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:

Friday, 4 September 2015

Friday evening

Good evening,

Well I have been busy and tired, hence not updating the blog.

On Wednesday I went to therapy, then I came home to wait in for the furniture.
The furniture arrived at about 2pm.

I was so tired once it arrived that I couldn't go out and work any more.
So I stayed in and did some furniture arranging and flat arranging until I was exhausted, watched my programmes and had an early night.

Thursday morning I went out in the van again, the routes made more sense but still a bit confusing.
Then I only had a quick breakfast break before work.

My first job of the day was mowing, planting, weeding etc. And that was all good.
Then I had a quick lunch at the garden centre and was surprised how busy it was.
Then I was on to the next job, garden clearance, I managed to get another sting in my hand, very similar to the last one.

The person who I was working for lent me a foam deck chair mattress because my new sofa bed has an uncomfortable ridge where the sofa folds into a bed. It helps a bit.

Anyway, after work yesterday I meant to get petrol and food on the way home but the supermarket petrol station was too busy and I was tired, so I didn't stop, I came home.

Unfortunately the council then closed our road completely so I couldn't get out for petrol if I wanted to, and my car's best friend had been due to come and change the belt on the car, but he couldn't get to us so it was rescheduled for Friday (this) evening.


I walked round to the local shop for food.

I slept reasonably well despite the council working outside all night.
I woke at 5.30 in the dark.
I headed out nervously, the first solo rural route, and I had to finish in time to collect Mum.

I stopped for petrol on the way, and got to the shop on time.
The lad at the shop was grinning as he showed me the huge piles of papers I had, because it is local paper day and that makes the rounds all at least twice as big and I have the rural routes and the bundle drops and the route along the edge of town and back towards home.

So, solo on a tricky route on a local paper day when my Mum would be waiting for me 8 miles away when I finished, if I finished!

I was OK, I got round just fine. OK the whole thing was stressful, but I managed it!
I headed off to get Mum, and was early enough to get a divine cup of coffee while I was waiting.
I think I like that cafe.

Well I had written Mum a kind of outline of the day, and it made her laugh because I was joking about a bit.
Unfortunately the day didn't go to plan, my shoulder was aching a lot and I was tired.

We went for the scenic drive home and refreshments at the viewpoint, that was nice.
Then home to see the flat, and Mum seemed to like it.
We had a cuppa, but then plans fell apart a bit.
Housing benefit sent me an unhelpful letter, as they tend to on Fridays.
And I was so stressed by that that I wrote to them while Mum had a rest.

We were going to go the cafe but we didn't and I was so unsure about the local attraction that we didn't go, we went to another viewpoint and had refreshments.
And in the end we went to the council offices, and it was getting so close to the time that I was due to have the car worked on that Mum offered to get the bus home, I felt sad that I had not been able to give her the nice day out that she had hoped. But she said it was OK and there was always next time.
To me, in a world in fear of the Diocese and their police and the hatred they have stirred against me, each time I see my friends or therapist or anyone feels like it could be the last one, so I hope next time will happen and Mum and I can have a better day.

The car has had it's new belt fitted and I have had a few things checked and advised on, and now I am watching my programmes and preparing for another early night.

I have most of the weekend free apart from the papers, so I will be able to do the laundry and study and sort things out in the flat.

I guess when I get used to the earlier starts and when the clocks change and when my shoulder heals, life will not seem like exhausted painful hell so much.

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