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:

Thursday, 19 January 2017

Prophecy and Premonition

Premonition is coming from Jersey, huge, nasty, and constant.

Is this it?

But I had a thought earlier.

I was prophesying the Dean's strange 'resignation' through my dreams up to some weeks before I knew about it. Here are some premonition dreams that I had and posted on the blog as part of my posts, you know how I post my dreams.


The third dream was just creepy, Jersey, ferries, and then the Dean. In the dream the Dean's son was missing. I can't remember if he has one of those in real life, but his son was missing. He was getting plenty of sympathy though. Looking all fat and black-cassocked and miserable. In the dream he happened to invade my bit of space by the wall and the rocks and he sat down there. I went over to him and told him I was praying about his son and I was sad about it. He started blustering but I told him this was nothing to do with what he had done to me and that I was praying. He stopped blustering and said 'They should have searched the rocks better'.

I don't like that sentence. It's a premonition, but not about the Dean's son, should he have one. I remember he had a daughter and a grandchild. Someone else will go out on the rocks in real life, and I am not threatening to do so myself. I do have a habit of dreams that actually come before something happens.


I didn't have such a bad night. In fact I dreamed a very comforting dream. I dreamed I was in Jersey, and instead of flying above Jersey as I usually do in dreams, I was walking in St. Helier. I was at the Royal Square and the town church. I went into the town church and wrote a cheeky message in the visitors book for someone I know in Jersey. And outside in Church house, the Deanery were having an officious meeting, as they do, and the Dean saw me and looked furious, his ugliness and obesity were magnified and I laughed at his fury and walked off to see Jersey again, fully expecting the Dean to try to send police after me.

I woke up comforted, it is the first dream about Jersey that hasn't distressed me, and normally I only fly above Jersey in my dreams. It was the early hours when I woke and I had some fruit squash and slept again.
Exeter Airport.



Good lunchtime, peeps,

The assignment went in with 10 minutes to spare.
I have no idea of the quality of it, but I just like listening to it on playback over and over again, because I like it, never mind what the tutor thinks.

It is a cold sunny day, and I think I will seek out some lunch and wander out to the provinces, wherever they are.

Wednesday, 18 January 2017


Good evening peeps,

Please excuse the rubbish I have been blogging.

I am trying to clear out of a major depression at the moment.

I am also, you will be pleased to know, doing the final tweaks on my composition.

The piano accompaniment is pretty good but I am not completely satisfied with the song, I have gone for soprano but I am wondering if that is too high.

It is due in tomorrow by midday, so I had better get my act together.

This evening I was in the quiet study area in the library, working on this, and it reminded me so much of how I used to live in the library when I was homeless.

And when I came out of the library into the cold clear evening, that also reminded me of being homeless.

I can't get this composition out of my head, I love the tune, I hope my tutor does too.
The premonitions from Jersey are so loud and fierce, another attack is due.
Sampson brought the pillars down before he died.

Tuesday, 17 January 2017

Suicide Prevention

Do you know what has been the best suicide prevention for me, peeps?
Knowing that if I failed, the police would beat the shit out of me and lock me up as a punishment,
because no-one has updated them on the fact that suicide ceased to be a crime decades ago.

If you look at the suicide risk factors, I remain a high suicide risk.

The thing is, thankfully I am utterly alone in the world thanks to the Church of England, so no one has any idea of my state of mind, because I don't talk, I just stand my ground and wait for the church and their police and press to kill me.
I have no one to worry about me, and never will again. The Diocese shattered my relationships in 2010 and I have been utterly alone ever since.

Don't do it. If you ever consider suicide, remember, your life will never be as bad or as hopeless or as dark as mine.


Hey peeps,

It has been a tough patch, bad depression and the anticipation of being killed by the church and their police and press, which is inevitable.

We were rained off yesterday, which made everything worse, and I was struggling with this stupid assignment, which I am still struggling with.

There isn't much to write.

This afternoon I actually did some ironing as the washing machine here crumples everything to hell. I wouldn't normally iron work trousers, but they looked stupid when they are that crumpled.

Jersey Protest

I am supporting the protest in Jersey today. Because I want Gorst to resign or be removed.

And the only time I have ever agreed with Ashenden is now he wants the Archbishop to step down.

In both cases I am in agreement that these criminal figureheads should be removed, but not for the same reason as the protesters.

Let me reword that, I agree with the Jersey protesters, Ozouf is losing them a fortune. And he is being protected by a chief minister whose misconduct is worse than people think.

Have you ever seen the Bishop looking like that?

Monday, 16 January 2017

Candle in the Wind

You know why I like this song as I wait for the Church and their police and press to finish killing me?

It's just some of the lyrics. Not all of them, certainly, but being alone and having to change my name, and knowing that in death, the press will be as vile about me as they were in life, things like that.
I guess I could re-write this song a bit.

Goodbye Norma Jean
Though I never knew you at all
You had the grace to hold yourself
While those around you crawled
They crawled out of the woodwork
And they whispered into your brain
They set you on the treadmill
And they made you change your name
And it seems to me you lived your life
Like a candle in the wind
Never knowing who to cling to
When the rain set in

And I would have liked to have known you
But I was just a kid
Your candle burned out long before
Your legend ever did
Loneliness was tough
The toughest role you ever played

Hollywood created a superstar
And pain was the price you paid
Even when you died
Oh the press still hounded you

All the papers had to say
Was that Marilyn was found in the nude


Good evening peeps,

I am battling terrible depression and trauma.

I watched 'Airplane' this evening and of course as well as being comforting, it brought back memories. This is from the other blog some time ago.

Brother are you there?
You are in my dreams this night
the snow and the salt and the sand
of St. Clements Bay where she died

Brother Can you hear me?
She is calling for help
but her cries are getting fainter
and the horror that was, still is

Brother can you wake?
Can you hear my screams?
through the salt and the snow and the dark
I can't bear it any more

Brother can you come up here
take her in your arms
make the darkness of St Clements bay turn to light
bring an end to the dark

Brother do you remember the dark
St. Clements, 2am in the morning
Time stopped then but she is waiting
when will the end come, when will there be peace?

Brother can you command her rest?
Take her from the sand and the salt and darkness
lay her to rest at St. Ouen
St. Clements Bay is frozen in the snow

Brother you were there when she died
frozen on the dark bay
the sand and the salt and the sea
so please take her to rest at St, Ouen

Brother where is she?
Dreaming of the sunlight
she is a child again, running to her father's arms with joy
the lights of Corbiere and Casquets beaming bright, home forever

Disclaimer. This poem is about unresolved grief and the horrific damage HG has suffered, it is also about platonic love and separation. It is not about suicide. The Church of England and their allies have and undoubtedly will again, try to have HG put away on any excuse to save their own skins, don't let a cry of grief be that excuse.


Good Monday peeps,

We are rained off and I am struggling with depression and this impossible assignment.


Sunday, 15 January 2017

The Samaritans

I am always like this, peeps, I don't realise I am having asthma problems or a relapse until it has been going on for a while.

I don't realise I am in collapse because of what the Church have done until I can't cope any more.

I just published two books, both horrific memories, 'The Churchwarden' and 'Very cuttings' and had no idea of the impact on me until I wasn't coping.

I went to the Samaritans this evening and was lucky to get someone very helpful. So helpful that I think two hours went past.

I just got home, very tired and I have work in the morning so I shouldn't still be up.
We may be rained off in the morning though.


Good morning peeps,

Well yesterday I was struggling to get much done. I am on 5HTP as my mood has dropped very low.

For some unknown reason I suddenly changed tack on the books and started putting 'Very Cuttings' forward for review instead of 'Destruction'.

I went out and picked up the blue bike, which is still in Max, waiting to be unloaded.

I got on with 'Very Cuttings' and it was sent to publish last night. Available here:

It is raining today, and all I will be doing is struggling with this music assignment.

I may proceed with 'Destrution' and then my story is nearly done. Well, hm, nearly.
I hope that someone hears me before the Church and their police and press kill me.

I am doing turkey steaks with carrot and broccoli for lunch while I watch Hollyoaks.

Friday, 13 January 2017

A letter to the Bishops

cc National 'Safeguarding' Team and IICSA


Dear Bishops Willmott and Dakin and Archbishop Welby,

I enclose the reminder of the formal complaint sent to Bishop Willmott last year, unfortunately he decided to try and fob me off through his secretary, adding to his image of dishonesty, deceit and cowardice.

Please make sure that both my formal complaint against the behaviour of yourselves and the Godless, evil and criminal Jersey Deanery are now either addressed or passed to a competent safeguarding body, as it is clear from the pronouncements without evidence of the Archbishop and Bishop about safeguarding in Jersey being good, while I was being destroyed, that neither the Archbishop nor Bishop have the faintest clue what safeguarding is.

That is reinforced by the fact that the Archbishop and Bishops themselves have led a public attack on my character through a million pounds worth of criminal and illegal whitewashes slurring me and covering up for wrongdoers. If you consider safeguarding to be good when you have been effectively forcing me to my death and branding me publicly for the abusers who you have openly aided and upheld in harming me. Then at very least you don't know what safeguarding is.

You met with and condoned the powerful criminals from Jersey and spoke with them on the phone and allowed them to condemn me in the press and media, you provided legal and PR help for yourselves, and you never met with me, spoken to me (apart from the Bishop of Winchester threatening me) or provided me with legal or PR help as you destroyed me publicly while I was voiceless. 

So how is safeguarding good in the Church of England? Are you going to answer? Are you going to answer the person who you have scourged and crucified publicly?

You spent a million pounds glorifying yourselves at my expense and upholding each and every wrongdoer and abuser and branding me publicly for life, flinging your and their version of my personal life all over the press and all over the world. You made it clear you condone abuse and will always protect abusers and wrongdoers. Do you really believe this is safeguarding?

Now, where is the million pounds for an investigation into what happened to ME? And also into the illegally accessed records of the whitewash.

If you continue to refuse to take responsibility for your actions and the severe, life-limiting and permanent harm to me, then each one of you must step down.

Even if you genuinely believed the Dean to be innocent of wrongdoing, you had no right to turn the matter into a discrediting press stunt at my expense, having never met me or heard my side and having only listened to the money and power of the powerful circle of lawyers and dignitaries surrounding the Dean. Including those who illegally accessed and tampered with already inaccurate police and other records.

What you should have been doing rather than destroying me for the sake of the Church's image, was holding these men, including the Dean, to account for their Godless and criminal behaviour instead of adding and to it and including your own Godless and criminal behaviour.

The Dean of Jersey, without remorse or any sort of reprimand for his serious criminal and dangerous actions, especially in conjunction with his circle over the past four years, is to go on to positions where he will remain a danger to the vulnerable, and you have lauded and upheld him, so tell me how safeguarding in the Church of England is good?

You nearly ended my destroyed and shattered life with your public attack on me and upholding of wrongdoers and I remain in utter anguish and waiting for death. Obviously from your onslaught without mercy, you have made it clear that you want me dead, and indeed it would be best, because I couldn't recover from the previous harm to me, the last four years is something that no human being could come back from, no human being, be they whole or crippled. No-one could survive what you have done to me. You have utterly condemned me.

So, why have you received my requests for you to pay for my attendance at Dignitas to be humanely put to sleep, and not answered them?

 You had a million pounds to pay for glorifying yourselves at my expense and publicly destroying me, you had that money to pay for cover-up of your wicked and criminal actions against me, and you are reluctant to pay a few thousand for me to fly to Switzerland to be killed, after your sustained efforts left me shattered beyond healing but still unable to die? 

Please explain this. No-one can deny that your efforts at publicly vilifying me and spewing your version of my life into your complicit press could be anything other than a constructive murder, and in fairness I should now have been dead for three years, but sadly for you I am not, and I have offered you a solution for your failed murder, because I am never going to heal.

 A mutual solution would be dignitas, and it would be better than having to endure another Christmas ruined by Justin Welby, the man who destroyed me, trotting out another load of vain and empty lies written for him at Christmas, waffling the vain empty cliches about the poor and homeless while his victim, in poverty and anguish and having endured three years sleeping rough because of his church, goes on suffering.

Jesus Wept. Justin the Narcissist must be silent eventually, surely?

The things that strangers said about me and the lies that your criminal clergy and laity have broadcast in the press and media, leading to hate attacks and threats against me while I was voiceless and jeered at when I even tried to answer this hatred, will never heal and can never be justified by you as anything but your wish for my death in shame and brokenness, as has nearly occured and will eventually occur.

Please make sure that there is an independent investigation into all of what has happened to me, make sure it includes me and my voice, from my books if I am dead by the time it occurs, I have written my books to ensure that I am heard in death if not in life.

Make sure that your collective actions of the past four years is stringently and completely investigated.

This includes investigation into the Steel report being continued when she was chosen by and acting for, the Jersey Deanery, why she was not withdrawn when requested, with evidence of her confliction, why the Korris report was published and labelled independent when it wasn't and why Korris broke the law and why her report was not withdrawn until I took the Bishop to court. 

Also why the Bishop kept on and on discrediting me over the Steel report, claiming to withold it for my welfare when he had not sent me a copy, but was basically telling the general public that the report was genuine and I was in the wrong. 

Claiming to care about my welfare as he and the Archbishop nearly caused my suicide and he told the general public he was feeding the conflicted lies of Steel into the conflicted Gladwin report was an act of evil. My consent for that has not been granted. I have not agreed.

The Bishop failed to tell the general public that I was forced to take him to court to save my life, he failed to tell the general public that he was supposed to make sure I agreed with the content of the Steel report before it was released. He failed to ever send me a copy of the Steel report.

None of this matter has been about safeguarding, or protecting the vulnerable, or anything meriting a million pound waste of trusting congregants' money. The outcome for me has repeatedly been near death, it has been permanent and very severe harm to my health and a lifetime of being branded that makes me long for death. There is no recovery from the kind of hatred from strangers, threats and lies that have been broadcast, none at all.

And to make it worse, the whitewash by Jersey Safeguarding partnership, cooked up by the intermeshed States, police and Deanery and used by the church to harm me further, And then the use of the 'National Safeguarding Team' to try to sweep up the pieces and cover it up, rubbing my raw wounds with sandpaper while refusing to do anything about any of your collective criminal and dangerous harm to me.

They are still refusing to act, because apparently you have 'advised' them not to, and they are employed by the Archbishop and his council, presumably to cover up while duping vulnerable victims by whining about caring about them and learning from them, as Jane Dodds did with me. I was already in enough anguish and suffering in a way that will never now relent, I didn't need that insult to injury that was the National Safeguarding Team.

 And I am continuing and will continue, to ask them to act upon your serious and criminal safeguarding failures that should have led to you collectively being removed, and one day someone will see my emails and letters to them and ask them why they didn't act.

That is evil, it is wickedness, and it beggars belief that instead of resigning, You remain, still a risk to the vulnerable and after committing such evil.
Either the Church has no clue what safeguarding means or you men should resign. As long as you stay, after taking part in such evil and refuse to take responsibility for yourselves, you know that your church isn't safeguarding anyone and isn't anything to do with God.

You completely lack integrity and you compound that by making false claims and misleading the general public while upholding dangerous men in your church and leaving me destroyed.

I have a formal complaint. It starts with abuse when I was 19 and runs to the present day, it comprises of lack of safeguarding, sexual, physical and emotional abuse, slander, illegal actions, abuse of power over the press, false claims about safeguarding, very serious harm to me, me being exposed to hatred and slander, police brutality and intrusions, homelessness and imprisonment because of your safeguarding failures, it is exhaustive, it contains a list of people's names already sent to you. I have had no adequate response. I am waiting, I am suffering.

The longer you leave it, the worse your failure in safeguarding becomes.
I will be producing and publishing a report about the National Safeguarding Team's part of this, which will be sent to the CSA inquiry no matter whether you can or cannot bribe them. But you do need to call an overarching investigation into my case, and every day that you ignore that, you harm me. While you don't safeguard, the risk of abuse is high.

The Archbishop's lack of understanding of safeguarding led to him claiming that safeguarding in Jersey is good, he appears to mistake a prolonged and power-abusive smear and discrediting campaign using the press and media against a vulnerable adult by his clergy as 'Good safeguarding'.

 Obviously his lack of understanding of safeguarding is so serious that it is a risk to vulnerable lives, he certainly nearly caused my death and until and unless that is dealt with properly, then there is a serious safeguarding breach, worse even, a complicit act of cover-up carried out by Bishop Willmott and Archbishop Welby.
And again, if most vulnerable adults are more voiceless than me, how many are being killed this way, and with the blessing of the National Safeguarding Team, who yatter lies and rubbish at the victims to try and placate them as the victims commit suicide.

If the National Safeguarding Team, who are well aware of the wrong in this matter and have said as much to me before being gagged when it was realised that I couldn't be duped and silenced, do not arrange for the resignations of the the Bishops and Archbishop over their serious harm to me, then a court or inquiry must do so, and the National Safeguarding Team should also resign.

 They are following up their failure by allowing the Dean to 'resign' lauded and honoured, again at my expense while I endure a re-awakening of the threats and attacks on me over this, some people are fooled by this resignation and the Archbishop and Bath and Wells employing that criminal, but not all.

The Archbishop claims that the Dean is a 'Godly Man', really? Has the Archbishop ever read a Bible? Didn't I send him one the other year as he continued to uphold the harm to me relentlessly? Does deceit and lies and hiding behind people of power and lawyers constitute Godly? Oh yes,  because the Archbishop does it too.

Does destroying someone the way the Dean has destroyed me count as Godly? Maybe someone switched the Archbishop's Bible for a Satanism Manual. Because what the Archbishop himself has done is evil.

There is no God or Christianity or integrity or good or safeguarding in what the Archbishop and Bishops and Archbishop's Council have done in destroying, threatening and publicly ruining me. I was already destroyed before the public attack on me was launched and I have suffered without relief while a million pounds was spent on the church's image, lawyers, PR firms, press releases and four whitewashes that are nothing to do with what happened to me.

It is time for you Godless and terrible cowards to step down. Do a lie like the Dean's 'Resignation', do it any way you want, but before you go, make sure that there is an overarching inquiry and also that Peter Ould and Gavin Ashenden who continue to attack the vulnerable unafraid, because in the Archbishop's eyes that is good safeguarding and Godly behaviour, are removed, along with Elaine Rose and all staff and clergy who have harmed me.

The Church currently don't safeguard, because they mistake safeguarding for image and segregation to protect the church. How can the comfortable middle class know what safeguarding means when they don't understand vulnerability or suffering, to the extent that they have an apartheid against the vulnerable to protect themselves?

All the high profile employment of 'people from social care backgrounds' does not remove the apartheid or the fact that these new employees are not allowed to actually safeguard because the church must be protected first.

The horrifying behaviour of Dodds, Tilby and Murray in my case, thinking they could mislead me after allowing the Bishop and Archbishop to destroy me publicly and then gag it all, is all the proof you need of that.

Make sure that I receive my copy of the Steel report as requested, you have no excuse whatsoever to withold it, and make sure any agency asking for a copy if they are concerned for my welfare, are given a copy of it, and also do not lie to any agency about being in contact with me, trying to include me in reports or trying to help me.

Please send a copy of the Steel report to the IICSA and explain to them that this is how you classify an independent safeguarding report, a report carried out by a member of the conflicted inner circle of Jersey's States, Judiciary, lawyers and Town Church who protected the Dean and destroyed me.

Let me just remind you of the blog that Bob Hill created just before he collapsed while defending me from hate attacks instigated by your Steel whitewash and the conflicted circle's need to have it published and snuff out my life with their hatred in the form of a report. Your million pound safeguarding failure and cover up cost this man his life.

Your pretences of care for my welfare while you destroyed me were the same as a rapist telling his victim he loved them as he raped them. Despicable and inexcusable,  you can't cold-bloodedly destroy someone and pretend to care about them for the sake of PR, it is despicable.

And do you really think you can excuse yourselves based on what you have heard about me? It beggars belief.  You've never met me. You must resign.


HG/JJ -  Church of England safeguarding failure victim.


Good lunchtime peeps,

I am trying to train Jersey unsafeguarding partnership to stop stalking my blog at night, but it isn't working. They and their pals are hovering ominously, likely to try to attack again.

I came home for lunch to get out of the bitter wind and imbibe something warm.

Yesterday's snow didn't come to much, and I was up early to unload Max and defrost him. That all went pretty well.

I set off in good time and managed to get a parking space at work. We were working on the estate to catch up the work we were rained off.

The wind was so bitter it was torture, but we worked well. The lads went to get shrubs while I dug out some new borders that had been the ratty ends of grass lawns.

Then we planted the shrubs and also re-turfed another ratty area.
It was all going well but I snapped an edging iron, the handle had perished a bit and it gave way. Not too serious but my mate had only recently sharpened it.

Anyway, as we plodded peacefully with our work and a bit of hot chocolate to keep us going, a gent was walking through the footpath with his dog and he stopped to talk to us,
He told us that one of the trees by the path was dead, you wouldn't have noticed it while all the trees were dormant, but he said it got on his nerves.

I walked over to the trees and looked at the one he indicated, I pulled a small branch and it snapped, dead, and the next one, I pushed the tree gently to see how easy it would be to get out, and there was a loud SNAP and the tree went over. So I took the tree over to the man
'There, it won't get on your nerves any more!'
The lads were laughing 'That's not the first thing she's broken today!'

There is a little bit of stump that I will have to deal with before we start the mowing again. I had no intention of felling a tree with one hand today, it just happened.

Anyway, the gent was perfectly happy with us tree fellers, or two fellers and one girl, and he told us he was an ex-farmer and that he got up at 6am every day and washed in cold water. And off he went.

We continued to work, it was bin day, so as well as the wind being bitter, it was attacking the bins and so there were bins and rubbish going everywhere, so me and the lad kept chasing rubbish while the older team mate leaned on the hoe and laughed.

It was a half day so we finished at lunchtime.

As I drove away I spotted the old farmer who had hated the dead tree, only he had fallen over on the lower footpath while trying to pick up windblown rubbish, and he couldn't get up!

I whacked Max into neutral and hazards on and I ran to help him.

He is a heavyset ex-farmer with a dodgy knee so it is a good thing that someone else happened along because it took the two of us some minutes to get him back on his feet. Poor man, he was shaken but unhurt, and by the time he was on his feet, more people had arrived, locals who knew him, so I left him in their capable hands. By the time that was done, my workmate had pulled up behind Max in the works van, looking mightily puzzled about Maxie sitting alone with his hazards on.

'What's she broken now?'

I told him what happened.

Here I am home, I had hot tea and some quorn cottage pie for lunch and I am just going over to finish the lockup now.

The windy is icy and very strong but no rain or snow is falling at the moment.

Thursday, 12 January 2017


Good evening,

If I don't update, Jersey leaps onto the blog like a demented yoyo every half hour.
Hey Jersey, would you do something for me, try reading the blog during the day so I can be lazy and not update for you.

Today has not been a good day, torrential rain all day, and all I could do was try to move stuff from one lockup to another and I do not like having the car full of stuff and driving in bad weather, no, I don't like it.

Then I got a stupid letter from the DWP.

My mood was low but it plummetted and I couldn't get much done.

It was hard to do anything at all, but in the end I got some writing done.

The rain turned to snow and it tried to settle but it was too wet.

I got my washing done and I was cheered up by twitter and emails.

But it has been another low day, my mood has been low for a long time.

I am going to bed in a minute.

Wednesday, 11 January 2017


Good evening peeps,

I wasn't going to update as I am so tired, but Jersey is jumping on the blog like a demented stalker,they really want an update.
Here's an update.
Piss off.

No, never mind that.

Today I had the delight and joy of returning to the city of my childhood, Southampton.
Southampton is an eternal love, I have loved it since I was 7 and will probably always love it.

But it was a very early start this morning, and I hadn't had enough sleep, so I have been considering sleeping since I got home, and I will in a minute.

Tomorrow we have bad weather forecast, we don't yet have a flood warning, but spring tide and high winds and heavy rain, and the rain is likely to turn to snow for a time.
Not ideal as I have a lot to do, and once it starts snowing I will have to get Max back here until the snow is gone.

Tuesday, 10 January 2017


Hey peeps,

We got half a day done yesterday on the estate, and then the rain came down. We worked an hour in the rain before we were rained off. We resume there on Friday.

I came home and worked on an assignment for the rest of the day and handed it in in the evening.

Today I didn't have any work booked, you may notice that that is usual for me on a Tuesday. I did paperwork and sent paperwork off and went to the lockup for a bit.

Then this afternoon I went to have a back assessment.

Ouch, I feel like I have been in a tumble dryer.

My pelvis isn't too bad. But the assessment was interesting.
I don't know if you remember my physiotherapy the other year where they tried to re-track my kneecap to keep it in place more?
The physios were nice but I think they were trying to explain something and I wasn't taking it in, because I have been re-told it today.

It isn't just my knee joints that have hypermobility, Other joints do too, and that is part of why I have problems with walking and pain, because the ligaments are trying to stabilise the loose joints, which sounds similar to what the walking clinic told me when I was on the streets, the ligaments are taking too much strain.

I scornfully disregarded hypermobility before because I can't bend my thumbs right back like some people can, not all my joints are hypermobile (similar to double-jointed).

Anyway, my shoulder injury reacted to treatment and apparently that is due to scar tissue adhesions and nothing much else, I am just grateful it eventually healed as it did, although I did have to pay a private clinic to mend it when the NHS failed me. When I was in my early 20s trying to rake anything was agony because of that injury.

But there was a load of tension built up in my shoulders from the horrors of what has happened and my immobility since the church attack in May and June last year, and the man said that my spine-skull joint was definitely not alright.

So I had a bit of treatment for the upper back, spine and skull and also the lower back, the lower back was painful and they ran a massage machine type thing on it.

At the moment I feel like I have been in a tumble dryer. But I am pleased at my mobility range, even if in some cases it is too good!

I can start gym now and I will have the blue bike back this week.
I will be having more treatment at some point.

Sunday, 8 January 2017


Good evening peeps,

Please excuse the late update.

I was worried about pizza.

No actually I was trying to edit the new book but I couldn't because it was too distressing.

This morning I woke up kind of OK but flashbacks, it took a while to get going, then I unloaded the car and headed for the lockup. I picked up a load of stuff, and came back.

I cleaned the car as I cooked lunch, I realised I had forgotten breakfast.

Then I had so much unloading and unpacking to do, I felt hot and tired and mildly cross.

But trying to edit the book made me downright unhappy. My mood is low and it is hard to do anything to do with the damage the church has inflicted is too much for me.

Saturday, 7 January 2017


Good morning peeps,

Well it wasn't such a bad day.

I started out by waking up reasonably well, albeit with church nightmares and flashbacks.

I had a tutorial this morning, and that went well, I even nortily drew an elephant and some music notes on the tutorial board. I am always norty in tutorials.

Then I went over to my lockup, just working to sort my things out so I can downsize to my old lock store.
Then I dropped a few of my books off for people and picked a few of my books up.

Eventually I came home and struggled to get any direction with my books, eventually coming to the decision to produce an intermediary book that runs between the Churchwarden books and 'Destruction Absolute' which isn't in publication yet. The intermediary is called 'Destruction' and as you know, there is to be a book about the church war, which will be 'Destruction's Flame'.

Destruction and Destruction Absolute are followed of course by 'The Wanderer' Series, which is my best selling and most popular group of books.

So briefly the Chronology when finished will be: 'The Silent World', 'Breaking Silence'. Hampshire Hymn', 'The Churchwarden', 'Destruction', 'Destruction Absolute', The Wanderer's Diaries Books 1-6, 'Destruction's Flame', 'Coming Home' and 'Homecoming'.

Alongside these run 'Gardener Girl' and 'The Anything and Everything Books' and 'Goodnight Anna'.
Eventually  there will be a 'Life after the Diocese' series, and also two 'Uncaring' Books, one about the DWP and one about the NHS.
There will also be 'Rooms' which is about places that I have lived.

There are a whole load currently in private circulation at the moment as well.

There will be further books on Jersey and the police, and more. If I live. And I am a fugitive in fear of my life even now.

Anyway. My shoulder is aching and I have to get up early to get one lot of stuff out of Max, wash him and then go get another load.

It is raining.

I am battling depression at the moment but I am surviving.

Friday, 6 January 2017


Good evening peeps,

I had nightmares last night and woke early feeling rotten.
I went back to sleep and woke later feeling tired and upset and in pain.

It has been one of those days, just feeling down and irritable.

I didn't do a great deal today, errands and odds and ends, and I went to my writer's group this evening and that was OK.

It has been a gloomy day, with rain setting in in the afternoon and still raining.

I got a witheld number phone call which could indicate a police attack.

Thursday, 5 January 2017


Good evening,

Well this morning I woke up not ill, and was wide awake by 6am, I felt more like I had had a vigorous workout than 8 hours of pickaxe and rock throwing work.
I was down at the car park for 7.30 to meet my workmate and hitch a lift in the van.

Work went well today, we had broken the back of the work yesterday so today was a question of clearing the waste off the site and levelling it.

We were fed tea and bacon sandwiches and we got the job finished and looking good by 3.30, the people we were working for were happy with our work, and I only found one frog today!

It has been a very cold and frosty day again.

We got paid for the two days' work, which is good, I am actually buying some clothes. I did buy two new work bras (sports bras) the other day, us lady gardeners have to have good support :)
But I am going to get some trousers and tops as well.
Oh, and guess what. I have an hour's assessment of my back next week, I am doing that first and then see what work needs doing on it, and then I will start gym training with any advice from the back assessment in mind.

Anyway, I have a three day weekend now before back to working on the estate on Monday. I hope it isn't ruined by anything. The stats on the blog to do with Jersey and the recent Jersey premonitions indicate that I am being attacked again, and sure enough, I got home to an email from the defunct and finished Jersey Care Inquiry, Bob tried to make them include me and they wouldn't, now they are presumably emailing to try to further Ian Gorst and Jersey safeguarding partnership's attack on me.
I have contacted the Inquiries act committee and will take it further if it doesn't stop.

Wednesday, 4 January 2017


Good evening peeps,

I should be asleep. Last night I was traumatized by police on twitter, and as a result I had a bad night and upsetting dreams.
I had to be up very early and fortunately I woke early despite everything and was able to get to where I was hitching a lift to work.
There is almost no parking where we are working so I hitched a lift in the works van.

We worked very hard all day, clearing a site strewn with rubble and rubbish, and tomorrow we return to level the site for grass.

It was hard work but we did well, and the people we were working for provided much tea and bacon sarnies and mince pies, luxury.

The funny part of the day was that I was demolishing a pile of rubble and earth and brambles with a pickaxe and I kept being ambushed by big fat frogs, yes, really.
About 6 or 7 at least, obviously cosily tucked into the waste piles which haven't been disturbed for years, and I ruined their happy home.
The funnies bits of this included me going to pick up a rock and yelping with surprise as the rock hopped away. One of my fellow gardeners was startled by my yelp and then burst out laughing.
Then when I threw something past him into the ditch, he said 'You didn't just throw a frog, did you!'
No. It was a bit of mushroom.
And later on a frog was crawling through the fence and actually looking at me.
'It's giving you the evil eye, JJ!'

Haha. That was funny, more funny to tell people this evening at the fondue party.
'Every time I lifted my pickaxe, a frog appeared!'

Anyway. We did a good hard day's work, and came home.
I had to have a long hot bath both because my muscles might seize up and make me ill and because I was going out this evening. What a lot to cope with in 24 hours!

I was collected for the fondue party, and we had a lovely evening and I came home wondering why my body and mind are withstanding all this so well.
Now the concern is tomorrow, an equally early start and tomorrow I will see if I have made myself ill from high impact work. I can certainly feel the effect on my body now, but if I can sleep well enough, my muscles may relax and then I won't get sick.

I hope Max is OK, I haven't been to see him since yesterday morning.

The weather has been and is, very cold indeed, everything will freeze again tonight.

Tuesday, 3 January 2017


Good morning peeps,

The world woke up and went back to normal today, how rude of it, I was getting used to the empty dream world where paperwork and deadlines don't exist.

Well this morning I was rudely awoken by the alarms going off and I had to get up to move Max.
Max has been a guest on the property of a local business owner over Christmas, most kind of him, but I was supposed to have a parking space here and someone else took it, so Max had to move to the place where he will be under a permit from this morning. Max was frozen solid with harsh frost and I had no de-icer left so I had to leave the engine running etc.

I trotted Max round to his new place. Then I had to go to the council to confirm the permit and do other registration documents. This was a good excuse for breakfast in town and on such a lovely sunny morning. Yes I have a day off.
The paperwork was fairly straighforward and stress-free, the council offices were surprisingly quiet apart from a stream of council staff who had forgotten their passcards. First day back after the holidays!

Anyway, so I have a day off, although there is no such thing in my world. I have plenty to do!

Then from tomorrow I am on garden clearance work, hard work and I will be meeting my workmate at 7.30am tomorrow to hitch a lift to work as there isn't enough parking at the site for my car and the van.

Talking of Vans, I was watching 'The lady in the Van' on iPlayer last night, it does resound with me, dunno why! And no comments required on that!

Monday, 2 January 2017

The Churchwarden

Available on Lulu and shortly also on Amazon and other booksellers.

The Churchwarden.


Good morning peeps,

Guess who went to work on a Bank Holiday! I did! My fellow gardener was keen to return to work and so we did.

But I haven't updated since I was going barmy for New Years. So let's catch up.

I did manage to sleep, and I woke up bright and relatively early on New Year's Day later in the morning.

New Year's Day was yesterday, Sunday, and so as it was still Christmas, I wandered nortily into my foster-church.
Now the while idea of a foster-church for a nortyperson is a church that doesn't get involved or really notice norty, because she is too traumatized by church, and so far they have always given me space, so I wander in, hide under a chair and listen to the service with huge round eyes and then scuttle out at the end.

But the foster church are getting a bit adoptive at the moment. They aren't supposed to do that. But as long as I maintain the boundaries, we will be fine. They are dragging me to a Birthday celebration this week though, which means I will be out two evenings this week as I have writer's circle as well, so looking forward to seeing my lovely writers circle, they are cool. But anyway it means I start the new year as a party animal, out twice in one week.

Anyway, so after a heartwarming church morning, I had my gardening mates sending me cheery texts and emails and I wondered why the world was all being nice to me!

I worked solidly on my new book, what new book? Yeah the third new book produced this Christmas! Not counting Tip of the Iceberg which I allowed to be a public domain one this week as well. Not recommending it, it is for evidence when I die.

Anyway, so I worked very hard to keep myself from falling apart, and I worked very hard full stop, and published the third new book for Christmas at just after midnight this morning.
I am supposed to advertise the books separately from the daily blog posts but never mind.

The new book, 'The Churchwarden' is out now on Lulu in e-book, paperback book and report manual.
It isn't an easy read.

After publishing this, I fell into bed, worried that I had to be up for work in the morning because my darned workmate was keen to get back to work. We are self-employed so we don't get paid annual leave.
Well I was right and wrong to be worried. I fell out of bed in time to dress and grab food and run for it, and then Max was frozen over so I had to curse a lot and defrost him. Getting back into work after the holidays is hard.

Yesterday it poured with rain but today the weather was very cold and sunny,

We were in at the deep end, working by the sea in the bitter cold wind, it was beautiful but bitter. The sea looked perfect for sailing and a number of people were sailing.

The work was in at the deep end, very hard clearance work, we filled four ton bags within four hours, and then I planted some shrubs while my mate put everything in the van and we went on to have our lunch and then to do the easier jobs.

Here I am home, I need to jump in the shower when the sausages finish cooking.
As usual I tend to sit down and be reluctant to jump in the shower.

Sunday, 1 January 2017

Happy New Year

The London fireworks were good, and the fireworks were still going off here when the London ones finished, they are still going off.
Will this be a better year?

Have you any idea how hard it is to get a hyper nortyperson to actually go to bed and sleep? Too much orange tango and tea!
Being a carer for a nortyperson is hard work, she's a bit like a mental spacehopper at at times like this.

Image result for picture of space hopper

Saturday, 31 December 2016

New Year's Revolutions

Hey peeps,

I remember how I was still alive and mischeevous when I used to do new year's revolutions such as converting the Church of England to Christianity, but now my back is broken, I am finished and dying branded and shamed, my only revolution is to finish writing my books before the church and their police finish killing me.

The Year 2016

It has been an incredibly hard year, not that there have been any easy years. I am only doing a brief recap of the year this year as I am moving house and am very tired and ill.
I feel I should still do an account of the year even if my heart isn't in it. And in a way I am worried that I am repeating what is already in the books 'Coming Home' and 'Homecoming'.


In January this year I was somehow surviving on almost no money at all due to unfairly losing my tax credits and my work was very low as well, the winter is a hard time for gardeners and for me it was my first year back in work and I had been living hand to mouth and unable to prepare for winter. So I was in absolute poverty in January.

I was doing my best with my second term at university but it was a sad hard time. Christmas Day 2015 was the last time I saw my friend alive and she died in January of this year.

I continued to fight to rebuild my life despite the sadness and poverty, as I had no idea that the Church of England would destroy me and make it all worthless a few months later.

There was that disastrous day in January when I woke up to a leak in the roof and water dripping onto my laptop, and then Florence broke down in the pouring rain and floods in the middle of nowhere as I delivered the papers round the villages. Thankfully I managed to bump start her and get her home, but she needed a new starter motor.

I was coming to the end of my work delivering papers on the rural routes now anyway as it had been too much stress for me and Florence, and we swapped for a smaller, local round.

The wet weather and local flooding continued.

I joined a running course and was running well but it was badly arranged and hard to keep up with. When my friend died, I remember running and crying, and I renamed the blog 'The Journey Home' for some reason. Partly because Jane Fisher seemed to have vanished and I felt almost as if I had a right to live again despite losing my best friend.
I didn't get on with all my friend's family and I chose not to attend the funeral, I couldn't cope with them and I was too weak myself.

I was doing my best, despite my terror, to endure hospital appointments about my jaw as I now had a good dentist and he had been concerned about my jaw, the hospital backed up this concern and wanted to splint my jaw and do biopsies and things, but I was so tired, so ill and so I bottled out of hospital treatment. Quite apart from anything, I couldn't afford to get to the hospital and pay for parking or bus fares, I had no money and no-one was helping me.

I was attending gym regularly and getting on with a lot of exercise, and I was working a very quiet delivery driving shift and getting a lot of study done while I sat and waited for deliveries.


In February I started some more work to tide me over, leaflet distribution. Hard and unrewarding work but at least it kept me fit and started to bring money in.

I was treated dreadfully bu the first company I did leaflets for but I was spotted by someone who got me to take on a leaflet job for them as well, they paid me properly and I applied to get my tax credits back, and eventually I ended up doing delivery driving for them when I was treated too badly by the other place. These jobs aren't nice or permanent but what mattered was that I was earning a living.

The weather turned from wet to icy and I continued to try to lower my blood pressure after the crisis with Bob Hill's collapse had sent me into blood pressure crisis.

I decided to go ahead with my sponsored 70 mile walk even though I felt awful, depressed and ill, and I knew it would be hard doing the walk without my friend or any support.

I was walking to raise money for a charity that my youth group used to support when I was younger, because that charity came up in my university studies as a case study. I planned the walk for Easter.

I went out with my social group, a rare thing now because the damage by the church had been such that I just didn't want to go out any more. I was sad that the social group were reluctant to support my walk.

It was a leap year but I didn't propose to anyone, so my poor old neighbour downstairs remained unmarried until he died, despite the fact that he called me beautiful every time he saw me.


March appears to be quite nondescript. On March 8th I fell and my house keys went flying and I did a little

I had a dream in March, it seems to have almost been a prophecy, about the police. As you know, the police turned up in September this year and I hit the roof.

This is from the dream I had in March

And the police turned up.
The police actually took things seriously and wanted to question me on what I had seen, imagine if that happened in real life!
Anyway. In the dream I was furious with the police because they have treated me so badly in real life.
So I raged at them for what they have done to me, and they stood there looking surprised.
Poor dream-officers, it wasn't all their fault!

Anyway, I woke up thinking 'What on earth!' Because that was way too vivid and cohesive.

March was nondescript, and I was short of money, and at one point I accidentally let Florence's battery go flat.

The Channel Islands were having ferry problems so I wrote them yet another poem.

The plight of the condor:

 Engine failure

mechanical issues
weather issues
new boat detained

Goodwill under water
Clipper in for repair
Liberation captured
and Islanders in Despair

I started the sponsored walk on Good Friday, trying to get ahead of the forthcoming bad weather. I didn't feel like walking or celebrating Easter, but the first day or two of the walk was good weather so I survived, I took time off from all my work except delivery driving as I was the only driver. But later in the week the weather turned very bad with wind and rain and it was hard to complete the last Great Walk.

The sponsored walk put me in the mood for a spring clean and clearout of the rubbish I owned, and that is how March ended.


My friend was taking me to Opera and ballet, and I liked ballet but not opera at first.

Justin Welby decided that he would announce to the world that he spat on Jesus, by using the press and media for a stunt about his various fathers. Amazinly the world let him do this and limelight seeking leaders in other churches 'supported' him.

I made a complaint to the papers and ofcom and ipso that as Welby's corporation were under investigation for systemic child rape, they should not be advertising themselves but should have the decency to be quiet while under investigation, even for the sake of their victims.

The fact that I was delivering newspapers and had to deliver Welby's narcissistic stunt to so many houses left me off work ill. And of course Welby doesn't care if one of his victims starve, as long as people are mistakenly worshipping him.

I started to try to arrange a support worker for myself but it was impossible in my poverty and the unstable situation that the church were keeping me in.

Towards the end of April I was starting to revise for a music exam and end of term assessments for university, and my landlady got me to clean a filthy flat with a dying resident in it, cleaning that flat made me ill and I was under stress over revision as well, so it wasn't an easy time.

Hillsbourough Campaigners started to win a much-deserved victory in April, and Junior Doctors started striking.

I wrote a blog post about Bob Hill, and I felt better for it, because I felt to blame for his collapse even though he had hurt me a lot in his efforts to 'solve' my case.

My landlady went through a weird phase of offering me a downstairs flat and withdrawing the offer repeatedly, leaving me confused and upset, she appeared to be having major problems in her own life and was acting bizarrely.


This was the month of my exams and also the month that the church destroyed me. It is hard to write about.

I am not sure I want to go through it all again. I have been destroyed and waiting to die ever since.

The music exam was at the beginning of the month, and there was already a problem with the landlady hanging around the house and being weird and I was under stress. Then the day before the exam I witnessed an accident outside the house, a collision between a van and a motorbike, which left me shocked.

I still got the exam and passed it.
But then I was ill with stress, tired and in pain from the injuries seizing up with stress.

Immediately the Church of England launched upon me as I tried to pull myself together and do my end of term assessments.

It might be easier for my health if rather than go into details of the evil committed against me by the Bishop of Winchester and Archbishop of Canterbury, aided by the National Safeguarding Team, I post this, which sums up why there was a million pound cover-up that condemned me and my life and upheld criminal wrongdoers

And so I was destroyed to cover up for evil. And there is no safeguarding in the Church of England.

The church had spent a million pounds covering up for their evil and doing so at the expense of my life and health, and they wanted to bring it to a close, at my expense, in the press and media, discrediting me and upholding the wrongoders.

The damage is done and it would have been better if I had died in May. They continue to refuse to redact their discrediting and bring an independent investigation into my case, well if they did allow an investigation a number of people would have to resign or be arrested.


I managed to scrape through my university exams despite there being no point in life any more.

And it was all only getting worse.

I was being plagued by an idiot called Jane Dodds who wanted the Church cover-up neatly swept away and me co-erced into saying that being utterly destroyed was fine. She was caseworker for the national safeguarding team of the church on a voluntary basis before she suddenly vanished after adding to the harm to me.

But it was all worse, the situation where I lived had already been precarious before the church destroyed me, and I felt that I had no choice but to give notice, and I did. 

My work was falling apart as well, and Florence, the car, was due her MOT and I was sure I couldn't get her through the MOT.

I was going to lose Florence and my home and the rest of my life was already destroyed by the church, it felt as if all my work in rebuilding my life had been for nothing.

Bob Hill came out of hospital after many months but he couldn't speak, he wasn't quite the same Bob.

And then my tax credits were restored, so Florence went back to her old owners to be overhauled and sold on, I took Max, her younger brother, off their hands for a bit more than I paid for Florence.

I wrote this:

Jersey's failed and disgraced safeguarding partnership started harassing me in earnest over their whitewash report into my case and trying to force me to agree to it's publication, just as I prepared to move house and just after the move.

The house move and buying Max left me short of money and I nearly became dangerously ill with low blood sugar when food ran out.

I moved to the new house at the end of June. I was utterly exhausted, destroyed by the church and not sure what to do, I knew that the new place wasn't going to be a permentant home, it was right by a pub and with no parking and was mainly benefits tenants and a lot more run down than the old place. But what could I do? Everything I had built up was smashed down.


I started looking for more work despite the state I was in, I couldn't afford to sit around, but I was too unsure of most of the work that was on offer, but a gardening team who I had been in contact with in the past offered me sub-contract work and I took them up on it and have been working with them part time ever since as well as doing my own gardening rounds.

Max started having catalyst problems, and as I write this, we intend to change his catalyst in the new year. But it was worrying to start with as I didn't know what was wrong.

I started writing and preparing Manuscripts, and in July I started writing 'Coming Home' which kept me sane and occupied after my whole world had collapsed and been swept away, and I managed to keep going as a result, even with increasingly vile attacks by Jersey safeguarding partnership, culminating in their famous troll attack instigated by Ian Gorst.


On the same day as Battle of Flowers in Jersey, I marshaled for the local carnival. I hadn't marshaled since I used to marshal for Battle when I was in Jersey. If I wasn't in such a broken state then I would have said that this was a positive sign but after the horrific unhealable wounds inflicted by the church and Jersey Safeguarding Partnership, I wasn't recovering, I just happened to marshal, and it wasn't brilliant really, I just got posted outside a local church who I had been helping and they treated me like royalty, apart from that I didn't enjoy marshaling and wasn't fit to be there. I pretended it was great and wonderful but I felt like death.

On August 22nd I published my first three books, 'Goodnight Anna', 'Coming Home' and 'The Silent World'. And the books haven't stopped. I think including some in private circulation, there are about 18, and some of those are duplicated into other forms as well, such as e-books.

I re-started my music lessons which had been ruined by the church and poverty and I was revising for a grade 5 exam.

I had no idea what was about to happen.


Before the world shattered, I was preparing a new book, and I was starting to do short story competitions as well as preparing for university and revising for my grade 5 exam.

On September 3rd, in a grotesque parody of my old life, I stewarded at a local horticultural show, but to me it was just going through the motions, what I had before is gone forever, my community, my friends, my shows, the church destroyed it all, and I felt more sad and useless than anything else, but the people wanted me to start showing again for next year and they were trying to arrange me some land, which would have gone ahead if the police attack hadn't happened.

You may remember I posted this:

“I sit alone in a dead world. The wind blows hot and dry, and the dust gathers like particles of memory waiting to be swept away. I pray for forgetfulness, yet my memory remains strong, as does the outstretched arm of the oppressive air. It seems as if the wind has been there since the beginning of the nightmare. Sometimes loud and harsh, a thousand sharp needles scratching at my reddened skin. Sometimes a whisper, a curious sigh in the black of night, of words more frightening than pain. I know now the wind has been speaking to me. Only I couldn't understand because I was too scared. I am scared now as I write these words. Still, there is nothing else to do.”

Christopher Pike - Whisper of Death

September 5th 2016, it was raining in the morning, just enough to delay my work, so I was out and about, doing other things.

It was when I came back that my world stopped. I don't know if the shock and revulsion and terror will ever fade.

All was well, well as well as it could be after the horrific damage by the church and safeguarding partnership, and I was walking up to the flats, my landlord was working on the shop below the flats and he said hello and smiled, and I said hello and smiled, all normal, and then the world stopped and never re-started.

My landlord said to me 'You see that car there? That car belongs to two police, a woman and a man and they have come to see you'.

I am crying as I write this. I am severely traumatized. It was the end of my home, my safety and the last remnants of the life I had rebuilt, my safety and welfare depended on being a fugitive, and the bastards had found me.

My landlord told me that this man and woman had come all the way to find me, quite a journey, and they were 'concerned for my welfare'. They had come all the way from Jane Fisher's local police station, Jane Fisher, who repeatedly had me beaten and imprisoned to silence me for the church.

Those of you who don't know what 'concern for my welfare'  means, it means the police consider you to be insane and meriting a beating and imprisonment for your abusers.

The most horrifying things about this were that the bastards had actually been discussing me with my landlord, but worse, they had been able to trace me after all my efforts to be in hiding. I was done for, my new identity was my safety, the thing I relied on to not be branded and driven out, and the bastards would probably have ripped through my whole life, friends, community and private records and privacy and contacts, in order to destroy me again as they were doing now.

The one and only advantage I had was that the bastards had left their car and gone off somewhere.

I was hungry and I couldn't flee without my ID and food and things I needed, so I had no choice but to go into my flat.

Unfortunately the bastards came back as I did so, I had told the landlord that when they came back, to tell them to leave and never come back or I would make a harassment complaint. 
But unfortunately he had given them my phone number. And I was trapped in my home because they wouldn't leave.

Instead of leaving, the bastards tried to phone me.

I told them to leave or I would make a harassment complaint.

They weren't taking no for an answer and tried to text me.

I emailed professional standards and told them to get their bastards off my doorstep.

The bastards tried to leave but their car broke down and my landlord had to help them bump start it as they didn't know how!  He never stopped laughing but I wasn't laughing, because when they showed no sign of leaving, I climbed out the skylight and onto the roof, and I am scared of heights, I was terrified, traumatised and sobbing as my world shattered again.
I haven't recovered even now, as you may have noticed, I am very ill, and the police and professional standards have done nothing to rectify anything, nor explain this illegal violation of my home.

Well actually although the bastards left, they have been really nasty about my complaint, as have professional standards, and have jeered by sending letters in my old name for me to sign for when I am not allowed to and to see letters turning up in the flats under my old name and breaching the law and my identity change added to the horrific trauma, and as yet nothing has been done, and professional standards, knowing my new name as the police who turned up here did, also sent letters to me under every name but my own.

I haven't recovered. And there has been no resolution. I never felt safe in my home and the shock, the trauma, the revulsion, of being violated and having my new identity and new clean record ripped from me has left me deteriorating and depressed and afraid. Every time I heard a car engine I rushed to the window.

You will see from September's blog posts and lack of blog posts, that things were very bad.

My relationship with the landlord and fellow tenants was never the same again, and to be honest the whole street, gossips that they were, and the pub, knew all about it, but the police and professional standards have not apologized.

Instead of going on the run and sleeping rough permanently, I decided to hang onto my home and stand my ground. But I didn't re-settle in the flat, it stank of shame and revulsion, and the problem of the noise from the upstairs neighbour became worse and I stopped sleeping properly.


I continued to publish books. The Wanderer Series was halfway now.
University started and I just had to do my best despite everything.

I continued work as well.

On the Anniversary of being left homeless, I went to Southampton Airport as usual.

While working with the team we survived being pulled over at a police checkpoint.

Then I got some sad news that an old Christian friend had died. 

I went to a day school and I tried to prepare for my grade 5 exam but I was struggling so much.


November started catastrophically with professional standards jeering at me over my police complaint on the eve of my grade 5 exam, I broke a tooth the same evening, and also the same evening I coughed blood as my esophogus started bleeding again. 

I went and took the exam and then my adoptive mum who was supposed to meet me afterwards didn't turn up and Max redeveloped his catalyst fault as I headed for Winchester to celebrate North Walls.

I could hardly enjoy North Walls as I was too ill, and someone parked illegally, blocking Max in and I had to risk him getting a puncture as I had to bump him over kerbs.

When I got home I was violently ill, vomiting without stopping until there was only blood and bile coming up. It was supposed to be such a special weekend and there had been no good in the year at all and the weekend had been as bad as it could be, and yes, I failed the exam. I am mortified. My exams mean so much to me and I have to pay so much for them. I won't say things can't get worse, because the next church or police attack will be my horrible and messy death.

Anyway, work and university continued, even if I wasn't doing well at university. I went back on omeprazole and my esophogus stopped bleeding.

I got befriended by an old lady but she was extremely demanding and I couldn't cope with her, she wanted me to move in and be her housekeeper and all sorts, but I will tell you in full another time about that, it was totally unsuitable even if I was looking for another home.

My old dentist who was the only good dentist I ever saw, had left the practice and the new one filed my broken tooth down and had a bridge made up, but she kept ramming this bridge onto my sore gum and she wasn't English and didn't seem to understand that she was hurting me, I never wore the bridge in the end.
It is so unfair that I had found a good dentist and then he left.


December started with a bang. The bangs and crashes were from the upstairs neighbour at 2.45am in the morning, and I gave my notice when the landlord wouldn't do anything about this.

So I spent December looking for a new home and packing up my stuff.

I was very depressed and unhappy, but work and university continued, and I was offered a temporary home.
I was relieved at the thought of leaving the home that the police had destroyed, I was terrified every day that I remained there.

I tried to keep my life normal and prepare both for Christmas and the house move. It was stressful and I messed up a music assignment but scraped a pass.

My books about homelessness were beginning to grow a following.

Christmas arrived, and it wasn't too awful in some ways.

I enjoyed all the Christmassy television  and the lights and decorations, I was worried about money, because having put a deposit on the new place etc, I hadn't enough even for food, let alone celebrations, but several people stepped in and all was well.

I had just been to midnight mass and as I walked home, the police had closed the road and there was a dead man there, he had been murdered. That cast a shadow over Christmas a bit.

On Christmas morning I went to church and then spent the day with some people who live nearby, it was a nice enough day.

On boxing day I went to support the boxing day swim and came home, there was a strange man hanging around and I asked the police if it was a crackpot or one of their DCs, because this man hung around for ages and rang my doorbell but I didn't recognize him, he may have been a parasitic reporter about the murder up the road.

Anyway. I moved house a few days later and I am here at the new house, just finishing telling you about this terrible devastating year, and it sounds like many people have had a bad year.

The USA have a new president and the UK are leaving the Eurpoean Union and everyone us stressed and uncertain, it hasn't been a good year for anyone. But for me it has been pure hell and there seems to be no way it can get better, the damage to me can't really be repaired.

Happy New Year.