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:

Thursday, 15 March 2012

Good morning bloggypeople from a miffed blogger.
I will tell you why in a minute.

Anyway, yesterday afternoon was spent in the library in a private study room, as is becoming routine.
Then It was time to kill time, I went in church a minute and then went back to the sleeping place and brewed coffee.

Then it was time for soup kitchen, I went via the bus station toilets and managed to help two damsons in distress as I went.
I went to the loo and then a two girls came in, one went in the cubicle I had been in and one checked the other out and found the door wouldn't lock, so I told her I would stand guard for her, then the other girl came back out crossing her legs and saying there was no loo paper in her cubicle, so I gave her my pack of tissues and that was my good deeds for the day.

At soup kitchen two of the brawlers were absent, one hopefully in custody and the other possibly got the kicking he deserved, and I shouldn't be thinking like that. The immigrant woman was there but she was quiet and behaved very well.

A man came rushing up to me proclaiming he had forgot my name again and grinning, I told him my name and he asked if I remembered him from the daycentre, he stopped to talk to me and told me his story, he had been caught for drug offences and had been put in prison, he had had to wear a tag when released, so I will nickname him 'tag', he gave me a street hug, which is a platonic hug like the ones that my friend M. used to give, he told me he is a born again Christian, he warned me not to sleep down by the canal - what canal??? He told me that someone down there had poured petrol over an immigrant's tent and set fire to it and the immigrant lived for six weeks in agony after that.
That makes me angry, the immigrants annoy the hell out of me sometimes but no-one deserves to be killed like that.
'Tag' has spent a lot of his life in the town I was born in, and like it or not I have some of the accent and so his accent makes sense to me.

'Tag' and one of the other men kept going and getting me sandwiches and biscuits, and I had plenty of tea, I also said hello to another immigrant woman who I will call 'martha', she is really nice and her english is good, so now I know some 'good un's' among the homeless, I am happy with that.

After soup kitchen I had a wander about and then went back to my shelter, it is a good idea to wander after soup kitchen rather than go straight back.

It was a cold night and one of the rare occasions that I didn't look forward to bedding down.
I put my scarf and balaclava on and put the roll mat down and the duvet on top of it, got into my old sleeping bag but the zip wouldn't work, I put the new sleeping bag on top of me, it wasn't really warm enough, I dozed until midnight and woke up needing a pee, had a pee and moved the duvet from under me to on top of me.

I was warm and slept well, my alarm clock made a half hearted attempt to wake me at some point but I was sleeping like a baby.
I woke warm and snug but feeling the heavy raindrops hitting my and landing all around me, poking my head out of the bedding pile I found that as well as big and ragged raindrops falling, there was a thick mist and it was freezing cold. The thick mist is great to hide in, but oh, the cold and the wet, the duvet was wet but the sleeping bags weren't too bad. I packed up and put the stove on for coffee, it was still early, too much time to kill, one of the curses of homelessness.
I have used my last coffee sachet.

I went into town and went to the loo, went to sit in the church, not hungry for my leftovers last night, this sore throat doesn't want me to eat.

Eventually it is time to go to the post office, they tell me my money hasn't arrived. Oh no, dealing with benefits office mistakes is the last thing I need today! I cannot get to the daycentre or get food or get my new passport without this money! I go to the benefits office but I stop at my new doctor surgery on the way, they have also had a glitch in registering me, just what I don't need, fortunately it gets sorted and I am seeing a nurse later.
Off to the benefits office, they are actually very helpful, I will have my payment in a few hours.

It is freezing and foggy.

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