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:

Saturday, 29 September 2012

Good morning bloggys.

Erm, it is hard to write because of the return of the dreaded spasms and shakes in my right hand and arm, it is hard to even hold my cuppa tea.

Well last night I went to the party, I didn't know what to expect but it was nice.
The big hall at the gallery was lit up with candles and lamps and the sodium heaters on the ceiling.

My friend greeted me and offered me a range of soft drinks including a cup of tea! I opted for a pepsi seeing as it is a party.

I drank the Pepsi too quickly as I was nervous, and my friend introduced me to other people including her friend who she shares a Birthday with and is sharing the party with.

Well it was my idea of a nice party, there was quietish music and there were films playing on a projector at one end of the hall.

People were mainly chatting in the bar area and it wasn't too crowded.
There was food but no-one was eating.
so when my friend offered me food I felt a bit embarrassed because no-one else was eating, she assured me that they would eat and then there would be none left for us, so we may as well get ours now.

So we sat and ate, french bread and prawns to start with, oh dear, I hadn't had prawns for years, not since my life was about rubbing shoulders with millionaires, and I said to my friend in a panic 'I've forgotten how to unlock a prawn!'. She cheerfully demonstrated.

It is funny how I am here while my fellow homeless are at soup kitchen. I have never had a normal conventional life, not even on the streets, I am not a conventional rough sleeper at all.

someone came to join us, he was Portugese, and there was lots of Portugese food available so he introduced me to a dish made of raw salted cod with garlic and olive oil. I never really got to eat Portugese food when I used to live among the Portugese, except Portugese loaf, which I liked, but I like this fish dish, tasty but very garlicky. There is Olive bread but no Portugese loaf.
The Greek community used to feed me Olive bread, it is not my favourite but it is good for you, so I ate some.

And the even continues quiet and sober, everyone chatting by the bar and a few of us eating food and laughing and chatting at a table. I only drink Pepsi all evening.

I was just wondering if another good friend of mine is going to turn up because she is a party animal and is friends with my friend, and as I think that, my friend says that our friend will be here at some point.
She is part of my church but she is such a party animal, legend has it that she had to be dragged out of a party one Christmas eve because she was supposed to be serving on the altar at midnight mass and had forgotten!

My friend and her husband arrive and sit with us, they catch up on my news and I catch up on theirs, she goes to get some food and her husband says to me 'do you know what this party is about?'
I reply that I think it is a Birthday party, he tells me it is more than that, that the gallery is possibly beginning to wind down, he points out how empty it is, I hope he is mistaken, the gallery is part of my life, but I know my friend has been struggling to keep it running, he says about the drinks licence, how the party will have to end at 10pm because the licence only allows up to 10pm.
I will have to go before 10pm anyway because my bags are only in the locker until 10pm.

The party remains sober and respectable, my good friend tells me that my other good friend will probably be on duty in church tomorrow, which is good because if I can see her then then I can be off on my way on Sunday rather than waiting for church, no offence to my church but I feel like heading on with my journey.

I leave the party at 9.30pm and thank my friend and her friends and she laughs and tells me to drop by for a cuppa tomorrow.

I go to Tesco and get some antacids and lozenges because I am reacting badly the food, I sick up a lot of the food and feel better. Then I get a cuppa at McD's and collect my bags and go to my porch.
I find two small cardboard boxes as a mattress, and I put my thermal top and new thermal leggings on and climb into my new sleeping bag, using my spare clothes as a pillow.
I am comfy and despite all the usual revellers going noisily past on the road nearby, I fall asleep.

I wake at 1.20 am, I was deaming that there were loads of drunk girls on the wall nearby.
I sleep again.
I wake at 3am and all the saved up distress and depression for a week comes crashing down on me, I knew it would, it has been looming, depression in the daytime from being indoors at night, I have kept squashing it but now it wins, I want my mummy, I want to be safe in mummy's arms, but I don't have a mummy, and I have never been safe in her arms.

The depression and despair are overwhelming, 3am is not a good time to be alone with flashbacks, it will all ease in the light of day and when I am surrounded by people, but for now it is like a tidal wave.

I leave my things and walk into town, there are drunk revellers everywhere. But no money and no stickers, I look for a bottle to fill with water as I am very thirsty, but I don't find anything.

I go back to my things, it is 4am, I find an orange in my bag and eat that, it helps a bit.

I phone the Samaritans, most times I don't bother because they want to talk about feelings and I am very distanced from my feelings because of my asperger syndrome, I explain to the lady that I cannot talk about feelings very well but that I need to talk to disrupt the distress so that I can sleep again, she is perfectly helpful and tries to understand, and finally I lie down to try to sleep again, with only 45 minutes before my alarm clock is due to yell.

Oh the sky is beautiful and clear, the stars sparkle and I am pleased to be in my porch, my bed is perfectly warm and comfortable but I am still too tense to sleep. The sky may be clear but it is a mild night.
I think 'well at least I slept a bit, and I can snooze at the gallery later maybe'.

I do some exercises, press ups and sit ups, and other obscure army ones, I surprise myself, I can do them. But maybe this is what set the silly shaking in my arm and hand off.

The sky in the east is glowing brilliantly with the dawn and the sky is lightening so that the buildings are silhouetted against it, beautiful.

There is no 24 hour McD's in this town, so I head for McD's for 6am, I expect a whole heap of drunks to be waiting for the doors to open but actually there are just three and I end up second in the que and get my cuppa.

Here I am, and tea hour at the market starts in less than 10 minutes, so I will stash my bags and go to tea hour.

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