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, 13 March 2018


Good evening peeps,

I am just drifting on that emerald bay at the moment, this song is about the Great Ship Bay, as you know.

But last night it was Jersey. I was back in Jersey and on the ferries in my dream, and it was a completely comforting and lovely dream. It is always nice to get home again, even only in dreams.

There weren't flashbacks when I woke, I just got up and got on with the paperwork with the DWP.
But something occured.

Maybe drunkface who was insulting me on the other blog wasn't so wrong.

My writing evolved into something else.

I wrote a 14 page summary of the police and church harm to me, it just came out, I couldn't stop it or do anything else, it took a large part of the day.

I didn't eat, and I nearly ended up sick. I did stop and book a hair appointment and drink sugary tea, but I couldn't stop writing.

I was due on farm duties in the evening. And I finished writing in time.
I hadn't eaten. I didn't feel too good, I am not allowed to skip meals.

I went to the farm, the hens were in the barn. I have the dubious joy of clearing that whole barn out at Easter. The hens being in made my job  slightly easier today. They had produced some nice brown eggs too.

But the ducks were a nightmare. The paddock was a swamp, the geese saw me and picked up a water trug and threw it, they really did, but then they lumbered to their hut and yelled 'Hurry up with the corn!'
The ducks were more difficult, the new ones have always been a pain. The new ducks went through the hedge and onto the track, it is brambles and quagmire out there and I had a hell of time getting them in. I was muddy and not pleased.

Duties done, I headed home. I had to stop in town for food. And then home, tucked up in the warm bed, writing this with DVDs and music for company, and thinking about more tea.

Tomorrow I have my physio assessment. I think I will be OK. I didn't get upset when I went to the clinic with the spinal clinic's report on Friday. I will take a condolence card tomorrow.

It is a cold starry night, the air is sweet and smokey. Lovely, but warm bed is the place for the tired me.

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