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, 16 April 2013

The old blog was better, peeps, I was just looking through was very exciting.
I just found out that the former Bishop who destroyed me had a stroke a year ago. He and his decided to judge, condemn and destroy me instead of leaving me to God's judgement, and maybe  God answered him about that.
I didn't know that until this week because of the whole uproar and apologies in the paper and things, but I was looking through the old blog to see what I was doing a year ago.
There is nothing about vengeance prayers, but the person who appeared in my dreams and asked where I was on April 10th last year was one of the three people, including this Bishop who has damaged me the most..

Here is the blog extract from april 10th 2012:

Yesterday after McD's and some bin raiding I went to sit in church for a minute.

Then I phoned the daycentre and wailed miserably to them about having no bus money and that my clothes stank and my other clothes and bedding were soaking wet and my boots were on their last legs and I was tripping over the soles.

The daycentre staff conferred and said they were so short staffed that they couldn't pick me up, they said they would ring me back.
They rang back and asked if I had the bus fare to get there and they would reimburse me, I told them I had no money at all.
They said they would ring me back.
They rang me back and said that if I hurried to the bus station one of the staff would be there also waiting for the bus and she would get me a day ticket.

I scuttled in the direction of the bus station, as I scuttled and old lady fell over accross the road and no one noticed, I sprinted on all my bad legs and helped her up as she seemed unable to get up at all, she was pouring blood from a cut on her head, she must have hit her head.
Physical contact is not my thing but I held her up and put a tissue to the head wound and held it there, someone else took the lady's other arm and I picked her bag up and we helped her to the medical centre, which happened to be her doctor's surgery, and mine, the tissue was soaked with blood and and soemone got another one, there was blood everywhere, including on me, I can understand why Doc Martin gets sick at the sight of blood now, I felt sick, we sat the lady down and medical staff came to help her, she was dizzy, I hope they got an ambulance and got her to A&E, I bet they did. Afterwards I thought maybe she was on aparin or warfarin which would explain why there was so much blood.
Anyway, I scuttled very fast to get to the bus station in time, the daycentre lady grabbed me and we leaped aboard the bus. I scrubbed the blood off me with handwash gel.

At the daycentre they gave me clean socks and pants and I put some of my things in the washing machine and had a shower, then I went to get my other wet and dirty clothes and sleeping bag and put them in the wash.
I had a good lunch and lots of tea and sat and read while my washing cooked and my netbook charged.
I ended up staying until closing time, then I went back into town with all my heavy washing, went to the chattery shop, they had a pair of men's leather boots in my size, not ideal but better than the stinking disintegrating ones that I was wearing, they let me have these on credit because they know me and they didn't think I could go on walking in the boots I was wearing.

So here I was, all clean and in new boots, happy bunny.

I was getting tired from lack of sleep though, bin raiding only turned up a hot drink.

Two homeless men came past and asked if I had any change, I politely said no, and as they went on one said to the other 'she's homeless too, didn't you see her looking in the bin?', he replied 'I thought she was putting something in it'.

I went in church and dozed off with my book, the younger Father came to lock up and said hello. Then I went bin raiding, these new boots are rigid leather, not ideal as the tendons in my leg don't move the foot properly and the soft webbing walking boots encourage the foot to move, while the rigid leather keep the foot rigid and so it hurts like hell.  I also cannot put my orthotics in these boots as they are too narrow, but at least my ankle is supported. And at least I am wearing strong waterproof footwear that is not tripping me up.

The temperature shot down to freezing very quickly and I put my thermal top on, I came across Roar sitting with the bullying female immigrant, Roar roared hello to me and I went to chat, he handed me a delicious ham sandwich and rattled on about football and badminton and golf and alcohol, oh, it's tuesday night, drink and drugs night for some people, including these two.
For me it was just nice to see a familiar face and have a natter, and a sandwich!

It was cold though and my legs wouldn't hold me, so I told Roar that I was going to sit in the bus station, he told me not to catch a bus by accident.

Soon it was soup kitchen time, and that was good, well, lots of hot tea is very welcome on a bitter cold night, I also had crisps and chocolate and some cheese and pickle sandwiches, I do not like pickle but there was no choice.

The signs of it being drugs night were very obvious in the usual suspects, including Roar. I could see that by the time late night outreach came there would be all kinds of uproar.

After soup kitchen I just had an hour's wait for the bus and then I went to my friends' house and kipped down in their conservatory.

I slept for 11 hours and dreamed lots of whacky dreams.
I dreamed that my friend who died last year was alive and determined to have a baby, she was lining up surrogate mothers and having HRT.
I also dreamed I was on a very long escalator and realised it had stopped, I felt sick looking down this static escalator and I walked down carefully and tried to step over the electrical wires which were jumbled everywhere on the floor.
The other dreams were jumbled but someone I used to know popped into my dreams to ask where I was, she does this a lot at the moment, I am not sure why. I told her I was at King's Lynn. Hehe. Always tell people you are at King's Lynn.

My friend gave me a lift into town, my bin raids have come to nothing so far and I have survived on coffee morning coffee and the remains of the chocolate I got from soup kitchen last night. Soup kitchen was busy last night or I would have got more food to save.

The abcess in my jaw has returned, I am hoping it will get bored and wander off, but I may need to wait till next week and see my dear sweet dentist lady so she can put antibiotic paste in it.

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