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:

Sunday, 21 October 2012

I managed a thorough wash in the disableds without obstructing anyone, I even managed to wash my hair a bit and scrub my neck and nails, I hate having dirty neck and nails and greasy hair.
I sat in McD's for a few hours and drank tea and struggled to get the internet to work.
Then I had the choice of soup kitchen, which I really should have gone to, and church.

I went to church, in a way it was a mistake.
This was a different church from this morning, and they were all old but very mixed, some refused to accept I was homeless and decided to firmly believe that I was on holiday, some were nice and friendly and didn't get involved, but one was an absolute nightmare, the kind that decide that the homeless are a problem that they don't accept exist, and she decided I was 'to go somewhere' and that I was to be solved and not live my life and that I was the problem and wasn't interested in the circumstances or anything anyone tried to explain to her.
Narrow old ladies who gloss over and talk over are a problem I can do without, and every time I tried to talk to anyone else she would come along and butt in, poor narrow old lady.

Anyway, the other people were encouraging and trying to get me to come back, but the old lady wouldn't leave them to talk to me, I dont want to go back.

I went up the road and quickly fished a chicken leg out of a bin before the staff still at the supermarket saw me, and then I waited and went back and got another chicken leg and a bread roll out of the bin.
I have no idea what I can have for breakfast, but at least I have lunch arranged tomorrow.

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