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:

Tuesday, 31 October 2017


Hey peeps,

It is harder to update these days, life has even less point to it than it did. The trauma has been too much.
The public discrediting of me by the Archbishop and Bishop with the help of their complicit and unquestioning media last year was the last straw, then they had my home attacked and destroyed by the police six months later, and of course it just hasn't stopped.
I cannot imagine the minds of those psychopaths who have inflicted this suffering on me while they continue to officiate and use the name of Jesus all the time, although you may have noticed that the Archbishop avoids Jesus Name and says God instead.

Anyway, I did some work today, but I am having trouble with pain, and nowhere to go for help with that.

I have been watching movies this evening, and Hollyoaks, the drama in Hollyoaks where the school blew up.

And I have been writing, using the other blog to write chapters of a last account of my background that led to the church being able to abuse and destroy me.

Sunday, 29 October 2017


You know what they say about the clocks changing?
You get an extra hour in church.

One of my phones updated, the other didn't, but I got up anyway, it was strange going to the farm in the light rather than the dark.

I finished the farm duties and headed for church. I don't normally go to the earlier service but I did today, they thought they knew what had happened, that I hadn't set the clocks, but no, it was the farm duties, not the clocks that made me early.
So I survived two services and a hell of a lot of talking to people.

I came home and watched 'The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas', the film is the same as the book.

I did the housework and then went to the welfare.

The welfare cheerfully fed me slop and mash and something resembling tea, and checked that I was being me and possibly alive. They do that, as you know, you will remember I used to go there regularly to be fed, patted on the head and booted out with a food parcel of dubious quality. Bless them.

This evening I have continued housework, had a pain in my side again, and watched 'Here Comes the Boom', but I have been battling trauma, as I do.

Saturday, 28 October 2017


I have enjoyed the early mornings on farm duties, I have had the farm, morning and evening this week, and I have enjoyed it.
I have loved getting up in the pitch dark, 5am, and going down to the farm, waking the sleepy hens in their clouds of fluffed feathers and startled clucks.
The ducks seem to find the torch bewildering, and they do mad dances.

Tomorrow is my last farm duty, and I was too tired today to finish the mowing, so I will have to scandalize the CofE hypocrites who don't know their Bible, and finish the mowing tomorrow, Sunday isn't the Sabbath anyway.


Today I was up at pitch dark o'clock, my mate 'A' was up, drinking tea and worrying about his situation, so we drank tea, it is always good to drink tea and worry with someone else at some unearthly hour.

As I said, I was tired, and had a headache from recent challenges, so I did the farm and came home to bed, Saturday is the only day I get to do such a thing.
I lay down and was asleep, I hate sleeping in the day, but I knew I needed to.

Recently the premonitions from Jersey have been loud and clear, almost screams. Premonition from Jersey indicates trouble, and it usually comes in the strange form of clear pictures of Jersey accompanied by a feeling of deep sorrow that seems to be someone else's sorrow and not mine. Anyway, Jersey premonitions always signify trouble.

But as I slept, I dreamed of the Channel Islands, very clear and sharp dreams that seemed to go on forever, I was there, I was home, and I was happy, home at last. The dreams were comforting, joyful in the midst of my despair, but unfortunately they were, the same as the premonitions, a bad sign, something harmful to me will happen from Jersey again.

When I was battling whooping cough and pneumonia in that cold February of 2013, I lay there as the snow fell, and I dreamed of Jersey, sharp and clear, and then the massive-scale press and media hate attack was launched against me by the Bishop of Winchester and Archbishop of Canterbury, with a bit of help from their friends.

My letter to the Bishop of Winchester has leaped 500 views in the last few days.
Hm, if they can kill me to silence me, they will, they have tried so hard, and yet I am still here, destroyed, but here. I want to see my abusers removed before I die.

Stepping out of the circle was a recent profound experience I had. I hope to write about it somehow, and eventually it may make a good book title. Authors always look for new ways to present work, and actually that was a great way to present my life, and it may work as a book, it will take more thought though.

My friend who emailed earlier, yes I am coping, not great but coping, just get those cups back at  and I will come and have a cuppa. No cups, no me coming round for tea.

It has been one of those weeks, the warm wet weather has led to rapid grass growth, everyone wanted mowing done and the grass being long and wet, with rain still falling, has been a nightmare to mow.

I have been watching Rain Man on repeat this week, great film.  I am now watching Hancock, I like Will Smith, my favourite of his is '7 Pounds', which as well as being very emotional, reminds me of my story and how I went on living after life ended.

I will post on the pages section of the blog at some point, the statements recently about the damage to me by the church and police this month. Yeah, while I am alive, they will go on destroying me.  But I won't shut up, because what they have done is a travesty, Bishop Tim Dakin and Archbishop Justin Welby should not still be in their positions, and using other survivors, Macsas or the police to destroy me and drive me to death won't change that. No amount of church lies flung back at me will change that. Attacking my home with the police and leaving me homeless again didn't change that.  Nothing will.

The attacks on me and discrediting and smears of me have had a profound and lasting effect, I am sure any of you subjected to a complete undermining of your lives, with nowhere to turn for help, would suffer. And if you had a background like mine rather than a solid foundation, you also may not survive. I wouldn't wish what I have suffered on anyone, except Jane Fisher of course.

Another thing as well as the Jersey premonitions has been troubling me and causing flashbacks, the horrific damage to me by Jersey Police in their dishonesty and brutality, nothing has been done about it, and the church and states did that terrible 'serious case review' whitewash of it so that I can be terrorized and never see justice and thus never heal.

Some of the bad memories at the moment are about the illegal actions of Jane Fisher and the Korris report, Fisher and the Diocese had no right to liaise with police and social services to destroy me and create an inaccurate report, they also had no right and were told so expressly, as were autism Jersey, that I didn't consent to interference and liaison.
There was a wonderful lie in the Korris report about the police sending me a nice letter. If they did so, they knowingly sent it to the wrong address, and the church of england had no right to know about such a letter and I certainly didn't tell them, as I never received it.
The Korris report was an attack on me, publicly, and the church spewed it's lies internationally, destroying me, but why? As yet I have no explanation as to why they had me branded and destroyed to the whole world, and proceeded in that vein for three years before culminating their attack in attempted murder, and nothing whatsoever has been done, as no-one holds them to account.

For me, the nightmare will never be over, there is no sign of justice, all there is is suffering.

Friday, 27 October 2017

Friday early

Hey peeps,

I didn't feel loke blogging anymore after the church used the Canterbury protest to catastrophically destroy me, but this blog is my voice and my life while I wait to die, and hopefully after I die it will mean I am heard.
I shouldn't have let the nasty little shills do the damage that they did, but to be honest, I took a leap of faith and I trusted, and that is what happened.

Two of the protesters at canterbury were church employees, acting for the church and harming me, one was a member of Macsas, the organization which helped the church to destroy me, and between them, they rubbished me and my story, left me destroyed, and acted with the church to try to set the police on me.

The police complaint is currently with the IPCC, the protest was a sham, mainly just attended by church of england employees, and they destroyed me, and I managed to preserve my life, shattered and damaged, and go on living and asking for justice, which the church don't like, of course.

I am just waiting to go and do early morning farm duties, hence the early post.

I still don't feel much like blogging, but as you know, the church have tried to silence me before, destroyed me, and eventually I sellotape the gaping wounds and crawl on, each time is harder, but never mind.
The church-police attack last year left me walking in the dark, with nothing left, they took everything, and everything since then has seemed like nothing.
But now I am escalating the matter, each police attack now has to be fully explained, names named properly, and no lies or excuses, and each attack makes a formal complaint.
The church tried another police attack last week, and I immediately told the attacking officer that I would like to make a formal complaint against the church - you couldn't see the police for dust when I said that!
So there is a complaint about that too, and a number of statements have gone to the police and their overseeing bodies.
The church are down to the dregs in attacking me now. They have to record their attacks, and when they lie about them and a complaint is made, it looks bad on them.

None of this brings me any sort of happiness or satisfaction, when the church harm me rather than take responsibility for harm already done, the damage is forever.

I will, before long, post in depth about the Canterbury attack,

Wednesday, 4 October 2017


Good evening peeps,

Still pulling thorns out of my hands from vicious rose bushes.

I was lucky. Two purple polo shirts, £5 each, new, end of season sale at Marks and Spencer.

I got some work done today, and the wind picked up.

I am just sorting stuff out to do with moving house, I am still in this prolonged house move.

It was interesting to see Stats from Canterbury on the blog today.

I have no doubt that whatever the UnGodly have in store, it won't be nice.
Even a pretence of care won't be nice. The UnGodly are scared and too powerful, whatever they do will either be a flop like their attack on the BBC or catastrophic.
But there is no choice any more. And Tilby still has two days, and isn't going to do a thing.

Do you remember in 2013 I did my series Comparing the Church to Efrafa in Watership Down, and the story of Hazel and Woundwort's meeting on Watership Down?
That whole chapter applies.

“At that moment, in the sunset on Watership Down, there was offered to General Woundwort the opportunity to show whether he was really the leader of vision and genius which he believed himself to be, or whether he was no more than a tyrant with the courage and cunning of a pirate. For one beat of his pulse the lame rabbit's idea shone clearly before him. He grasped it and realized what it meant. The next, he had pushed it away from him.” 

― Richard AdamsWatership Down

‘ “Ah ha,” said the fox, “tell my fortune, eh? And what do you see in the water, my friend? Fat rabbits running through the grass, yes, yes?” ’

‘ “No,” replied El-ahrairah, “it is not fat rabbits that I see in the water, but swift hounds on the scent and my enemy flying for his life.” ’

Tuesday, 3 October 2017


Good evening peeps,

High stats, but not a lot to tell you.
Hard work, tired, hens, assessed new work, lots to do there.
scratched to bits from pruning roses and strimming.

Washing powder, laundry.

Oh, I got new pyjama leggings, very nice, and reluctantly threw the holey old ones away.
I got new jeans as well, charity shop, perfectly good.

I am having trouble finding a decent polo shirt, but I will try again tomorrow.

Just watching TinTin before bed time.


Monday, 2 October 2017


Hey peeps,

Briefly, I am very tired.

Hard work, rain, hens, preparation for the pilgrimage, and tired now.

Sunday, 1 October 2017


Hey peeps,

I went to church this morning and was made a fuss of. It was harvest, so there was harvesty thingys.

After church my friends grabbed me and dragged me off to lunch at a  restaurant, which was very nice, so with lack of sleep and a big meal, I was sleepy.

I came home after lunch, and slept until 6.15pm!

I had to hurry to farm duties, the hens were already going to roost, muttering among themselves about lazy farm workers.

The tension mounts with the Canterbury protest, and survivors are learning to be bold and speak to the church as I have for so long. I am impressed.

This evening, to my surprise, some work that I bid for but didn't get, became mine, because the people have been so let down. Two gardens. Funny isn't it?

I watched some of crocodile dundee, my fave bit is that ending at the subway.

It has been a very rainy day again, so my work at the farm is falling behind a bit, I will see if I can catch up tomorrow.

Early Sunday

Good morning peeps,

I woke too early at about 2.30 this morning, I was having a bad dream, there was a girl having hysterics in the dream, about abuse, something to do with her brother, and I was trying to reason with her, I was saying to her about a visiting order when I woke up, so I then went into flashbacks about Ian LeMarquand and his abuse of power in my case. Which the church failed to respond to.
I couldn't sleep so I have been doing housework and marching possessions around.

As some of you know, I was in a temporary rental, and it came to an end, so I am here for now, and moving to my new place after the Canterbury Protest.

I have had my shower and breakfast, and am just waiting for it to get light so I can do farm duties, you can't let poultry out in the dark due to foxes still being active. Plus the rats like a share of the food when it's dark.

Justin Welby got a good reply to his double standards statement yesterday, victims answered him and were heard, and I am happy with that. I liked Holly Greig Justice's Headline, simply 'Pot, Kettle, Tw*t'.
Well said.

I got Max's interior cleaned yesterday, it has been left for a while and got messy.

The weather is rainy so trying to get any work done is hard.

The new Canterbury clothes all fit alright. I just need a new bra and pyjama leggings now. I threw my pyjama top in the bin this morning, it was a nice heavy cotton, £1 from the charity shop, now full of holes, the new one is very similar but not from the charity shop.