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, 27 September 2012

moving day

Hi Bloggypeeps,

Well here goes.
Last night at my friend's house I was watching my DVD's until late and then I had the big task of sorting out all my things.  People have been very generous and I have ended up with a lot of food and posessions, but I cannot carry a lot, so I give my friends a lot of things to keep or take to the charity shop, they also kindly agree to return my library books to the library.

Then it is bed time but I am scared of settling down in case I have flashbacks and because I am quite short of breath, I have been for a few days despite using my inhalers.
Eventually I do settle to sleep, and I sleep ok until my alarm clock yells that it is time to get up, I shush it and advise it that I need a little bit more snooze.
Then I get up and scramble to the loo and grab my bags, I now only have my big backpack and a bag with a sleeping bag in it, my sort out last night was quite effective.

I get my wash kit and have a quick wash and change my clothes, my friend washed my clothes yesterday and I had a bath, so I am all squeaky clean;
 my friends aren't up yet, so I plug my netbook in with it's wonderful new power cable, and I do my internetting.

My friends get up, my friend makes me some tea and toast and then it is time to go, I say goodbye to one friend and the other friend takes me to the railway station.

I get my ticket and wait 20 minutes for the train.
I get the train and it is quiet and there is a corner for me and my bags in the corridor, no one disturbs me and I am relieved and grateful. I hate this particular train service, it is a small train and can be crowded, is always hot and usually I feel a bit trapped, despite my usual love for trains.
We stop for a while because of a late running train needing priority, but apart from that the journey goes smoothly and we arrive.

Maybe God likes me for helping a disabled woman up the steps with her bags, because I have a very peaceful walk through a usually crowded area and straight into an empty waiting lift, then I cross the bridge, go down the escalators and onto a bus very easily, this interchange is usually a busy crowded nightmare but I am straight onto the bus and away.

I arrive at the daycentre, there is a pile of post waiting that hasn't been redirected, some of it is unneedful hassle and annoyance but there are letters from the hospital asking me to book to be re-scoped ( a repeat gastroscopy to see how my insides are doing :( ).

Gastroscopies are not my favourite way of spending a day :( but I phone and make an appointment for a few weeks time, should have done it before.
I do like the staff at the clinic who do the gastroscopies, they are nice and pleasant and I can communicate easily with them.

Then I have a shower at the daycentre and the staff chat to me and get me a delicious meal of mild curry with rice and naan bread and a cup of tea.

My friend is there, he used to be a client here, he used to be on the streets with me, but now he works here, and it is funny to hear him ask me how I am from his postion as a volunteer rather than as a fellow street-dweller. He introduces me to the only other client there, a depressed-looking lad, and tell the lad 'This lady is a real homeless traveller!'

I ask the receptionist how two of my other friends are doing, she says that one of them is now housed and doing well and the other is the same cheeky intelligent street-dweller that he always was and she likes him.

The daycentre has had severe funding cuts and funding difficulties and they are running a very restricted service, clients can only come here for specific help now, and they have to pay for food unless they are rough sleepers, it must be hard for the staff to see the daycentre so restricted that they have to turn people away unless they need specific help.

Anyway, I leave, and the staff tell me to let them know when I am leaving the area so that they wont worry about me.
I run accross the road and manage to catch a bus immediately but it is very crowded, the bus service here is not brilliant, they tend to run late and get too crowded. So I stand most of the way.
I get into town in time to dash back accross the interchange, and again it is quiet and I get to the station with no stress and get my ticket.
I got a cup of tea at the little kiosk where I used to get my tea, but when I put it down to get my ticket in the station, I forgot it :(

I am on the platform in time for my train and off we go again.

Again I have a surprisingly easy journey, this is the same awful train route but today I get to put my bags in the rack and sit in the disabled area in peace, I am falling asleep by the time we arrive.

Normally when I arrive in this town I immediately feel conflicting emotions of love and annoyance.
Today I don't feel much at all, and no-one blows smoke over me like they usually do, which helps.
People in this town are very gregarious and also they walk much too close to other people, it is an agrophobic person's nightmare, but it is also one of my homes.

Anyway, I continue to be surprised by the lack of irritation and I get the bus up the hill and go to the post office, I am having a lucky day because in the big and busy post office I am only 5th in the que.

I get some money and wander down to the 'old chap' s hotel, the old chap opens the door and looks surprised and then friendly 'your usual place is available' he mutters amiably.

My usual place is a little self contained unit in the back yard, I have stayed there sometimes in illness, crisis or bad weather on and off for years.
I am staying there tonight in order to sort myself out and orientate myself while I check what's going on in the homeless world.
Staying here has caused huge flashbacks and distresses in the past, just due to being indoors, but I am getting better and it is sensible to occasionally stay here.
I check the shower floor, no it is not mended, I wonder when it will break and I will end up in the drain :)

I sit down and unpack and try to sort my poor feet out a bit, I have several cups of tea, oh good, he has got better tea bags. I used to bring my own because the ones here were so bad.

I check my emails, the man who helps me with my walking has replied to my query email and says he has an appointment available tomorrow afternoon. Good, I need that help, I am achy, I wonder if he can advise me about the swelling on my leg, it aches and is a mystery.

I go out and walk into town, I see a few people who I know vaguely but it is very quiet compared to usual, usually I come here braced for someone to shout me over as soon as I leave the station, as I said, this town is dead gregarious.

I walk towards my friend's art gallery, expecting a possible cup of tea, she usually does me a huge mug of tea and we put the world to rights.
But when I get there she is struggling out the door with a bike and a load of parcels, so I grab the door and hold it.
She exclaims my name a bit startled, and tells me she is closing early as she has an appointment.
Oh, no tea.
She tells me that she and a friend are having a party at the gallery tomorrow evening, and she wants me to be there.
'oh', I say 'Is there washing up or something I can help with?' I ask.
But she just wants me to be there.
I don't normally go to 'adult' type parties, ie alcohol, music and dancing. I am too childlike, I prefer jelly and ice cream or food parties, well maybe the party tomorrow will have a buffet.
I have no party clothes, but they all know I am homeless, so if they want me there then they will be ok  with my clothes.

Dammit, I just arrived here and I have a party to go to, whatever next? :)

My friend tells me she will be at the gallery as normal from midday tomorrow so I can have my cup of tea.

So off she goes, and off I go, I walk onto the square and there is someone I half expected to see.
'I thought you hated this town' I say to him.
He grins and waits for his friend to go and get him a coffee, while his dog hoovers it's supper.
'My brother came out of prison and I had to scram and the Big Issue in my town closed down' is his excuse.

He is a travelling homeless man, lives a similar life to me but with a dog. But just as I am always drawn back here despite getting irritated by this place, he is too.

I tell him I am off to the library.
'will you be back for the soupie?' he asks. ( soup kitchen)
'Has it got any better?' I ask.
'No, it hasn't' says his friend.
'I may come back just for the aggro then' I tell them.

The library is every agarophobic's nightmare normally, but today it is surprisingly quiet, it is a good library despite the crowds, and the book selection is excellent.
I pick up a book and go to the desk and ask if they can renew my temporary card but they tell me it still has some life in it, which surprises me, when was I last here? I can't remember.

I log on and read my book as well as typing, just as I used to, and watch the big sky outside turn dark with the dusk as I remember it doing a year ago as this town began to heal me.

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