I got a doctor's appointment but by the time he was 30 minutes late I was in such a flat panic from waiting that I walked out.

I saw V. he says that if anyone gives me trouble I should tell him and he will sort them out.

I feel so utterly useless. And unwell.

I went to the walk in centre because my heart was racing and I was hot and I felt like I was made of concrete, but the walk in centre was too busy, the que wasn't moving and I was too hot.

from the journal - murder and suicide

I don't know if or where I have mentioned this before, about one of the homeless men being murdered.
But I have written about it in the journal.

He was one of the beggars down by the railway station, harmless and very quiet and sad, he didn't have much life left in him when he was murdered and everyone thought it was the drugs that had killed him at first. He had been collapsing continuously for a while and the last time I had seen him before he was murdered he had been unable to stand on his own and had been completely out of it, falling over every time his fellow beggars let go of him.

But then the word got around that he had been murdered, that he had internal injuries, suggesting that he had been kicked where he always sat on the ground by the station. Two men were arrested.
I don't know if he owed them money or something.
He was harmless. And defenceless.

I used to buy him a hot chocolate when I went to the cafe for a cuppa, if I had enough money, he always asked for hot chocolate, not tea. And one day he was sitting there in minus zero temperatures without his blanket, I wondered where his blanket was, but I was carrying a blanket, and he asked if he could have it, I gave him the blanket and he put it over his head. He must have been freezing sitting there.

The average life expectancy of a homeless person is low, and a number of my fellow homeless have died while I've been on the streets. And my hope is for me that God has mercy and honours that statistic and lets me go too. Unless I am pardoned for fighting back to the appaling church and unless I am protected from that safeguarding woman then I have no hope, no future.

Another homeless death was a suicide, he went on the railway line, as I would. The homeless services made a loud and proud and continuous statement about how 'They had tried to help him', which was disputed by his close friends who said that the B******'s were just showing off and advertising themselves and they hadn't helped him (much the same as they would have claimed to help me if I had given up instead of hanging on as I have, and they didn't help me by breaching confidences with the diocese and being biased), this homeless suicide man had his funeral at the cathedral, which his close friend said again was affectation and advertising, the homeless man who died would not have wanted it, but it gave the interlinked Cathedral and homeless services pictures in the paper and a lot of self-congratulation.

God please help and protect my fellow homeless, and break the back of the arrogant church!

RIP B. and S. I hope that where you are is kinder to you than this world and your struggle is over now.

I get so many people trying to force me indoors and send me to the shelter, they say that it is too dangerous for me to be outdoors, when in reality I have been safer outdoors than I was in all my time indoors.
So I do a percentage thing if they are persistent.

• 60% or more of people are hiding indoors at night, making the most of their warm homes, they are more likely to abuse someone close to them than me, and more likely to look at porn than that.
• 15% or more of people not at home at night are at work and are not going to come near my sleeping place.
• 15% of people out at night are in pubs and bars and will get drunk and if they are looking for trouble there are lots of willing people in the pubs, bars and clubs who will oblige, they will not come to my side of town or sleeping places.
• The final 10% are homeless people, insomniacs and people with problems, homeless people all have their own territory and will not bother me, insomniacs are not going to wander into homeless corners on their night time jogs and the very small percent of rapists and beasts are unlikely to wander into my corner either.
• I look like a bloke when I am there in my bedding.
• I have a phone
• I can fight
• I am rarely or never found by individuals
• I have been abused less since being homeless than I was when I lived indoors.
• I cannot cope with indoors
• I am still vulnerable to the diocese if I settle
• I have no future in employment or anything useful and this is the only way I can survive.

Good morning bloggers. Yesterday I finished the two library books I was reading and then I left the library before it closed at 4.30. I went and caught a bus to the next town. I shouldn't be wasting my money but I am going mad with staying still in this town and having bad memories.

I went to one of the nearby towns, it is grim there, it looks like pictures of the second world war in some places, with ruined houses and gaps and dark alleyways.
I looked for a church for evening worship, but it was hard to find one, there was a salvation army place with a notice saying 'we don't do social care on sundays', so I kept looking, I found a big church and went in, a man was standing at the door and he seemed to be the welcomer, he welcomed me and I told him I wasn't really looking for evensong and was there another church nearby that had a less formal service?

He told me that a lot of people in this town were down on their knees but this was the only place where anyone was praying to God tonight.
It is a grim town.
The man reminded me of the rudeman, for a minute I thought I was talking to the rudeman himself. But it wasn't him.  This man woked out I was homeless without being told and asked me if I wanted to stay at his place for the night, he said his house was consecrated to God just as the church was, he showed me a picture on the church wall and said he painted it, he asked me who was in the picture and I said 'Jesus and Mary', I asked him how long it took him to paint this but he had no answer. He repeated his offer to have me to stay and said he was safe, he doesn't look safe. The choir master came over and he said to the choirmaster 'I am safe aren't I? tell this girl', but he didn't tell the choirmaster that he had invited me home. The choirmaster vaguely affirmed this man and the man wandered off and I told the choirmaster that this man had invited me home and he said 'don't worry, he is a bit eccentric'.
The man came back and I said to him 'where are the priests in this church?' There wasn't a priest in sight, the man replied 'I am one of them', I asked where his dog collar was, and he said he didn't have one, he showed me a cross and told me it was a fransiscan cross, it didn't look like one, but he asked me in return 'Well how do I know that you are a Christian?' which is not something you ask a visitor and I hadn't professed to be a Christian either, but I showed him what I wear around my own neck, glowing in the gloom, but I didn't tell him the origin of it. It silenced him though, and he wandered off again and told a random lady I was sleeping under a hedge, she came and asked why and told me to try the local night shelter, I replied that it is safer to sleep rough and she left it at that.
The man came back and started telling me that it wasn't a coincidence that I had come here and that I shouldn't turn down what God was offering, I replied that God knows better than to send me to a single old man for help. I now know that all this 'not coincidence' and 'God says so' is manipulation, haven't I learned well from the cult churches and my abusers?

All the 'policy' (wrong as it is) of the great grim church is useless in the face of church attitude and the way perverts know how to use it. This guy is free to pick up vulnerable people as he wishes and no one would turn a hair. Thankfully I have learned the hard way not to go along with 'nice caring guys' in church who tell you they want to help but wont repeat what they said when someone else is there.

I didn't stay for evensong, and the choir master affirmed that there was nowhere else doing an evening service, so I went to McD's for a cuppa and then went to the bus stop and back to where I am based.

When I go on the bus and am on the move I get a mix of emotions, I love to be on the move but I feel so helpless and useless knowing that I am reliant on the bus and vulnerable to anyone who gets on the bus, I also feel longing for my work as we pass fields and woods, I wish with all my heart that I was out there working and strong and fit again. I needed the journey as my head is a hornets nest and I am longing to be on the move and longing for county A when it wouldn't be safe for me to return there.

It was raining when I arrived back in the town where I am based, I went and used my stickers up on another tea and then went to bed down.

Don't you hate it when someone else organizes your things? My friend had put my newly washed red fleece in with the dirty blankets that go on the ground, so the fleece was dirty and smelly. She has taken my other clothes to be washed though.

I slept or tried to, it rained doutside the porch and I never got comfortable, I was too tense, towards morning I drifted in sleep and dreamed that I was back at college, the college I went to as a mature student, I dreamed I was working hard in the fields and that I went to the portaloo but the boys were larking around in there and I was hopping about needing the loo so I firmly turfed them out so I could go to the loo, all I remember was that I was relieved to be at the good college and not the bad one.

I woke up and went to the loo and bedded back down again but it was nearly morning, I was reluctant to get up because the depression is firmly winning and the distress about the church has been bad. Eventually I got up, and rather hurried because the bin men came along and saw where I was sleeping. I put my bedding back in the shrub, I will move it on Tuesday/wednesday just to ensure I do have full permission for the new place, further away from where I sleep.

I went to the market and had tea and breakfast and a wash.

I was relieved to get here and start typing. I am going to have to talk about the church or it will not stop hurting me.

I saw V. in the library yesterday, he is a real enigma, he is always alone and standing out, but he is never alone, he had a 'mate' with him, he introduced his mate to me and told his mate that I was a good friend of his, which is an honour, he has loads of friends and admirers, I am lucky to have a ray of sunshine like him as a friend, he distracts me from the unhappy things in life.  he was telling me about doing first aid to a guy who had a bit of glass bottle stuck in his head.

The main library closed at 5pm and I didn't fancy hanging around in the hot little library where you have to stand up to use the limited computers for 15 or 30 minutes at a time as I am doing now.

So I went to the bed and breakfast, which is an indulgence. On the way I met V. twice, the first time he was on the steps and he happily told me about a fight he had had and how he had slammed someone to the floor. I told him he would be useful to deal with the youth who were calling me shit, he said if I just pointed the ****'s out he would deal with them, then he told me that he was working with the police, and I said 'so I will see you at the market with them at bacon roll time?' and he said 'It's funny they are eating themselves', because in english slang police are called pigs, 'cannibals' I agreed.
Then when I crossed the market he was at the cash machine, he was wearing a radio and was on 'first responder' duty, he had a gang of giggling girls following him about.

He asked how much food I had and I told him I was ok for food and things, but he gave me £4 for supper, he said he had found £10 outside Tesco earlier.

I went to the bed and breakfast and sorted my backpack out in an attempt to make it lighter.
I had a bath and slept for twelve hours, I dreamed despairing dreams about church and home and being able to run again. I woke up feeling desparate.

I had a shower and wandered towards church, I had missed the service and waited outside to go in for coffee anyway.
The priest came out first, he told me that he had spoken to the council and they were going to remove my bags from the shrub, I refrained from calling him a bastard and simply said something about Jesus instead and went into church, my friends were there and I told them what had happened.
One of them went to find the priest and 'have a word' and the others stopped to discuss the situation, one had brought me a trolley with a sleeping bag and blanket in, but with nowhere to store things and none of my friends having a garden or shed or anything that was easily accesible there were no solutions.

My friend came back from speaking to the priest and she said he was going to phone the council and ask them to turn a blind eye on my bags for a while. She said that the priest would like to chat to me but I said no, chatting with priests is something that I hate doing more than anything and cannot do.
I told them about the homeless man in London who was stabbed and scalded by a vicar who didn't want the homeless man there.
Think about that? A vicar doing that to a homeless man! A priest having a homeless girl's bedding removed by the council and thrown away! what are churches and priests for?
But my friends said over and over again 'we are the church', and they are, the priest there would be lost without them. They are going top sort and tidy my bags to make them inconspicuous while we find another home for them.
I walked down to another religeous meeting house and spoke to them and they granted a possible permission of space for my bags in their grounds, I will find out on Tuesday.
Here I am standing up and typing.

I've just been called shit by those nasty little youths who prevented me getting the takeaway leftovers. Being called shit by people like that is a mixed blessing I guess.

I just went to get those long awaited new knickers, then I went and had lunch, then I went to see the art gallery lady, I have wandered nosily in and out of ther ebefore but last night I was introduced to her properly at film club and she said I could come and have a cuppa.
I asked her if she ever needed a volunteer for dirty and boring jobs and she said that I can come and help sort books next week, she made me a lovely soup mug of tea with brown sugar.

The journal that I am transferring writing from was written in August or September last year, not long after the final? attack by the church.

The main library closes at 5pm today so I will lose most internet access until monday, it is too crowded in here anyway, I cannot get enough space.

I just spoke to brother M on facebook, he says that my mum has accepted that Brother N has Asperger Syndrome and needs help. At last! It is a pity that my parents didn't accept years ago that I needed help, if they had then I might have been able to cope, but they wouldn't allow outsiders in back then, now there is no in, just my mum and my youngest brother and sister, my mum is apparently still in denial about sister O needing help though.

Last night I went to Film club. My friends had some bags of things there for me. A pillow, two new fleeces, a hat and gloves set, a shawl, socks, shampoo, chocolate, pringles, a torch, pens. These things were to make up for things that have been stolen.

The film was good. it is always hard to think about going outdoors after the film, I stayed and talked to my friends awhile and had a few cups of tea and coffee. One of them gave me a small banknote, I will use it to get the knickers that I keep forgetting to buy.

I went to my sleeping place and bedded down, it was a bit of a disrupted night because of revellers nearby and rain blowing in. But I slept and I dreamed another strange dream. I dreamed that I was in a classroom and I was being tormented and bullied by another student, an immigrant, I tried to speak to the teacher, who was somewhat like that brute of a diocesan safeguarding official, but she just laughed and said I deserved it, but just then another immigrant student came up to me and he was crying, he told me that he had been being bullied by the same student and it wasn't just me and he was sorry that I was hurting, I started crying as well and old him I was sorry for what he had been through, and we hugged and cried while the teacher just stood there.

I woke up and moved my bedding and headed to the market for toilet and tea and breakfast. I had a wash and renewed my library card and here I am. It is cold and bright outdoors.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Uc8KPSIzAc A better version of streets of London, pictures of what it is like.

Another song http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-3ueYxrA-Zs

I just went for a tea and toilet break. It is cold outdoors. Freeezing! My face was very cold last night when the blanket wandered off.
I am reading a book called 'Paperboy' about a paperboy in Northern Ireland in the 70s.

In the last few days I read a book called 'Luke and Jon' about two misfit boys who have both lost parents and become friends. Lovely story. And I have been reading Asterix and TinTin books as well.

failure and memories of childhood

On facebook brother M put a status saying he was a failure, I replied that he was the success of the family and he wasn't anything like the failure that I was.
But then brother J and sister K and brother M's girlfriend and SDB were all saying that they felt like failures as well. Despite all the fighting, the siblings all have low self esteem, maybe excluding Brother I because he is a bit psychopathic.

I remember being three years old and moving house, we were in a big minibus and I didn't know what was happening. Later my dad said we had to move because the neighbours had cursed mum and she had pleurisy and would have died if we hadn't moved house. I don't know the truth of that.

I remember being four years old and feeling low, useless, even though I was only four.
I remember my older sisters being unkind to me and making out I had been moving the tea mugs and drinking other people's tea, they did things like that all the time, I guess they weren't happy either.

I went to the homeless lunch, the crazy tangle of humanity. It was busy today. At first I wasn't getting anything because I couldn't shout or grab. It improved.

I overheard a woman asking her husband if she could give some money to some of the rough sleepers, and she talked about looking in her cupboards for food for them (she and her husband aren't well off, thats why they come to the lunch), thn she was talking with one of the hostel boys who was sitting opposite me, he told her that one of the rough sleepers had been a drunkard but that she seemed better, she did indeed seem sober today, she greeted me with friendliness, the hostel boy went on to say how she begged to get money for drink and how he used to beg to get money for drugs but that he is clean now. He was wearing a jumper that looked like one of mine that had gone missing from the stashpile.

Then there was a guy who was telling the hostel boy that he had been arrested that morning, the boy asked why and it was because he had been caught shoplifting on CCTV. he wasn't bothered and they just discussed the merits of different shops in terms of easiness to shoplift.
I still don't understand why people like this get let off with a slap on the wrist while I was held captive for days without my inhalers and treated brutally and thrown in prison, and for fighting back to people who were harming me.

It is bright and cold outdoors. I think cold air and hot tea makes me cough. I am going to the homeless lunch in a minute.

Today is homeless lunch day and film club day, so I will amble through my blog in between those two things.
I wish I could get to grips with the thing I need to write about. The church, but I can't at the moment. I will get there though.
I have 'blanket eye', eye infection from wearing the blanket over my head at night.

By the way, people ask me what I do if I just have one blanket to sleep in one night. The answer is, find cardboard and wrap up in the blanket and then the cardboard, if there is no cardboard then sit down wrapped in the blanket, don't lie down because the blanket won't keep you warm enough to sleep. You will doze better sitting wrapped in the blanket. Then get emergency help with bedding the next day or as soon as you can.

I am pleased to say that nothing more had gone missing yet.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/False_awakening

This is what I have all the time, this is what it is like when I have those fear dreams about being found where I sleep.

Google Chrome has messed up my blog again and made it hard to work with, but I will do my best, I hope I can get shot of google chrome as soon as possible and go back to my old familiar blog.

Last night as I went out of the library the cold air hit me and I was reminded that I live outdoors. It is always worst in those few minutes when I go out, I feel nervous of the night and not sure I can cope with the cold. Then I get used to it again.

I walked down through town and my old protester friend shouted me and gave me four McD's stickers, which was good because I had two already, so I got a cup of tea.
I went to the samaritans and talked to a nice lady who I have seen before. She got me a cup of tea.

Then I put my spare fleece on and went to bed down, it was a cold wet night but as I bedded down it cleared and I could see the moon. As I fell asleep an explosion woke me up, but then everything was silence, I wonder if it was an exploding head thing?
I slept, I dreamed I was in a church with a friend and we were decorating a christmas tree, then he vanished and I was alone with the tree and decorations and I could hear a very BBC English voice, old fashioned sounding and sounding a bit like my friend, he was commentating on delinquent boys who were sent to 'work farms' as penalties. I woke up, leaped up and went to the toilet, it was 2am and I was cold, I rearranged my blankets and tucked back down warmly, it was a freezing cold night.

I woke up groggily at 7.30, knowing I had to move before I was seen, but deciding in my doze to 'exercise my constitutional rights to stay put'. It was about 8am when I stashed my bedding and went to the market for the loo and a cup of tea. I should never stay in bed that late, I will get moved on if I do.

I had breakfast and tea at the market stall and had an unremarkable wash.

The weather here is the same all the time, cold and wet with a cold wind.

I just went outside a minute ago to get a cuppa at the market, the sky was deep dark blue in the dusk and the moon was very bright, dark grey clouds floating by, it would have made a lovely painting and one of the church people came by and stopped to look at the sky with me, she agreed it would make a nice picture, she asked if I was ok in the wind and she said she had been thinking about me when a tree came down somewhere and she was worried in case I was sleeping under a tree. I assured her I was not.

The distress about the church keeps boiling up and I want to share it, but I cannot.

It was the surgery trying to phone me, they had a letter for me with an x-ray appointment. They were very helpful in giving me directions to the hospital as I never leave the town centre so I don't know where the hospital is.

I was wondering if they could x-ray my tummy as well, to see how many socks and washing lines are in there from when I think I am a goat. Sorry diocese, I am only joking, I never think I am a goat, and I just eat car tyres because they have nutrients in  :-P