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:

Monday, 21 May 2018


Good evening peeps,

Jersey and the tinpot church kicking off, throw them all over La Coupee and have done with it.
See you in court, boys!

Last night I had terrible nightmares, strangely enough the most scary was about a wedding, a wedding with skeletons, ghosts and ghouls, how symbolic, but I was terrified in the dream, because I was actually in the car or carriage with a skeleton bride and groom, not nice, but I woke, hot and upset, and slept again and woke in the morning into flashbacks about the Diocese of Winchester and the Police. I haven't mentioned it but this past week those same flashbacks have been intense and have been making life difficult.

Anyway, I had work to do, preperation for PIP, I had finished Max's MOT workup, so at 10.30 I set off to take him to the car's best friend.
When I got there it was funny, because although he appeared scornful of my pre-MOT check at the autocentre, he had gathered all the possible parts we might need, based on the autocentre's assessment of the car, if you remember, there was nothing too serious, no MOT failure points flagged up, just a few things that could indirectly affect the MOT, so he had got the parts, he can get them on the basis of returning them if he doesn't use them, as he is a trade customer, so he had everything ready to take with Max to the MOT and presumably fix him on the spot and put him straight back in, which was impressive.

I was almost tearful to leave Max, I never like leaving him with anyone, even his old owner, I felt alone and vulnerable as I struggled down the hill into town. I went to the library but couldn't get anything done as I waited for my PIP assessment, I was expecting Max's results to come through when I was in the PIP centre, while my phone would be off, but when I gave up on the library and decided to use my coffee voucher for a free coffee, the phone beeped, Max had passed first time.

But it was time for me to drink my coffee and go and be assessed.

I can't gloss over PIP assessments or say anything opposing what other claimants say, it is a gruelling and humiliating process and it dents you. Mine took 90 minutes and I was exhausted.
I think, seeing as there is so much evidence, especially a whole book of x-rays and assessment results, they can't exactly 'fail' me, but it is a question of how they make the award now, the amount and length of it. You know why I need the award, I suppose? To help pay for the repairs to my spine, which the NHS couldn't do even if the local NHS was anything but collapsed. If I can get the spinal treatment now, my spine can be repaired as much as possible, the bones cannot be repaired but treatment can make the broken back easier to live with, but if treatment doesn't happen, degeneration will cripple me completely.

Anyway, I survived, although I was really stressed during and after the assessment.

I didn't walk to collect Max, I don't think I could, my friends were busy working on the cliff top, no one was around to give me a lift, and because Max's costs were just about manageable, I paid the mean grumpy old bus driver for a lift up to the last stop on the hill.
There is still a walk from the stop to the unmarked roads, but it is bearable at a slow steady pace, so I crawled up there, and rounded the corner where me and Val first saw Florence and it was love at first sight,  those years ago when Val was alive and the future was bright, before the church finished killing me.
And there now in big sister Florence's place, was Max, clean, shining, and newly MOT'd, Max, M.F. Nortycar, full brother to Florence, F.P. Nortycar, by the same parents. Max, the car who raced down the cliffs with me in the storm two years ago, when the Archbishop of Canterbury and Bishop of Winchester made that massive attempt on my life.

It was baking hot, but as we drove home, there were stormclouds gathering, reminding me of that race through the storm two years ago. We got home, and the heavy rain fell. But there was no thunder or lightning, just God's tears. Tears for the moon over Jersey, for all that a life could be.

And home. I got on with my chores as usual, and then as I couldn't get the new Humans series to run on the computer, I decided to go for a drive, and I drove up to the cliffs and just drove, enjoying the smooth even action of this car that I adore, Max, the ghost of Anna, who perished in Jersey, Max is the same make and model as Anna, you see, he was compensation. God is Good. Everyone and everything we lose, comes back to us in ways that we cannot imagine, we never completely lose anyone, even if they are no longer there.
It was peaceful on the cliffs in the evening light, the sea was steel grey and it was ever so quiet as we drove.

I came home, watched a bit more DVD and now it is bed time.

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