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:

Wednesday, 5 February 2014

Wednesday Night

Good evening,
Well with all the washing drying and some almost dry. I decided I could go out, everything done here.
So I went and got the weekly bus card that my friends gave me money for, and went for a bus ride.

On the way back, the bus that did the long route and the one that did the short route were both in, and I was tired, so I thought I would get the short route one, which ended up being a scary adventure.

Some rowdy lads got on the bus, and I thought they were just noisy teenagers. But after a while, it became apparent it was more serious.

They started off upstairs, all thundered downstairs at some point, and then one thundered back upstairs, where I was sitting, and there was one other person up there, a young man with his headphones on.

Anyway, this one who had come back upstairs sat at the front where I was, I could tell he was drunk, and hoped he would behave, then he suddenly swore. It was not a calm or steady swear at all, it sounded crazed.
I looked at him, and realized he had blood all over his head, I wondered for a moment if it was paint, and realised that not only was it blood, but he had it all over his jacket and hands.
he wasn't just drunk, he was high,
and then two of his companions came tearing up the stairs.

One of them was hysterical and swearing at one of the others, someone phoned him, and he stopped swearing and started sobbing to whoever had phoned, and I realised his hands were covered in blood too, they all had blood on them.
The other passenger who was not with them got off, and I was alone on the top deck with these very volatile young men.
Then the sobbing one punched the bus's front window and broke it, but the driver seemed oblivious.

I was wary to move in case I attracted their attention, I don't look for trouble, but I was both concerned not to get involved and concerned that the window was broken and the driver needed to know because he could get into trouble if he didn't realise and report it.
I like bus drivers, because they trundle along and let me get on their buses and wander around, which is a Good Thing.

So, I told the driver, quietly, as he drove, but the lads came thundering downstairs, and those still downstairs joined them, the one who had been sobbing and broken the window was having utter hysterics by then and the driver let them all off the bus.
I stayed downstairs, and the driver had a look at the window and got my number because he had to do a report.
And then I went home.

Home, I have warm clean pyjamas and a freshly changed comfy bed, and no shortage of good food :)

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