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, 4 October 2012

Good morning bloggyshapedpeeps,

Last night I got four books out of the library, then I headed for the soup run,
I had been told that it was in 'the car park opposite the backpacker hostel' which sounds simple but there are four sides of the backpacker hostel and three car parks opposite it on different sides.

I am wrong on the first car park but the second one reveals the usual suspects skulking in the shadows, and within minutes a soup run appears.

I am extremely impressed with the soup run, there is complete calm, no shoving and grabbing, people walk round handing out sandwiches, fruit, chocolate and crisps, there is plenty of space and the only thing you have to go to the table for is coffee and soup, there are no ques or squabbles.

I am amazed to find that they do 'proper coffee' -all milk coffee or milky coffee as it is called on the market, known in coffee shops as 'latte', I adore milky coffee and no one knows it because I am known as a tea addict, milky coffee is my secret favourite but I can't drink much of it as it can upset my insides.
I have never known a soup kitchen to do milky coffee before. I enjoy a few cups of coffee and there is no hassle, no que, everyone is very quiet and calm.

A volunteer comes up and says he hasn't seen me here before, so I tell him I am new, I also tell him this is a very calm and nice soup kitchen, he tells me it can be busier but one church is doing a four course meal for the homeless.
an old homeless woman who I have never met before comes over to me and says 'are you coming up the slope, they do tea and cake there', I am puzzled because the soup kitchen do tea and cake anyway', the woman bustles off and I wonder what she meant, but the volunteer comes back and explains, he tells me that there is a church gathering in a room up the slope and they come and invite the homeless and they do tea and cake and worship.
Wow, what a lot there is on offer for the homeless in this town! I am surprised because it is a small town and also I knew none of this when I was here briefly before.

The minister comes down and talks to me and sends me up the slope to meet his wife where the church are gathering, I explain to him that I am ill and can't stay long as I need to go to the shelter and sleep. He says they will pray for me before I go.
I go into the church room and meet the minister's wife, and she makes me a cuppa, there is plenty of cake but I was well fed at soup kitchen and even took away enough for a meal tomorrow.

There is opening prayer when the minister comes back, I am sitting with the old homeless lady and she makes a fuss of me, then the minister and other gather round and pray for me, and then we have some lovely worship hymns and then I slip away to collect my backpack and go into the shelter, there is a homeless man in the shelter who asks how my day was, he asks my name and then he goes round the room shouting the men's names out to me and telling them my name.

I have another lot of hot and cold and breathlenessness and I have a cup of tea and settle to sleep.
Unlike earlier I am now wide awake and more energetic and cannot settle to sleep so easily, but eventually I sleep.

I dream that I am dead, there is a coffin and I am simply not existing any more, my family turn up, vague and troubled as usual, then they tell me that it was a mistake, I was dead but they realised from me having surgery on the wrong arm that I was not actually dead so they had me revived.
Nice of them to trouble.
I woke up baffled by the dream and wandered out to the loo. It is getting up time, on the dot, and I get some tea and toast and then head out.

I feel weak and all the infection is coming out of my lungs so I cough up a lot, and bring some breakfast up with it.
I sit and read my book and then I have my wash and put my backpack in storage, I go to the station to enquire ticket prices, and I go to the post office for money and phone credit, my text messaging service wont work so I phone my friend who sent a text saying she was concerned for me, I tell her I am ok and that I had no credit and was ill and had a dead phone etc and I tell her I will see her on Saturday.

Then I wander in here to the library to update you.
My next moves are to book train tickets and to go in daycentre1 and eat and drink things.

It is a bright morning sunshine with small clouds.

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