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:

Wednesday, 15 February 2017

6th Anniversary This Last Great Journey Home

14/02/2011-14/02/2017 Six years. Where you see youtube links in this post, they are the usual appropriate soundtrack songs for parts of my life.

It would be so tempting to make something up and pretend I haven't just done as I have just done, and it may be a while before the Great Grim Church realise the full extent of what I have just done.
And that is just for starters you b*stards. Sampson pushed the pillars down with the last of his strength. Let's see if I can do the same.

Even if the next church press and media attack in two weeks time kills me. It won't be over.

Anyway, I didn't intend to open this post on that note at all.

14/02/2011-14/02/2017. Six Years.

My alarm went off at 4am. I was tired, I had been so tense that I didn't get to sleep until midnight, and that isn't enough sleep for me, especially not on a day like today.

I was lucky with the weather, after freezing gales yesterday, today was mild, cloudy, unremarkable.

Max already had boxes, clothes, backpack etc. He opened a sleepy eye and said 'Hurry up then girl!' You can imagine if that was Florence, she would have snorted and huffed and Hated the Idea!

It was 4.40am as we set off for the first leg of the journey.

We did good time though, and I looked back at the lights of my foster town against the darkness, afraid as always that I would not see it again, that it would be ripped from me as so much has been ripped from me in the past. Holding the hand of my foster town in my heart.

At 5am we reached the second leg, Max was in a line of three similar cars as we waited.

And then it was time for a sausage sandwich and a coffee. What an early time to eat things, I am sure it is illegal.

The next leg is an hour. But at last the lights come into sight, the lights of love. Southampton, the city of my childhood, eternally beloved. When I see Southampton, long forgotten things such as smiles and joy return.

Last night the moon was huge and bright outside, but now it is muted by cloud and heading west.

The lights of Southampton, the golden sodium lights of the docks, the red lights of the flight path guides, the blue life-lights of the Itchen Toll Bridge.
Did you know you can't commit suicide on the Itchen Toll Bridge because it has life lights and Samaritans phones all the way along? People used to jump off there a lot before.

Beautiful Southampton, but now it is 6.30am and the traffic is already bad, it takes a while to get through.

We reach the last leg of the journey. The motorways, and Max pulls anxiously, he is not used to this, the speed, the huge lorries, I forget, we don't usually do this kind of thing, I still remember motorways but Max doesn't understand. I explain that this is a fast road with big lorries.
But before long the speed is gone, traffic is crawling from before the services right up to the M3 junction. Ha.

We crawl, while the radio cheerfully tells us all about the traffic.
There is an accident on the side of the motorway and not serious but it is making the commuter traffic worse. We get past it and pick up speed a bit, but as we go onto the M3 and it begins to get light, all I can see is three lanes of brake lights, damn we have already lost time and I fear for my safety if we don't start quickly.

We turn off above Eastligh and head over towards Compton, Otterbourne and Shawford, and at least I know and I remember this. I don't want to get caught on Romsey road by the traffic so we come down through Shawford.

The lights of Winchester are ahead.

Winchester. Six years.

Traffic is not bad coming into Winchester, which surprises me, I know it is only 7.30 but Winchester was awful for traffic in my memory, and considering how bad Southampton had been at 6.30, I was pleasantly surprised.

I took the wrong turn first, haha. Second time lucky, and more lucky, we got a parking space up along the wall, free for a half hour. Which is a good start.

The boxes are divided up into six runs, and in an ideal world I would have started the other side of Winchester and earlier, but I have to do the most dangerous parts as soon as possible.

At Wolvsley I say prayers for the Dakins and Scott-Joynts as I stop there, before I walk back a little way for the next drop.

The Cathedral is the next stop. And I remember Philip as I walk through the quiet Cathedral. I guess he isn't here anymore. I don't join the communion, I watch the well heeled old people absolving themselves of guilt, and then I say some more prayers. Laying to rest the terrible things that happened to take my home town from me. I don't normally do as my adoptive parents have taught me and pray to saints. But here I pray to St. Swithun about the Dakins and my home town.

I walk away from the Cathedral, remembering the youth events there, when we were young and life was more hopeful. The Winchester I remember, where the sun always shone.

There is one more stop on this run before I go, and now I have to work out how to re-arrange the runs.

Max and I manage to turn around alongside the wall and get out onto Southgate Street, and again the traffic is still relatively light, we head round Jewry Street and onto North Walls.

Again we are in luck, we get a 30 minute parking space.

This is the hard part.

I walk over to the building site.

Six years. 2011-2017.

She screams in terror as they throw her about, dragging her by the scruff of the neck so that her clothes are ridden up and her body exposed, no dignity, and there is no excuse for this, none at all.

I stand there, the building, the cars, everything that was there, is gone, but the injury remains, until my dying day.
I stand and pray quietly.

I walk down to Bradbury House, and again I say prayers, before I turn and walk back up, Lower Brook Street, Holy Trinity, Hope Church, the Salvation Army, the Winchester Centre, the URC, the Catholic Church, the Baptist Church.

I stop for a strong coffee, ground by a cheerful man in a Winchester Style coffee shop, I am tired already and my original routes are still confused.

I drive up to Bar End.
A police car comes around.
What already?
But no, they aren't after me. The Angry Destroying Spirit of Jane Fisher has gone from my Winchester, and Winchester sleeps quiet, peaceful now.

I head for Kings Worthy, but my memory won't tell, I have trouble finding them in Kings Worthy. You who are blessed for what you did as the condemnation and slander could have stood between us, but you are Christians.

Then the part of the journey that I least want to make.

Hush, we sleep, we dream
and before us the golden summers rise
a hundred show days, hundreds of beautiful Sundays
friendship, laughter and sunshine in our village

We are beyond the darkness, pure
We were never taken from you
We who sleep here and dream 
of Littleton as it was when were were here with you

The evil never reached us, we are to you as we were
We sleep here, remembering prayer and praise
and a thousand happy days 
in Littleton as it was then

The daffodils and snowdrops are gleaming
on the road by the church
the laughter of congregants in the sunshine
as we share fellowship and coffee

The show, the benefice services at Northwood Park
The walks, the parties, the events,
We know, you know, what we had here was special,
of a time that is no more, humanity is too fast for love now,

So we rest peaceful now, and together we share the memories.
as you come to remember, to grieve, and to say goodbye,
And we remember with you as you realize,
this was the family you never had, and you knew it all along, 

Hold on the the memories, you who have also gone,
Whose name is no longer known here, also dead, 
Death and grief take many forms,
but the memories, your and ours, are for you, forever.

Your soul holds Littleton forever, but you haven't chosen to join us,
except in dreams,
In the land where it is show day forever, and everyone is there,
you go on, fly above Littleton in your dreams, but never come home,
To see your engraving among our engravings: 'Best in Show'.

Hush, we sleep here, in the golden dream,
and the poorest of our sisters,
flies above Littleton
to a life that we could never imagine.

When I was fighting for my life on the streets, as Jane Fisher destroyed me, I couldn't grieve, I had to keep myself alive. I couldn't grieve for those of mine who are in that churchyard. But I went back, and remembered, and grieved, and said goodbye. Those who don't understand the 'Best in Show' reference, that isn't arrogance, those of mine in Littleton know what it means and that is all that matters.

Thankfully there have been less deaths since I left, I didn't recognize many names. While I was in that community, so many that I knew, died, and for me it was hard because my parents had brought me up with death being a terrible taboo awful thing that 'couldn't happen to us' and those around us.
But I know many names in that churchyard.

There is a pink hyacinth on Anne's grave, just blooming. I did as my adoptive parents taught me and crossed myself and prayed for Anne's soul. She died estranged from me by Jane Fisher, and Fisher wanted to keep me away from the funeral so that my abuser could be there in peace, and Anne didn't like my abuser, who was there for the company anyway not the funeral, he used to leech onto funerals and weddings and baptisms. He was no friend of Anne's.

And then Fisher had me beaten up and imprisoned just after the funeral. 14/02/2011.
Anne was my friend for a decade along with the rest of them.
I used to call them the 'Scooby-gang' but Margaret Fowkes thought she was part of the Scoobies. I guess she could be Cordelia! Haha.

Anyway, I said goodbye to Anne and told her I would be back later. 'You will always be with me Anne, one of my middle names is your name, in your honour'.

'I know'.

I finished Littleton. I stopped at the rec. I said goodbye and a blessing. Hundreds of dog walks, hundreds of events at the hall, helping out, helping out, washing up, waitressing, cleaning, setting up, packing up.
And of course it is show day, and everyone is there.
The poison and slander can't take the reality of what was.

Do you remember my dream about Littleton last week? It was show day and everyone was there? One of the people I mentioned was one of those headstone is new in the Churchyard since 2011.


Will you guard, will you keep, will you watch over these?

There is only one more person to rest here that I really remember,
Tony died in 2010 while I was estranged, but Tricia has died since.
I say goodbye to them and thank them for being kind and inclusive.

Winchester 10.30am.
The car park is full, nowhere to park, but a man comes up to my car and hands me a ticket with two hours still on it and tells me he is just going and I can have his parking space. How wonderful.

In Winchester I try to bring the confused threads of the six runs together.

I don't have much time so I finish printing some letters.

Then I walk up the hill, it is as steep as ever for someone with a heavy bag and low lung capacity.

14/02/2011 - 14/02/2017

I walk into Winchester Police Station.

This Last Great Journey Home.


I stop at that little petrol station, I remember stopping there with Anna so many times.It is a family business and I like to give them custom, they are nice.
I said I would be there for 1.30 but I am running late now.

As I drive I remember again how beautiful Hampshire is, how that beauty sustained me when I escaped from my family in a terrible state, chased by threats and terrible prophecies from my mother.
Hampshire is as stunning and stark in the winter as it has always been, and being separated from it is sad, but at least I can visit.

I get there and am lucky in getting Max a corner space.

I get to where we are meeting in good time. She doesn't see me, and I have little Patrick with me, so I get him to ambush her. Haha.

We go to our favourite cafe for lunch. It is as good as ever, the big pot of tea, the tasty food.

After that we go to the post office. One of the six runs is entirely postal.

Then there's the bit she doesn't want to do, neither do I, but I would rather she was with me, it is mainly symbolic.

The Abbey, the Same as the Cathedral, is a symbol of human greed and arrogance and going against God's Word to use His House for profit despite Jesus' lesson.

We walk in there. The stewards come over as usual, and I tell them I am here to pray and I know where to go.

We walk up there and I put Little Patrick on the pillar and I tell her what this symbolizes, what Jax Machin did.

We go over to the prayer area and I tell her about it, and then I say prayers and light candles.

We have two last tasks before I show her the book 'Destruction' and she likes the poetry and the pictures in it.

Then it is time to say goodbye for now.

I head back to Winchester.

In Winchester I have seen maybe five people who recognized me, maybe a few more, but they don't mean anything to me. Winchester, my foundation and my home city, doesn't mean to me what it used to. I moved on and grew, and those who were with me there are gone. It will always have meaning to me, that is inevitable, But this Last Great Journey Home will hopefully bring some closure and peace, so that I can fly beyond the bad memories and only remember the good.

Winchester 5.30, the tasks are all but over, a few very tricky drops to do. I want to do as I told Anne I would do, but I can hear her voice in my memory 'You are tired and running out of time, there will be another time to do this'. And as usual this is wisdom. I must go, traffic is bad and I am tired.

Goodnight Winchester, my home city. You and I know what I just did. Like the German Shepherd Dog in I am David who jumped in front of the guns. I want my enemies to kill me because the injuries I carry from them are too bad. But I got to say goodbye at least.

The darkness and the glowing lights go on and on, until my foster town comes into sight hours later, and I get home and sleep without dreams.
But I am there, I know, every glorious show day, and everyone is there. Show day starts at 4am, we are setting up and there is so much to do, and then we have to go and get our exhibits, and then it is all about directing traffic, preparations, and then the show opens, and it is all about helping with tea and doing shifts on different stalls, and then someone shouts me to the tent.

'The Hampshire Chronicle wants to photo you! You've won best in show!'

You are all there with me, and will be for eternity.  Those of you who took part in the evil, I will remember you as you were.

Sleep, Littleton, and dream of the joy and wonder, the sunshine and show day, and we will all be there, forever, beyond the poison and evil. What poison and evil? It is show day, and everyone is here.

This was the real story, not the tale of evil that the church dreamed up to excuse the inexcusable crimes against me.

Winchester 2010/11 :

Littleton Now:

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