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:

Monday, 7 November 2016


Good evening peeps,

I am coughing but at the moment no blood. Those of you who don't know what I mean about coughing blood, when I was first on the streets and Jane Fisher and the Scott-Joynts were abusing their power and slandering me round Winchester and further afield, I got sick, I was diagnosed with Asthma first, but it took another 18 months and increasing desperation before a locum doctor roundly cursed the doctors who had failed me and referred me to hospital, by the time I got to hospital and they put the tubes down my throat, I coughed blood clots. My easophogus or however the hell you  pronounce it, was raw, I had an ulcer as well and a hernia.

They were very good and they mended me well, but there is always a danger of it recurring and not only that, a risk of cancer, which with the autoimmune disease as well, is increased. I doubt very much that I have cancer and I have a feeling that rather than this being a repeat of the problems, it may just be a burst blood vessel, I have been short of breath and my lungs are a bit fluidy now, so it may be that a blood vessel burst and it just needs to clear.

I am moving house, yes, again, as you know, I said both here and in my book 'Coming Home' that this isn't going to work in the long term, and with increased noise from the neighbour and my terror of the police, I feel that the sooner the better is what I need. Once I have moved, I will also sadly have to change my name again, I do not like the police persisting in coming after me for my abusers, no matter what the excuse and in the two months since they first turned up, I have deteriorated and simply feel unsafe and afraid here, I have a lot of nightmares and I don't relax any more. The illusion of safety from before has shattered horribly and can never really be restored.
I keep hyperventilating. And since Friday, the flashbacks have been massive.

However, I was surprised to wake at 5.30 this morning, free from pain and able to get up despite the depression and distress, I got up, showered, dressed, had breakfast and cooked myself a lunch tub meal, I don't normally cook a lunch tub, but I had nothing for sandwiches and no spare cash.
I set of for work in the early dark, hair uncombed and couldn't find a band for it, hadn't done my meds, wasn't in work shirt or boots, but I got to work half an hour early and sorted myself out as everything is still in the car from the weekend.

It was bitterly cold today, the wind was arctic, and you know me, I am usually alright with the cold. but it was bitter. There were just two of us again and I was trying to do all the mowing and the mower was playing up, so it was very hard.
What I was surprised by was that I was functioning, I was working, I was acting as if the world is alright, when I don't feel that way at all.

We got through the day despite the cold, but I have had to wear earplugs as the noise was so horrendous from upstairs, he has got so much worse and I can't cope with it, and because of that and the police and the way I am just not coping and lashing out at everyone, I need to move home.  I feel awful, I feel more awful when I lose my temper. I don't want to lose my life or liberty or even my new name, I don't want to go through it all again. I don't know if I can. The world ended when the police turned up here.

I keep hyperventilating, and I feel like shite.
I feel as if my world could simply end because I can't cope with everything, especially not the police and the noise.

Don't worry, peeps, you know how I am, roller coaster and I may survive or I may slam into the ground.

I am off work now for two days, I have to see the dentist because I broke my tooth, I have to view a place to live and also go round to my friend's house, I have to sort the car out, and I have to try to stay alive and well. I have to get an assignment in, although right now university seems useless.
I wish the church and police had stopped and I could return to therapy, but they haven't, they have just had another go.

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