up, leaped up and went to the toilet, it was 2am and I was cold, I rearranged my blankets and tucked back down warmly, it was a freezing cold night.

I woke up groggily at 7.30, knowing I had to move before I was seen, but deciding in my doze to 'exercise my constitutional rights to stay put'. It was about 8am when I stashed my bedding and went to the market for the loo and a cup of tea. I should never stay in bed that late, I will get moved on if I do.

I had breakfast and tea at the market stall and had an unremarkable wash.

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