Sunday morning

Good morning peeps,

Well yesterday was nice, we went out for celebratory coffee, which morphed into celebratory lunch, and you don't need to guess what I had for lunch, yes, jacket potato.
Among other things we celebrated that I have been back in work for two years. I said that it terrified me that I am reliant on myself for income and a roof over my head when I am so damaged physically and emotionally, and the reply was that it was amazing rather than terrifying, that I am doing what I do, and I agree. I remember the DWP and HMRC disbelieving me when I said I was returning to work.

After lunch we wandered round shops.
Then I had a quiet rest of the day, reading another Saint book and watching Vicar of Dibley. Which I am going to continue watching as I wait to go to church now. And no, no-one in my church says 'Well, bugger me!' or talks about putting their hand up unmentionable places of sheep and cattle, honest, they are very sane at my adoptive church, well fairly sane anyway. But the Vicar of Dibley is a very good parody of a country parish even now, all the characters, especially David Horton are very realistic. Unfortunately Juliet didn't change the David Hortons of her benefice into human beings, she simpered and fawned on them instead.

This morning I woke early and decided to enrage the pharisees in the Church of England by putting the washing on and washing the car. The washing is now on the line and the car looks suitably washed. Monday is my longest and hardest day at work and I like to start work early with a clean car, clean clothes and plenty of food and drink, it helps me to get through the day, because in a way the DWP were right, I am not fit for work, I work anyway and suffer the consequences rather than endure the murderous benefits system and because I want to work.

I have just been walking round town with a coffee, I really wanted to hear the church bells but today there are no church bells. Of all the unforgivable things the Church of England have done to me, not providing Church Bells on my Birthday is the limit! I had to provide my own church bells, look:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C54k_-ZD5gA

Do you know I have two Birthdays in March? One is my name day, when I took my own name in order to protect me from Jane Fisher and her complicit authorities who continued to hound me as I went on the run from them? A lovely lady helped me to change my name, she went over and above the call of duty when she signed those forms for me. Thank you you lovely lady if you are reading this, I have never forgotten your help to me and how you went outside the boundaries of your work for the sake of my welfare. Because of you I have been able to preserve my life from Jane Fisher and her authorities and go on living although the Church's efforts to hound me to my death have never ceased.

According to my adoptive mum I share my Birthday with the feast of St. Joseph, so I have his protection, but I don't believe in superstition and anything that is not in the Bible, the Catholics are queer folk sometimes.

I am norty, I ate all my Birthday chocolates as well as peanut butter on toast today. Now I will be dancing in church like those black magic headcases in Jersey.