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, 2 October 2012

Good morning bloggypeeps,

Well last night I staggered up the long steep road to my previous sleeping place, deciding that I would at least stay in that area for the moment.
There were people in the building by where I sleep and I wondered if they had discovered that I slept there, but I realised they just rent a room there on a Monday night, so I moved into the shelter of a nearby porch (too exposed to sleep in) and waited.
They had gone by 10pm, and I wandered over to bed down.
sadly the sleeping bag I had been given turned out to be a child's sleeping bag, and so I was a tad stumped by that.
the ground was wet, and I had no cardboard, so I unzipped the little sleeping bag and used it as a gound sheet, and put the wool blanket over me and tried to sleep.
The students have not long started back at University and they were noisily motoring up and down most of the night, it looked like the older students were showing the new students how to spend their grant money on drink, so it was a tad noisy but not unbearable, basically that kind of noise doesn't stop me sleeping, though sudden shrieks sometimes do wake me up.

The ground was too wet, and the sleeping bag was wet, the wool blanket was not enough cover in itself, and I dozed and woke up shivering and cramped in my little corner.
I am really struggling to breathe, and I have lost my cough medicine and clove oil, so I take my inhalers.

I usually have emergency blankets in my bag, the refective foil things, useless and ineffective in any wind and very hard to hold onto and keep round you, but I pulled one of them out of my bag and wrapped it round me and then put the wool blanket on top. Blissful warmth, I desparately need sleep.
I drift off into sleep and wake every hour to turn over and re-adjust, but apart from that I sleep undisturbed until 5am, it was due to rain at 5am but it is not raining, I lie there and doze, the foil blanket has stayed round me and is warm but also wet from perspiration, they always end up like that.

I had one dream that I remember, I dreamed that some of my 'friends' from one church were being scornful about my hospital appointment and telling me that I am not dying as I sat on the ground coughing and scratching my skin off. Very negative, and they would never talk to me like that in real life, they are nice people.

I get up and sort myself out into one backpack and a bag for the blanket and one for the sleeping bag, and I water the drain.
It is 5.40am when I move out. I dump the sleeping bag in a nearby commercial waste skip.
I start walking but I am walking slow, my foot is infected and I am coughing a lot, at least I am coughing up and my system is clearing and my temperature is going down.
The nurse in London told me to keep taking my reliever inhaler when I am like this.

It takes me an hour to get into town, and I am grateful that it doesn't rain.
I use the last of my money for a cuppa at McD's.

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