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, 25 June 2016

Opera, pillars of fire, lightning

I wrote the Opera article earlier this week:


I don't want to eclipse the latest revelation of the depth of John Cameron of the NSPCC's evil and corruption, but people are asking me to at least say something about my daily life again. What can I say? I am sitting here in the stupor that is preventing me from taking vital action about making sure I am secure in a new home. I can't even get myself to shower or fill in vital paperwork. Paperwork seems silly when you have been senselessly publicly destroyed.

We went to the Opera the other night. Glyndebourne House doing live Barber of Seville.
I thought the Barber of Seville was the one who singed the King of Spain's beard? No, apparently not.

Opera is an acquired taste, isn't it? I hear that wine is too, but I never developed a taste for alcohol, I think alcohol is only any use as a disinfectant, but it is cheaper to buy flash with bleach from the pound shop.

Anyway, I hated Madama Butterfly, but The Barber of Seville was great. I think the acting made the difference, they were all very good, and it was funny. Worth missing Hollyoaks for.
I really liked Figaro

I have to say, I liked Figaro, he was awesome, but the Count was also awesome, and the Doctor and the girl were also very good, so was the housekeeper, there was no bad acting or singing in this. It is funny in contrast to the MET, who were worse than a village hall for Madama Butterfly. I would love to see Glyndebourne's Barber of Seville again.
However, no one warned me that the Dean of Jersey got a role in this production! Don Basilio.

You know the funny thing about Opera, the audience is mainly fat old Anglicans and Catholics - you can tell the difference because the Catholics genuflect to the screen before going to their seats! :) But there the two of us are, two autistic academics, discussing environmental science before the programme starts.

Anyway, it was a late night, not ideal while moving home and fighting for my life. I do not see how I can avoid a relapse with what I am trying to do at the moment, and there is no way I can afford a relapse right now.

Triggers of relapse - over-expenditure of limited energy, stress, dentist, travel, tiredness and lack of sleep.
Now all of the above apply. I have been out late at Opera, I have shifted heavy loads of stuff, I have had to travel quite a bit, used all my money, got too tired, and tomorrow I have dentist, he is going to try crowning my tooth. So I may relapse, which will be a disaster within the week I am trying to get a roof over my head.

The Last Day:

Recently I don't want to wake up and do the papers, but it is a tragedy that I have to give up doing them because the Church of England lost me my home.

So this is the last day, two days after the stupid polling station made it hard for me to deliver the papers to the flats, and a day after the EU referendum result and Prime Minister's resignation were on the news as soon as I got home from doing the papers.
It has been a strange week, no doubt about that. Some of the week can't be recorded here, as usual due to risk to me from the church and their authorities if they are able to trace me.

This morning I wake feeling tired, reluctant to get up, but not in great pain, but considering the ordeal of the dentist yesterday after a morning of hard work and also some heavy house moving work, it is amazing I am in as fit condition as I am. Normally I would have relapsed with all this.
I am not in relapse.
Those of you who don't know how poor people move from one small tenancy to another, we don't get a big removal van and move on the day, we move bit by bit without a removal van.

Anyway, I fell sleepily out of bed this morning, I don't like waking up because of the church. I went to the shop and we went through the motions of saying goodbye before I sorted the papers and headed out.
It has always been an awkward round, and in a way I don't mind that it is over, trying to safely do the papers along the main roads isn't fun, and trying to do an about turn for the second half of the round is no fun, the steps on the lower slopes of the Great Hill is no fun. Oh well, it got me up and out of nightmares and it earned a living.
I can't afford food today because I have to get a man to move my bed today. Haha, it's the only time a man goes near my bed! Lets keep it that way.

I have a slight problem that I have to move some furniture this morning without eating, my blood sugar may drop too low, and although I have tea, I have no sugar. No-one here is better off, my neighbour owes me money because I made sure he had money for food the other week and he still came round and asked if I could help him with food yesterday, he goes hungry a lot too but he doesn't get hypoglycemia, so he is marginally better off than me.

Anyway, the papers were done by 7.25 this morning, I was always the stand-in if paperboys and girls were off sick, so in the end I only had my round to do. I see the other shop are yet again looking for cover for the rural routes that I used to do, it is not an easy task.
My new landlord is one person I have been delivering papers to for so long, never knowing he would become my landlord!

So the paper round days are over. I am not at all sure that is a good thing but life is life. So far no-one will stop the Church of England taking my life and living from me. Nothing I own or do is safe from them.
My blood sugar level is already too low.

Max the Lion:

It was sad but I wouldn't have got Florence through her MOT.
I can't really do the kind of work I do without a car and in an area where buses are bad and expensive.
So I contacted the car's best friend about Florence's younger brother, Max, he was reluctant to sell but he had always planned on selling Max as he had too many cars and Max had been an unexpected extra that he had grown rather attached to. I had always had first refusal on Max, so we agreed a price but at the time he didn't think he could do anything about Florence.
However, he changed his mind and said he would assess Florence and we would make decisions.

When it came the time to swap cars, I was feeling very bad because of the church and I didn't want to test drive Max. To make it worse, his clutch and brakes are so sharp that I kept stalling him, and I was so nervous I was driving really messily.
When we got back, the car's best friend drove Florence off into the sunset and I sat there with Max, feeling stupid. I just wanted Florence.

I moved Max round into Florence's parking space, and then everyone appeared out of hiding.
'Oh, you've got a new car!' They said, as if they hadn't been waiting there knowing very well.

It was a very comforting moment as everyone inspected Max and talked to me. They have no idea how much it helped.
It was like a big event, because Florence is well known, she is a character and is well liked, no-one wanted her scrapped.
Well I was so reluctant to drive Max, but I had no choice, the deal was done, and I realised that part of the problem was that Max was the same make and Model as Anna, the tragic Jersey car, and I haven't been able to process what happened in Jersey so it still affects me.

Anyway, I made myself drive Max, and very soon I was OK with him.
He is not a character, he is a steady plodder, he is not like Florence or Anna.

Anyway, the first verdict on Florence was that she would pass an MOT with a bit of work, but before a more thorough inspection was carried out, someone asked to buy her!
Florence rolls nortily into her 25th year of life, cheerfully spitting parts everywhere, with a new owner. She didn't make me much money, but it is amazing that she is staying on the road and made me any money at all!
Florence was all spark and fire, loved and full of character, Max is a plodding Fell Pony, no spirit, but he picks up speed very quickly without me noticing, so I have to be careful.

Max's New House Adventures:

Well it was evening by the time the negotiations on the flat were completed. Friday evening. I was tired and I wanted Hollyoaks and bed.
I headed towards home, the one road that winds round the Great Hill. Unfortunately towards the bottom of the hill there had been a crash, an ambulance and an upside down car, flashing lights and all.
So I turned in the road and headed back up the hill, Max's petrol light went on, he can run a long way on empty, I know that from Anna and Florence, Peugeots do run a long way on empty, one of the reasons I only have peugeots :)
Still, how was I going to get home? There is no other direct route, and the other road was closed down with the road dug up. I was stumped.
No Wifi, but somehow an email came through from a contract gardener about some work he will share with me. But no way of looking up traffic and travel, and nothing on the radio, the Great Hill obliterates the signal.

I sit for a while and see if the crash road has re-opened, no it hasn't. I am a short drive from home but there is no way through, it is late and I am tired.
The road doesn't re-open that night.
I try to get through on a country lane, but no joy, on the way I meet a lady who has lost her dogs, apparently she was out seeing to the horses, and the dogs got out of the paddock, it brings back memories. We didn't find the dogs and I still can't get home. I guess she found the dogs later, it is not easy to lose dogs permenantly.

In the end people are being told how to get through, a very long drive indeed just to get to a place only a few miles away normally.
Max holds out with the petrol warning light on as we limp home. He plods steady and unfussed, Fell Pony Car compared to Florence's Arabian Spark and nerves.

The Pillar of Fire:

I dropped a load of stuff at the new flat, the air was heavy and humid, horrible weather to move house in, sweating as I drag heavy objects around.
Then I turn Max round onto the cliff top in the gathering dusk.
Thunder rumbles and the clouds loom, a storm would be very welcome.

On the cliff, the sea is gloomy in the gathering dark and storm.
Lightning splits the sky far out as the sunset lights the edges of the cloud.
I notice something over towards the French Coast, it looks like a pillar of fire.

I realise that it is rather an amazing thing, a rainbow in the gathering dark, with the sunset reflecting on it. I have never seen anything like this before. It looks like a pillar of fire! Awesome.

I head back towards home, and the clouds break in torrents of rain. The thunder is crashing now and lightning splits the sky as Max races down the hill towards home. It is all so awesome that I pull over to enjoy the storm and the now cooler air.

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