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, 15 July 2017

Saturday morning

Good morning peeps,

Who nicked the blackjack sweets off the kitchen surface? Was it you? Must have been the elves.
Disclaimer - the child-raping church of england would use that to make me out to be mad, I do not believe in elves, must have been the fairies.

Recently I have been waking up all hot and thirsty in the night, so last night I rearranged the bedding when I put the clean linens on, and it has helped, I slept better.

I had strange dreams though, dreamed about Littleton and all my old friends, although as usual when I dream that, I am a shadow, a ghost, not really there. It was Christmas in the dream, but I still wasn't there.
The Montagues were there at the rectory but they had a baby in a blue baby-gro, and they put it in the churchyard out of the way, on a tarpaulin, it was a very dignified baby and it didn't mind.

Over by the church were all the dead christmas presents, and I was trying to move them out of the way but I couldn't, they were all over the churchyard and the path.

I am glad I felt nothing really, but it was vivid. I guess the baby was Sally Montague, who the Montagues abandoned.

I wake up and I am home. It is Saturday and this weekend is a busy one in town and a quiet one for me, unless I go in town and join in the festivities. Home is the best place to be, never look down memory lane with rose-coloured spectacles on, my song for Littleton, as well as 'There's a Time' is this one

I worry about breaking the spell if I say that I am glad that I made it to here and fought the church to stay here, and met my workmates and peeps.

I am still sleepy.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Note: only a member of this blog may post a comment.