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

Well after my four hour nap I was thirsty so I went and sourced some apple juice and a cup of tea.
Then I went and collected my big backpack from storage.

Then I came back to the hostel and chose a nice big shower cubicle with a proper door and plenty of space, and I had a nice soapy shower, I army dried myself while using my big travel towel as a nice bath mat, and then I wandered back to read my book for a while, then it was time for soup kitchen.

Soup kitchen was good, no milky coffee but plenty of sandwiches and coffee and soup.
The staff are very caring, they don't hide in a van or behind a stall here, they get out and care, and the homeless people are as polite and friendly as before.
One of the homeless has heard that I was in the other town and he comes and talks to me as that is where he is from.

Another homeless man is very drunk and unsteady, and the staff tend kindly to him.
The staff ask if I sleep by the canal and I tell them that I associate canal camps with one of my fellow homeless being set fire to and burned to death so I never sleep by canals.
The drunk man catches a few words of what I said and he staggers over and asks if I was burned, I say no it was someone else who got burned, the drunk guy shows us his arm and hand and tells us how he rescued a baby from a house fire and how his arm and hand had to be reconstructed.
He recieved a medal and met the queen.

The streets are full of forgotten heroes, I know another very ill and alcoholic homeless man who ended up brain damaged and epileptic when he jumped in front of a car to rescue a child who was about to be hit, he was an ex-soldier as well.

Anyway, there is a reason that homeless people sleep by canals but I think I had better not share it. I never will sleep near a canal.

The soup run people are very nice to me and one of them is an ex-social worker who understands trauma and that I need psychological help rather than any other form of intervention.

So I toddle back to the hostel via a brisk walk round and round the block, just because that is how I feel.
The beggars here are not aggressive or annoying, they wave to me and say 'hope your night goes ok'.
I am dead impressed with this town and both the homeless and the outreach, I have been in hell with regards to homeless community for some time and it is good to know that there is still good homeless community left.

Back in the hostel I return to my book. WiFi is bad upstairs so I have popped down here for a bed time hot chocolate and to update the blog, now I am going upstairs to do some writing of my book and to do some reading, sort my backpack out and possible sleep somewhere among those tasks.

Goodnight moon, goodnight Jan, goodnight eyupmiducks, goodnight friends and bloggypeeps.

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