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:

Saturday, 6 April 2013

Hi peeps,
I went to church last night because the priest said I could sit in during choir practice and that I could wash my hair in the loos.
It got worrying because an aggressive drunk man followed me into church and the priest got rid of him after talking to him.

I washed my hair and read a book and sat and had a cuppa.
Then when the church closed I went out for my walk, and came back and went to sleep in my blankets in the corner under the starry sky.

I woke peaceful and comfortable at 7am and wondered if I would stay in bed.

I got up and had a quick breakfast at McD's, quick because there was an annoying workman getting too close.

Then I went for a walk.
The wading bird had his back to me with his head in a drain and when I said hello he grumped and went back to sleep.

My friend had texted me the previous night and asked if she could come up to meet me, and I decided that now was the time for me to cross a great barrier.
For a long long time now I have been unable to just go to her, and the times I have been to stay with her she has had to smuggle me home and have me in secret. Now that things have changed, I should be able to go there without fear.

So when she phoned me this morning I asked if I could come to meet her instead of her coming to me, and I asked if we could visit my deceased friend's grave together.
She said yes, and so I caught the train.

we met at the station and it was a great and triumphant moment when I stepped onto the ground of my home city, the city with the star above it.
We drove the few miles to the church yard, I was nervous in case I had to face any of my old friends. But there was no-one, there was silence and no one near.
We walked to the memorial stones of the cremated and I found my old friend's headstone and knelt to greet her and we stood there for a minute.
I walked with my friend and showed her the other graves and told her the memories.
Then my friend stood at my old friend's grave and said a rosary while I tidied the graves of other old friends.
My deceased friend's grave was deserted and abandoned, which surprised me, she was so popular and lively and loved in life, but now her grave is untended and without the flowers that she loved so much, just some long-dead plants.
My friend suggested that we went and got some flowers and I agreed.
This was a tremendous time for me, I had not seen my deceased friend's headstone before because I was driven from her by the church of England when she was dying and had been separated from her and forced to flee the area. But now I can come back, now I can be here.

My friend and I drove down the old familiar lanes and up the beautiful and fast highway t othe small town by the river, we enjoyed a pot of tea and we got a picnic and some flowers.
We went back to lay the flowers on my deceased friend's grave.
We laid the flowers and walked through the silent deserted yard and over to the empty house. I showed my friend the bay tree that I had planted long years ago when it was tiny and now is a huge tree and I showed her the hedge I planted, now tall and wild, and I told her many stories of this and that to do with my life here.

See the bay tree 
how big it's grown
but friend it hasn't been that long
it wasn't big 
you laughed at me and I got mad
the first day that I planted it
was just a twig

Now my life's an empty stage
where Bonnie lived and Bonnie played
and love grew up
and Bonnie I miss you...

Everything was silent, no one around for miles and we walked quietly as I continued to recall, we sat in the meadow in the sun and enjoyed our picnic and I continued to remember.
We had a lovely peaceful time.

And again the past and the future are merging, and the hurts are fading.

Eventually it was time to go, we had sat in the sun for maybe an hour and been at peace, we said goodbye to my deceased friend's grave and walked back to the car, and my friend drove me back into the city and dropped me off.
I walked through my memories, harsh chilling and violent memories, memories of the horror and hurt caused by the church of England.
I walked through my home city and as if nothing else mattered I went and got a carton of juice and had a wash in the toilets and came to the library to go on my computer.

It is a bright warm day and this city is beautiful in the sun.
I never thought I would live to see the day.

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