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, 23 December 2016

Friday evening

Wow peeps, what a day!

After I did a post this morning, I went to get Max and take a load of stuff to the lockup.
But Max got into strange difficulties on the hillside and I was petrified, the last thing I needed while moving house at Christmas was a broken car.

I had to stop Max and try to work out what was wrong or what to do. The Car's Best friend was just off on holiday, he is due to change Max's catalyst in the new year but that didn't seem to be the main problem. I limped Max home and checked his oil and water, I topped up the water last week and it was still a good level, so at least it is unlikely to be the head gasket, but I was terrified. I topped up his oil as well.

I simply could not find any faults, so I set out carefully, having lost some time, so I only got one load to the lockup, but Max seemed just fine, it was strange and worrying.

I had more bad news when I got home and I never even tried to get back to the lockup but there isn't that much to move.

Things started to change a bit after that awful half of the day. I found presents and cards with my name on on my doorstep. And for some reason I just started crying, maybe that wasn't such a bad thing.

I still have no idea who the presents and cards are from, I put them under the tree for now, My cards this year are all over the lobby door and the kitchen cupboard doors because I don't want to damage the paintwork and every time I do a line to hang cards on they fall down, so I just blue tacked them to anything that won't be damaged by blue tack and there is no space left now.

Anyway, the next good news was my mates on the gardening team cheerfully saying that they will help me complete my move, whether or not Max breaks down.
The good thing about being gardener girl is that I know mans with vans, and they don't mind helping a damson in distress. They will stay unsozzled for one day next week in order to help me.

Max breaking down will still be an issue if he does though, because his permit here ends next week and he is permitted at the new house instead. But at least the horrible worry about being able to complete the move has lessened.

Then several other people stepped in with emotional and financial support, and Christmas got a bit brighter.
There is food in the house.

Thank you everyone, I am not supposed to name people on here except passing references that you won't be recognized from. But thank you to D, T, J, J and K, thanks for making this easier for me.

This evening me and Max were lashed by the tail end of Barbara as we went to get petrol and food. But she is calming down and tomorrow there will be the Christmas fairs and street entertainment to enjoy, and in the evening I intend to watch 'The Woman in the Van' and then the Vicar of Dibley before I go to Midnight Mass/

The sea has been roaring and raging, beautiful.

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