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, 10 June 2014

Tuesday Morning

Good morning,
Well last night I did a lot of writing, as you can see.
It was hard to sleep, very hot and I was all lively from writing.
I was also watching Bruce Almighty as I wrote. Haha, I liked the bees.

I am awake all sleepy, but I had one hell of a nightmare.

I dreamed I was in court, and the court simply could not or would not explain a thing to me, over and over again I tried to tell them I didn't mean to be bad and had been hurting and reacted, but no-one could hear me,  and they tried to make me go into court and I wouldn't because I didn't understand, and so I walked away and they said it didn't matter because it was the initial hearing and I had to be there for sentencing,
so I went away and walked and saw the police and thought they would get me and I was a fugitive and I was bad, so I went back to the court, and the clerk was speaking to me over some screaming children and I couldn't hear a word and the people at the desk wouldn't help and I was confused and I said I would go again and then I wouldn't know if I was mean to be in prison or fined or what, so I did.
Then the dream was about my old landlady and her family, they were on the beach and one of them had become a mormon (not a freemason, oh good), they included me in the family as they used to, but I knew in my dream I was not who I used to be, so I wandered off.
Then I got a message from Bob Hill in my dream, saying that I deserved misery.

Dreams are a good way of  continuing the flogging that the Church of England normally eagerly provide.

I am sitting in my daychair in pyjamas, I need to get my cuppa, wash, and sort myself out and go to the drop-in.

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