This is a merge of my 'Wanderer' blog that tells of two years of my three years on the streets, and a new blog that tells of my life after the Diocese of Winchester ripped through my life for for the last few years on top of the previous serious harm that left me homeless
This is a day to day blog of my life as I continue to survive, work on recovery and on the social problems that I have and try to come to terms with limitless traumas I have survived along the way.
This blog is in tandem with my blog about my experiences in the Church of England

The former name of this blog and the name of it's sister blog are to do with my sense of humour, which I hope to keep to the end, which appears to be ever more rapidly approaching. At least I laughed, and I laughed at the people who were destroying me. Don't forget that.

Here are my books, which I wrote for you if you would like to know more:

Tuesday, 5 September 2017


Good morning peeps,

Well I am trying to use the newer orthapedic pillow with the head support, but it is only partially successful. It is a bit too firm.
I didn't have such bad terrors in the night, although it is never good to be terrorized, I woke in fright from a bad dream and mainly I just re-lived the police seige of my home a year ago today, another mischief by the unregulated and dangerous church of england.

I will tell you about it, I guess, because I never did.

But first I will catch you up on yesterday. Yesterday I didn't work on the estate with the boys, I worked down at the marina with the peace and quiet and the fishes and boats.

I was mainly doing heavy work, using the heavy hedgecuter to cut hedges. It was a damp and muggy day, not nice to work in, but for the occasional breeze blowing the rain and sweat and cooling me down.

It was peaceful, and I had coffee and lunch when I needed.

I did ache though, but because of this machine I have, I can work hard and ache without getting sick.
Although my shoulder did ache in the night.

I was so tired last night, I watched Hollyoaks and had an early night.

Am tired now, and the weather is dodgy, I have the care home and one of my old ladies if the weather allows.


It was the day after the horticultural show, I had stewarded, I had shadowed the judge, and I had been told to start growing and competing again for next year, but I saw little point in any of it after what the church had done to me.
It was an ordinary day. Or so I thought. Monday September 5th 2016, 6 months after the Church of England had me publicly and finally destroyed and presumably hoped that I would suicide.

A year ago today it was raining in the morning, not heavy rain, but the weather had been wet enough to leave the ground too wet to work, so I delayed work.
Incredibly the rain a year ago today is exactly the same as today.

I had Max, the car, parked outside the front, and I was running errands, doing laundry and loading junk into Max to take to my store.

My landlord was getting two unemployed tenants, a couple who lived in the flat opposite me, to clean the house, this happened sometimes and I think he paid them.
I was dodging round them to load my car, and we laughed and joked.
I was hoping to go to work in the afternoon as the weather was due to clear. I had no idea what was about to happen.

I went to the laundry and the store, and I came home to get lunch and work things.

The world ended.

My landlord was working on the old shop that he was converting to a laundry room. He would always stop and talk but I didn't expect what he said.

He told me that the silver car outside the house was a police car and that a male and a female officer had come to see me, and he told them I was probably at work now, and they had said they would go away and come back in an hour. I will always wonder where they actually went, presumably to rally the troops to beat me up.

He said they had walked into the flats and he had found them there,  but they had no warrant. He said they were claiming to be 'concerned' about me. Well why did the police allow the church to destroy me despite my claims for help if they were 'concerned' about me?!

I told the landlord that when the police came back then I had said that they were to leave or I would make a harassment complaint.

As he had said they would be back in an hour, I thought I had time to get a backpack and flee the property. But he must have called them as they came back as soon as I went into the flat.

I was trapped in my flat with the police, landlord and the various nosey neighbours and drunkards outside the pub outside, and the police had no respect for my privacy and welfare as they tried to force my old name and identity back upon me and on my community and landlord. The police have always treated me with contempt and behaved badly to me, and this was no exception.

My landlord stupidly gave the police my private number - he later said it was to get rid of them as they refused to leave.
The policewoman tried to phone me and I told her to leave or I would make a harassment complaint.

She then tried to text me, wittering about not wanting to cause me distress and alarm - don't be stupid, the police have not only aided the church in destroying me, but have refused to stop serious, evidenced, and criminal harm to me by the church and have even tried to tell me that the church aren't doing anything illegal when they have been doing. The police are outright liars and will lie to get what they want, they are callous dishonest brutes, and telling me they didn't want to cause me distress and alarm was a repeat of ever police lie I have heard, and I have heard many.

I texted back that she was to leave or I would make a harassment complaint. I was shocked and broken, destroyed and in collapse, as these police remained outside, having destroyed my new identity and life and left me knowing I would have to leave my home and community.

I feared for my life as the police refused to leave, and I got my backpack, the police were downstairs outside the flats with my landlord and the nosey neighbours, one of the police was sitting in the car, drawing big lines through a paper document.
 I went upstairs in the flats and climbed out on the roof. I am scared of heights and it was a long way and I was terrified.

I didn't know what was going on down there, I heard people mowing about, the female police officer was wearing stilettos, would you believe it? They were plain clothes, but why was that even allowed? I heard her stilettos clopping up to the door of the flats, and clopping back again, presumably the landlord closed the door so they couldn't just walk in.

I didn't know what was going on as you can't see much from the roof without tumbling over and I get vertigo and am scared of heights. But I knew the car was still there.

After a while I heard a car, didn't know if it was theirs, I texted the officer and asked if they had gone as I needed to pack a  bag and flee my home. She replied that they had, and I said don't come back, I will be making a harassment complaint.

I was so humiliated that I never wanted to see my landlord again, but he seemed unruffled, but because I didn't know what the bastards had said to him, I couldn't trust him. He told me that the police car had broken down and the clueless lady in stillettos hadn't been able to understand a bump start so he and the male officer had to do the bump start.

I told the landlord that the police had worked with my abusers to hound and destroy me, and I was a fugitive and I was going to have to move.
The landlord asked if freemasonry was involved and I said yes, to a certain extent at least. He said it all made sense and the local masons got away with murder, he had plenty of time to tell me all about it but I felt in immediate danger. He told me it was a 'Masonic Warning' and I told him I wished the Masons would get on with it as my life is worthless.

The landlord asked if I was just going on the run? I told him I didn't know. I had my backpack of clothes, food and medicine, and I was going somewhere, but I didn't know where. He wasn't the type to worry, or even care, as long as the rent was paid or I gave notice.

I went, I took Max, but I didn't know where I was going, I didn't know if I could safely cross any borders, I didn't know if the police were on the lookout for me, I was afraid and started to get confused, every flashback to police injustice and violence and lies and jeers overwhelmed me.

I texted my adoptive mum, and she asked where I was, but I didn't know. I didn't know what to do or if I had eaten or anything, those who read my blog know that I get like this when the church harm me and cause me shock with their vile lying press and media releases about my case.

I wasn't sure I should be driving. I took my things to the store. I don't know what I did. I went home late that evening, expecting trouble, but it was all quiet, and I tried to sleep. I didn't know how I was going to live and work any more, I was shattered. I didn't put any lights on in the flat and I went to the window every time a car went past.

For a few weeks it was like that, I pretended not to be there, I told the people I worked for that I had a virus. And I worked when I could. But my world, my life, the safe new identity life, was over, and seemingly for no reason.

There had been no warning to the police attack, and there was seemingly no reason to it either.
The people I told about the police behaviour said it was utterly wrong and inexcusable.

The police then tried to send me a letter in my old name, thankfully I was in charge of the post box and the post for the flats, and found the non-delivery slip for recorded delivery. I could not believe the police's cruelty or criminal harm, they knew both that my name had changed -they had used my legal name when they seiged the property, and they knew that anyone at the house could see the letter in my damned, condemned old name, the name of the person they and the church had destroyed.

I had made a complaint on September 5th 2016, when the police attacked the flat, and professional standards had tried to rubbish me but I had sent the complaint to the IPCC so professional standards had stopped trying to rubbish me, but now the matter was getting more serious, and the police then tried to force this wrongly addressed letter on me by email, coldly as well.
I escalated the complaint.

Professional standards, the police and the IPCC amused themselves by sending letters to my flat addressed to anyone but me, and I kept escalating the complaint.

A year later I have continued to endure harm and denial from the police, there has been no credible excuse for their harassment of me, presumably they can't say outright 'The church told us to harass you but they daren't bring charges because of the evidence against THEM!'

The formal complaint is not settled and I endure regular bullshitting from professional standards and the IPCC, but the police have broken the law and left me broken too, and I won't stop fighting them for justice not just for the attack a year ago, but for the decade of police brutality and jeers and imprisonments while they refused to stop the church's open and evidenced criminal harm to me. It is lifelong damage that can never be healed though.

I did leave the flats where the police had me shamed and destroyed, I was afraid 24 hours a day and never re-settled, and I live still in terror, because if they can do that once, they can do it again, and as they hate and brand me and aid my abusers, they will. I was safer on the streets and I slept better on the streets. I am trapped in trauma and fear now, a real fugitive, waiting for them to find me again and wondering just what damage they did in illegally and violatingly tracing me before.

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