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, 29 July 2017


Good evening peeps,

I am watching Evan Almighty, Sister Act 2 was on before.

This morning I fell out of bed and into work clothes, and headed for the farm.
The animals were pleased to see me and their breakfast, the breakfast mostly.

The weather was staying dry at first but was due to turn bad, so I didn't leave the greenhouse open or anything.

I nipped in town for some breakfast, and then I was due to do the care home, but realised I would have to go home for my mower!
I can't wait to get a van.

I did the care home until the rain began, and then it was time to get petrol and shopping, an annoying Saturday thing, but the weeks are so busy, I end up as if I was a normal person, doing chores on the weekend.

I have been feeling really low, as you know, and very depressed and angry. Sometimes the horrific injustices override the dissociation which keeps me alive, and I stop coping.

Anyway, the rain continued, and I tried to cope, read the paper, watched a DVD, thought about sleeping.

I decided to skype the doctor, I pay monthly for access to advice from doctors, because the NHS have destroyed me and left me with no access to help. So I pay for private doctor advice. The three-ring evil of church-police-NHS costs me a lot of money when I am still in poverty, and I still can't afford therapy, it is cheaper to pay for the doctor with a monthly fee.

This was to be the first time I dared to actually use the online service, and I was terrified, of course, but after a few problems with the system, I spoke to a very down-to-earth doctor, I told him about my recent problem with sciatica, and he said 'lay off the heavy lifting for a while' (It has been using my workmate's heavy hedge trimmer that has triggered it), and the doctor wrote me a referral letter for physiotherapy. So I have emailed the physio clinic.

Talking to a doctor without being hurt really helped me. I was so anxious, and problems with the sound meant I had to switch to my tablet from the laptop, but I felt much better for having spoken to the doctor, I didn't talk about my state of mind, give it time and I will, but my confidence in medical staff is so shattered that it will take time. It is another thing that needs rebuilding.

Then I finally cooked lunch at nearly 5pm, and went to put the farm to bed, in the pelting rain.

Home again, it really was time for a hot shower and some nice films.
I am all clean and in clean clothes, and feeling a lot better.

The flat really needs tidying, everything is all over the place.

I can't get writing, even though I have a few things I want to write.

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