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:

Tuesday, 3 April 2012

The weather is absolutely terrible for sleeping out, so I have parked myself at the bed and breakfast again.
My room, my home from time to time, the place where I am left alone but I have terrible distresses. Comfortable and familiar, a place where I always intend to do some writng and sort out my blog but I don't get anything done.
There is limitless tea but I bring my own teabags as the teabags are daycentre style, horrible.

I am comfortable here out of the weather, though I dd just walk up the road to post a letter to my old pals at the mission, who I long ago stopped struggling to walk to see because it was too far and it wasn't working.
I like bad weather but I need sleep, more than ever I need sleep, I get so tired and so overwhelmed by the flashbacks.

I found several good monopoly stickers earlier, two hot drinks ones and a sugar donut one, all for the collection.

I am worried about that rough sleeping female I met the other morning, she is sleeping near one of my sleeping places and begging for change, not good for me.

Patrick is going to stay here in chavtown, it is a time of endings and uncertainty and here is where our hearts were.

Goodbye Giraf.

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