That says it all...

Gavin Ashenden

Due to the incredible increase in views of this blog, obviously due to Ashenden behaving badly (or acting out his insanity) I decided to update this post from a while back:

Well, Gavin Ashenden is performing in the spotlight again.
He is apparently in the National press with his recent opinion on Islam.

I know he reads my blog, usually from the safety of Yemen or Normandy, but I know he won't mind me blogging about him, as he is never averse to maligning me or hurting other people's feelings.

Some peaople might expect me to write an open letter, about how he shouldn't be telling Muslims how to live when he hasn't worked out what Christianity is all about yet, But actually, he can make enough of a fool of himself and the church without my help.

Peacekeeper from Yemen, trouble stirrer from Jersey.

Do you remember Pepper Anne?

'...He's his own biggest fan...
Ashenden, Ashenden'

Here is the recent Story of Ashenden and Islam, as told by a Jersey Blogger:

http://tonymusings.blogspot.co.uk/2015/03/httpwww.html

Afterthought on Islam from me.
I do not like the way the media are playing up these stories of young people being radicalised. It is scaremongering. The Churchwarden's wife used to include in her daily fears that we were going to taken over by Muslims and it would be awful for us women.
I used to live among Muslims. They were peaceful, respectful and had good senses of humour, their beliefs lead them to have a set of ethics, something that Catholics and Buddhists have but the Church of England lacks.

Gavin Ashenden saw an advert in the church rag (Times) and it said 'Come and work where clergy discipline cannot reach you! Golden sand, corruption, old boys and favours in kind'.
So he went to work in Jersey.
It is a puzzle then why he is trying to take over in Normandy!

Further Ashenden reading and links for recent viewers after his most recent rantings.

 http://www.opnlttr.com/letter/letter-jersey-deanery-15-october-2013

 http://whatreallyhappenedinthechurch.blogspot.co.uk/2015/08/lies-that-bishop-willmott-tells-us.html#.Vojvp1LP7D4

 http://whatreallyhappenedinthechurch.blogspot.co.uk/2015/09/ashenden-googles-himself.html#.VorLElLP7D4

 http://whatreallyhappenedinthechurch.blogspot.co.uk/2015/05/gavin-ashenden-2.html#.VorLSlLP7D4

A homeless person's letter

This letter in the Daily Mirror reminds me of my own struggles. It is so sad that yet again, someone who wants a better life has it wrecked by drug people and limited and stringent homeless services.
Thank you to the Ark for looking after him. RIP.
http://www.mirror.co.uk/news/uk-news/heartbreaking-letter-written-homeless-man-7102742

How Many Homeless people can you fit in this hospitable place? :)

A look back at 2015, July to December

July:

I had a sad start when I was told that the car I had been offered on loan was not available. I didn't blog this as I was afraid that talking about any possible progress in my life would trigger a vengeful attack by Jane Fisher, who is a very jealous lady and spent so much time destroying me and everything I had built up in my past life.

Anyway, life went on, struggling to get to work and carry tools and equipment on the bus, although my friend helped me out with lifts wherever she could.
 The blue bike was also complicating things by playing up at this point.

I continued physiotherapy and sea swims but wasn't paying any attention to diets and gym.

What I wrote on July 13th 2015 is so profound that I thought I may as well add it in here:

 http://lifeafterthediocese.blogspot.co.uk/2015/07/monday-morning.html 

This is the song that reminds me of the summer of 2015, although it comes from the sad circumstances of Pheobe's funeral in Hollyoaks.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WpyfrixXBqU

Hollyoaks became my best way of chilling out after a hard day at work early on in 2015.
 It is shallow and not always well-researched, but even my adoptive Mum says there is nothing wrong with something like Hollyoaks to help me relax and take my mind off things.
 I never thought I would be a soap fan.

Through the year I had been occasionally remembering to go out with my mates to cinema and other events, but not often, especially as money was tight. I started pen pal letters as a safe and easy form of armchair socialising, not sure what the armchair thought, but I still enjoy penpalling very much and my pen pals are like real friends. A lot of shy people or people who find socialising difficult find pen palling a good way of socialising.

On 16th/17th July, life changed again.
I had put a bit of money aside from tax credit backlog. And I saw a car on the local marketplace site. I decided that this car was either too good to be true or perfect for me when I read the advert.
So my long-suffering friend came out in the evening and drove me to look at this car.
 My last car in Jersey after Anna's demise had been a bum steer, so I was quite worried about buying a car. I had been having refresher lessons in July due to the fact I hadn't driven since Jersey. But I was very wary of re-introducing things into my life that had been left behind in Jersey. On the other hand due to my work, there was no way I could go on paying for expensive bus passes for unreliable buses. The only was was forward now.

So the day I went to the cinema with my mate to see 'Self/less' which you know is now my favourite DVD, F.P Nortycar, otherwise known as Florence, became my car. I was nervous from the start, an old car like Florence, even though she is a Peugeout, is a constant worry as to how long she will last and when she might break down, I just look after her as best I can.
I was very nervous to drive her at first and the night we collected her, my friend came back with me on that first drive, with her family following behind and guarding us from impatient cars.

Florence broke down two days after I got her. Norty little madam that she is.
For two weeks I was undecided as to what to do, money was low and to even have her towed would be expensive, I didn't have any car equipment and no mobile mechanic was available, while no-one I knew had any mechanical experience. I felt stupid and awful.
She broke down on the morning I was due to go to see my new therapist, so I grabbed my bike and ran for it.
I got to my therapy on time and my therapist is still my therapist, isn't he a brave man?

After almost two weeks, everyone in my life was telling me to contact the car's previous owners and ask them if they knew what might have gone wrong and if they had any jump leads.
I still didn't know if they had sold me a pup at this point and was nervous. But I contacted them. They came round promptly with jump leads, it turned out he was a skilled mechanic and knew this car very well, he discovered that it wasn't the battery, but the ignition amplifier had failed, he replaced it, and he became the car's best friend, assisting with any problems, he had probably been maintaining this car for years, hence it being in such good shape. But now with the car back on the road, I suddenly regained confidence and the memory of driving before.


By now I was already doing study preparation for University, which was due to start in October.

I was also addicted the 'Humans' series on Channel 4, and I have the DVDs now.

The weather in July was good, and I biked and swam and enjoyed BBQs and Bonfires.

My first music exam must have been in the summer, but I can't find it in the blog.

August: 

Well, August started with a bang. My landlady's daughter had moved herself in and then the landlady suddenly said she was moving a family with children in and we could like it or leave. A family with children would be impossible for me to live with, so I started to search for somewhere else, very upset.

I soon found the flat I am now in, and it was unfurnished so I had to look at furnishing it before I moved in.

I also started doing the paper rounds by car as I was now covering extra rounds.

I proceeded with the move to the flat. The upheaval left me unsettled as I had expected to stay where I was longer. Thankfully my friend helped me through the bewilderment and emptiness with tea and sympathy.

The rest of August was spent on trying to furnish the flat and make it into home. I was now completely independent and self-contained, all bills and responsibilities were mine. But at least I was no longer doing all the housework for a whole house.

Unfortunately the house move and moving heavy furniture, while also helping another family move, led to me tearing a muscle in my shoulder, which took a long slow time to mend.

The move to the flat took me some distance from the paper shop, and trying to do the papers by bike was no longer working, so I went by car every day. Then I was offered the rural routes for more money, and the car was essential. I was now having to get up very early in order to get to the paper shop for 6.30 and get the paper bundle to the rural distributor before doing my new rounds.

September:

September started with my adoptive Mum coming over for the Royal Inspection of the flat. She approved. 
Then the sofa bed saga occured. I had been sleeping on the floor of the flat when I moved in, and because the flat is small, I thought a sofa bed would be good. But the sofa bed was so uncomfortable that I didn't sleep well, my friend brought camping mattresses round and that helped a bit, but now getting up early, still unsettled in the new place and not sleeping well, it was all putting stress on me,  my injured shoulder was also suffering from the sofa bed.
The doctors had put me on codeine for my shoulder and I was even more ill.
After a while I had to beg the local welfare scheme for help, and they had a bed delivered promptly, God bless them.
I also decided I needed just a few days off from doing the papers, and that was a lifesaver, I slept in and felt better.

 On Friday September 11th, my friend came round to my flat, she was worried about me being ill and she had brought me another camping mattress to make sure I was comfy.
She was coughing, she thought she had a chest infection and she was considering seeing the doctor as it hadn't cleared up.
Unfortunately it wasn't a chest infection. And it wasn't pneumonia, which was the next guess.

The next thing I heard was that she was in hospital. 
She was terminally ill and the illness had crept in and got a hold. Already there was little they could do.

 Florence P. Nortycar also tried to quit life at this point, she blew her head gasket and that was nearly the end of her, thankfully her best friend was prepared to fix her. She was off the road for 10 days though so I couldn't do the rural routes and had to just bike round my old round instead.

My dental problems continued and I was increasingly unhappy about that.


I ended September by nominating the Bishop of Winchester as spiritual guide for the envoy to Mars.

October:

October is anniversary month, so it can be gloomy. I did what I do every year regarding one anniversary, the one where I was left destroyed and homeless by the Church of England. I went to Southampton airport, and walked down to collect myself from arrivals.

 http://lifeafterthediocese.blogspot.co.uk/2015/10/the-5th-anniversary.html

Now I was also officially starting university, having started studying in preparation in July.

My friend came home from hospital and she seemed happy but tired, she said she didn't mind dying, but of course I minded that she was dying.

Up until this point the Church of England had been fairly quiet except for a jeer about 'God's people being safe in the churches in Jersey' well what about the normal people and the vulnerable? With a paedophile protector as lay chair of the Jersey synod and my abuser still lauded and upheld while I was destroyed, real people aren't safe in Jersey's churches and I was left shocked and distressed by Bishop Willmott's duplicitous statement,

But now the Jersey Deanery, led by their 'lay chair' attacked with full force, stomping like two year olds and demanding their whitewash report again, and abusing the press and media in order to get themselves heard.
The press and media and random strangers in turn abused me over this matter.

This continued into November, seriously disrupting my university studies and music studies.

Thre DWP, HMRC and council also decided to bombard me with rubbish and confusing stuff at this point too.

The bad anniversaries coninued with the church attacks.
It was a horrible October and November.

November:

Early in November, very ill from the onslaught by the Jersey Deanery, and also now physically ill as well, I went to sit another music exam. The church hatred and onslaught had trashed my revision but I decided to sit the exam anyway.
I really couldn't tell how well I had done at the time. But my adoptive Mum met me outside the exam hall and took me to lunch and we had fun at one of my old favourite cafes, before I proceeded to do something that is omitted from this blog much as most of the Jersey Deanery onslaught is, I just really wanted to blog as normal and say nothing.
After I left my Mum when we finished lunch, I drove to Winchester.

Winchester was quiet and normal, and as usual I tried to get over the feeling of sickness and disgust that is the legacy of the way Jane Fisher and Michael Scott-Joynt destroyed and defamed and drove me from my home town humiliated and destroyed.
Today was a triumph over their sickening exile of me from my home town and loved ones.

I walked up to the Broadway.
There weren't many people yet.
I got my wristband and I waited.
People began to gather. 
It began to get dark and the atmosphere began to build.
I was restless and excited as I always have been.
I got my firebrand, I was a bit too eager, I lit it while others were keeping theirs unlit.
 I realised I was too early so I put it out again.

I waited, and there was plenty of space to move around, and it got later, things were running late now, firebrands were being lit.

The crowd gathered and increased, and more people asked to light their firebrand from mine, the more people who ask you for a light for their firebrands, the luckier you will be.
And then we were off, walking up the hight street with our brands, looking back at the line of lights following.
I raise my firebrand high in the air and joyful as the flame burns bright:

Winchester, my heart, my home my heritage! 
Nothing they do can take you from my heart!
Nothing they can do can take you from my heart! 
Winchester, my Heart, my Home, my Heritage!

We proceed round onto Jewry Street,  the noise, the lights, the crowds, my heritage, my memory, all I ever knew. The crowds who split onto George Street rejoin us as we walk to the halted traffic on City Road and round down onto North Walls.

Those years ago, North Walls was free, but because of council regulations, they have to charge now. But it doesn't matter, it is still North Walls. We stream in onto the field, the floodlights partially light the field, and all around the edges are the food vans and attractions as the atmosphere builds and people begin queueing.
There is a sad empty space beside me for the people who used to be there with me, should still be there, but the diocese took them away.
But North Walls is immortal and beyond the vengeful rage of Jane Fisher.

The bonfire and fireworks are awesome, of course.
And then I head home.

North Walls of the past (scroll down the post a bit): 

 http://whatreallyhappenedinthechurch.blogspot.co.uk/2014/02/anything-and-everything-and-happy.html#.VoVrt1LP7D4

I found a new dentist who has been repairing my teeth very well.

Then the world shattered.

Bob Hill collapsed, presumably with the stress of his battle with Philip Bailhache and the press and media and Church of England over my case. I had been begging him to back down and leave the case alone but Bob was a law unto himself. He collapsed and for a few days I didn't know if he was still alive or if he had ever woken.
In that time I kept a candle burning, the guiding light to draw him off the ghost roads, and I offered God my life in return for his. 
This song became 'Bob's Theme' as I waited to find out what had happened. All I could do was fight for his life in prayer and spirit. It is true he hurt me badly, but he had my welfare at heart.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2nnw4STQMSc

 http://lifeafterthediocese.blogspot.co.uk/2015/11/guiding-light.html

When I saw Bob, he was awake, lucid and with some movement, he understood some of what I said but he had no ability to speak, which broke my heart as he had spoken for me, and had been speaking in my defence when he collapsed and I believe it is why he collapsed.
I wish him a speedy recovery. 
In his collapse he also saved my life again, because I ended up at the hospital with a blood pressure reading of 180/113. I didn't know how ill I was until Bob collapsed.
I have been under constant and severe stress for so long, my blood pressure has to be regulated and medicated, and as a result I am trying to live very healthily, with a vegeterian diet and no cows milk, regular diet and fitness appointments and trips to the gym.

I blame the Church of England for ruining Bob's retirement, they refused to give him a hearing on my behalf and went on and on attacking my life, so a good man ended up ruined.

The darkness and distress and horror went deep, and despite the state I was in, the NHS refused to help me properly, and I had been forced to stop seeing my therapist due to the church crisis and lack of money as the gardening season went down and I struggled to find replacement work while I was in the awful state that the church left me in.

I was missing the cranky old cat from the old house so I got a new pet, remember him?
 


I started a delivery driving job, which lasted a month. They overworked me and didn't pay me.
But I started it on November 24th and quit at 11pm on December 24th when they weren't paying me so december was so thin and horrible and they wanted me to keep working on Christmas eve and not go to midnight mass and they were rude about my faith. That is the tip of the iceberg, I never wrote it in the blog because I like you to think everything is OK as much as possible.
 My response to their crass behaviour on Christmas eve night? 'The Baby Jesus comes first you stupid f*ckers!'. 
I worked willingly even though they made me work all the time, changed my start times every day, and really were not nice. 
I have had so many instances in my life of staying in miserable and abusive situations, most notably in the church of England, that I am having to learn not to be afraid to break free quickly no matter what the cost. As my former psychologist said, I am easily exploited. I hate that.

Anyway, onwards into december.
  

December:

A positive start with a good needs assessment that recommended support and communication technology.
Then more worrying news.
My adoptive parents started having health scares, so my Mum couldn't come over and help me with the net curtains.

The car had a service and some work that needed doing was flagged up, so the car's best friend did some of the work.

I then made another journey. And as I said on the blog 'Road to hell' comes to mind.

I felt very sad that due to the people I was delivery driving not paying me, I was left unable to prepare for Christmas or help with shoebox appeals or toy appeals or anything, those things are part of my Christmas, but with barely enough money to feed the electric meter, I could do nothing.

My phone got broken and I had no money to repair it, which added to the chaos.

I managed to enjoy local carols and Christmas tree festivals and temporarily joined a church as I missed the church at Christmas too much.

To add to the thin and unhappy time, my friend who is terminally ill was deteriorating, and we didn't know if she would make it to Christmas. But she wanted me there on Christmas day, if she was still there. This was really hard to live with.

I had some early Christmad presents including a wonderful tv/dvd player from my friends who I did some work shifts for, as they were relocating.

Then my customers on the rural paper routes started giving me Christmas cards and tips, so I started to be able to feed the electic meter and get Christmas things.

I got conjunctivitis just to add to everything.

Then I was offered a local paper round that I can do on the blue bike, because I think the very early starts and distances and wear and tear may not be good for me and Florence, so a local round by bike may be easier.

I managed to see my Mum and a few old friends for a pre-Christmas visit although it was a bit rushed due to everything I needed to do before Christmas now that I had got a bit of money.
I am blessed that someone heard I was struggling and sent me paypal money just by having my email address. I didn't know people could do that! :)
Hint hint, feel free to test it out.

The Christmas tree got decorated on December 19th, much too late as far as I am concerned, I like a tree from the beginning of december, I like the lights and decorations.
I am very happy to have so many Christmas cards this year, coming out of the darkness and into the light again maybe? I wish I could think I can keep this life and continue to build but I live in fear of being destroyed, imprisoned and killed by the Church of England.

Despite everything, the Christmas atmosphere has been good, the delivery work and papers in the dark with the carols playing on the car CD player, the cards and the lights and the presents and the food in the end. And the tv and DVDs, and my foster-church.
I also went out for a lovely Christmas meal with my mates.

My friend rallied a bit in the week before Christmas and I knew she would be there on Christmas Day.

The weather turned bad just before Christmas. And the local party was dampened.

I had agreed to work on Christmas Eve, Boxing Day, NewYears Eve and Day and was surprised that they also put me on the rota for all other days without a break.
 On Christmas eve night things got too much, I was tired of the way I was being treated, and when they left me as the sole driver and tried to make me stay on and on and work after 11pm when I was due to stop and go to Midnight Mass, an argument broke out. 
I was left very upset but I quit. And I am glad I did, I won't be exploited any more.
 I was crying as I went to Mass, but I found the service comforting.
I got home at 2am on Christmas morning and slept peacefully into Christmas Day.

We had a lovely Christmas Day and my friend was happy, she enjoyed her last Christmas with all her family there, and they looked after me well and it was lovely. She made an effort to live to see it. Now she sleeps a lot and hasn't got long to live.

On Monday I went to spend the day with a disabled friend who is alone and without carers over Christmas, I cooked him a full Christmas dinner and we had a great day. So lucky me, I have had TWO Christmas Days! How greedy can you get?!

I have had a peaceful holiday of tv and DVDs, walks by the sea and quiet time here. I have been covering extra rounds for the paper shop though.
And I am already starting my next music course, I am self-taught at the moment but putting in for exams is easy. On Christmas Eve I got the results of the exam that the church disrupted, I passed. I also have my next wave of assignments for university to work on, and I am hoping the Church of England doesn't further disrupt my course.

 It is hard to be optimistic about 2016, I am under too much strain from the Church of England and other areas and I need to find more work. However, all I can do is try to hold my head up and face the future bravely and fight for things to get better. As I hope I have done this year.

Happy New Year everyone! :):):) Blessings and prayers for a better year all round.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wPnhaGWBnys

Looking back at 2015 part 1, January to June

Well, let me reluctantly trot out highlights or lowlights of the year. This year has been a year of tremendous change for me, and also a year of terrible destructive trauma as a result of the Church of England and their press and media.

January. 

 
 Well Januaries are bleak, January 2015 was very bleak.

In January I was ill in a freezing cold house with no hot water or heating, I was very ill with chest infections, while a drunk antisocial person illegally moved themselves into the house without the landlord's consent while he was away, and I was threatened. I had no money and was ill and had just moved from another terrible lodging house that I had moved to in a hurry when my lovely flat was condemned (not this flat, the other one).

So, no money, ill and in an unstable situation, could it get worse? Well yes, the Deanery of Jersey decided they wanted their whitewash report released and decided to attack in the press and media again, leaving me destroyed and devastated all over again.

And apparently their reasoning was that 'The Dean wanted to see their carefully engineered report before his friend the Leiutenant-Governor sent him off on holiday to America for three months at tax-payers expense. He can't send him to the UK because as soon as the Dean resides in the UK he will be taken to court, but that is by the by. The attack woke me from my stupor to produce several Open Letters:

 http://www.opnlttr.com/letter/jane-fisher-safeguarding-director-winchester-diocese

 http://www.opnlttr.com/letter/open-letter-very-reverend-bob-key-dean-jersey

Another reason for the Jersey Deanry's renewed attack was that Michael Birt, one of the Town Church Clique and also the retiring bailiff in January, abused his power without stating his place in the church, to demand the release of the conflicted report done by his colleague, Dame Heather Steel.


Just reading through last January, I actually went to Winchester and served...presumably the 'Resign' letter on Bishop Dakin? Although it wasn't published on Open Letter until February 21st: http://www.opnlttr.com/letter/letter-jane-fisher-and-bishop-tim-dakin

During January 2015, I had decided that due to the horrendous poverty that meant I couldn't afford Christmas or a haircut or shoes, and which kept me in bad accommodation where I was abused and at risk, one step from rough sleeping all the time, it was time for me to return to work.
I was also, despite the circumstances, making some sort of a partial recovery from the severe trauma that  had meant I was unemployable.
Unfortunately my return to work was delayed and disrupted by the DWP/Jobcentre's refusal to support me or respond to my need for supported phased return to work.
 However, having decided to see if I was fit for work, I immediately started working in a Charity shop, a job that I continued for some months. This started to boost my confidence and get me out of the unhealthy house, which I was housekeeping for men who did drugs and drank and really couldn't be bothered to think about other people.

You can actually tell how ill and in a mess I was if you look at January's blog.

However, in January I got a music keyboard, a good one, and started to regain my music dreams, although at the time I mentioned that regaining anything from Jersey or before can cause trauma and despair because of what was taken from me then and how regaining any of it feels useless.

My bike was sabotaged in January, which made me sad, that someone could deliberately hurt my bike and put my life in danger.

In January I was still attending 'Horse Therapy' but it was very institutional and autocratic, and we weren't even allowed to touch the horses most of the time, we were just used to carry out stable tasks, and it was not the true 'horse thereapy' to help with emotions that I had hoped for, so before long I quit.
Most of my other activities had been stalled at this point by crisis, illness and lack of money, so no gym, swim, health and fitness or social activities, and unfortunately I let this lapse continue even when things got better.

February:

Now preparing to further my preparation for return to work with volunteer gardening, I was doing well working for the charity shop, and planning to donate the proceeds of my next sponsored walk to them, having changed the walk from the traditional pre-Christmas to start on Easter Monday instead.

I was obviously distressed and dispairing at this point and life was grim, but I proceeded in trying to improve it.
Throughout January and February I was ill, depressed and also suffering constant chest infections in the cold unheated house with no hot water.
Then things changed for the better slightly.

I managed to get a room in a house share in the town where I felt 'at home' having been forced to leave by my old flat being condemned. My friend helped me to move house and my adoptive mum came over to help with the packing, it felt like a really dark time was over.

I started to feel better and more hopeful now, and saw this as a semi-long-term move until I could get another flat or bedsit.
I also started using saline and tonic to try to get over the exhausting chest infections, and eventually they did clear.

My new houseshare had a cat, who became a great companion and comfort to me, although he had a wicked and sudden temper and would lash out for no reason.

There was an earthquake in Winchester, which, after the floods, should have given Bishop Dakin a hint, but it didn't. He is rather lacking in hint-taking ability.

February was unremarkable apart from the move to a better place.

March:

March blew in, and life changed again.

I continued to work in the charity shop while continuing to progress back towards work.
I began work on the volunteer gardening team, this was to see if I could ever regain the strength and proficiency to be a gardener.
 To my surprise despite finding the work painful and exhausting I made good progress and was usually left to work alone on the grounds of this prestigious local attraction.

The Bishop of Winchester was politely requested to provide me with a donkey for Palm Sunday because I believed he and the Church would kill me this year, after all, I was 33 and had spent three years wandering homeless and taking potshots at the pharisees in the Church of England. Sadly the Bishop has been all lala ears since I took him to court, and he didn't want to play.

My eagerness to work led to me working on my Birthday when I had a migraine because I was on a work trial, it spolied my Birthday, especially as the job was not suitable, it was a sweat shop job where I was the only English person, it was a massive vegetable growing plant, but it was nothing to do with horticulture really, it was more to do with production, the conditions were bad, the heat was dreadful and the conditions, such as geting there for 7am, were simply not meetable in my case before I started driving again.

However, I was not put off from seeking work, especially I was having such a harsh time with the DWP and was in such poverty.
 So I attended a job interview, was shortlisted but didn't get the job, but considering where I was coming from, the fact I was shortlisted and had such a good interview.

As another wave of damage from the DWP came, I quit benefits because the stress was making me so ill, and I proceeded to register as self-employed, merriting me a double load of stress from the DWP and HMRC. What a nightmare! However, I had no choice but to persevere, now marginally fit for work and simply not able to go on living in a kind of poverty where I couldn't afford clothes or shoes or a haircut.

 My church attendance was tailing off now because the trauma of the Church of England just got too much.

That is about it for March.

April 

I kept the tradition of the Passover meal at the beginning of April.
Then I went through the motions of celebrating Easter.

On Easter Monday I started my annual sponsored walk. The weather was ideal, warm and sunny but sometimes windy, so I got wind burned.
The walk helped me mentally as I was alone in beautiful landscape, in the lovely sunshine. It was harsh physically as my physical state is pretty rubbish.
My friend dropped me off, collected me, brought refreshments and encouraged me each day, and it was the best sponsored walk I have ever done.

I had a bad Grand National and a Bad Oxford and Cambridge race this year :( even worse that my boss at the charity shop was an Oxford fan and he told me there was no doubt that they would win! 

I continued self-taught music theory and practice and had lessons when I could afford it. My practice exams were distinction level.

I was now picking up work, gardening and holiday cleaning changeovers. 
And of course I started the immortal paper rounds, biking round town with my sack of papers on my back in the early morning sunlight, heaven.

I was having an ongoing bad time with dental work from a bad dentist but at the time felt so grateful to get any treatment that I didn't complaint, as our district has very little NHS cover.

That was all for Ap

May: 

The General election went ahead with dissappointing results, the CofE pretty much swing it by telling their clergy and staff who to vote for in the church propaganda rag. (Church Times).

May was quiet but for constant tension and fear about the Church. I continued to build up my work.

Now that I had some money coming in, I started going to car boot sales again. This made me happy, the luxury of actually being able to get books and odds and ends for myself felt amazing, you have no idea what the grinding poverty of living on benefits is like unless you have experienced it! 

 June:

This month I started being sent 'interview questions' as members of the public had only been hearing the Church's side of my story. This was interesting and all interview questions and answers are up on the blogs still.

Elizabeth Hall, the famous uncoverup leader and protector of abusers in the Church of England made a swift and silent exit in the Church's new trend of removing female safeguarding officers and replacing them with men.

I started another course of physiotherapy to help with my legs. It was very nice and the physio helped.

I was now sea swimming every day again.

And as I had done with previous houses, I was doing all the housework and care of the place, which was too much for me.
I was also going through the complex inaccessible university and student loans applications, preparing, despite the risk from the church, to start university.

Then more Church rubbish hit, and left me very distressed.

I backed Golden Horn in the Derby, but to be honest, that was a given.

Then I went away for a working holiday. It was hard work, it had good and bad elements.

At this point some worry and effort went into safely restoring me to having a full driving licence, which I had been afraid would never happen. What happened to me was that I had been on a Jersey licence when I was dumped destitute on the street in 2010, and my licence was lost or stolen on the streets, leaving me unable to resolve it as you are not allowed to get a UK licence without a permenant address and the matter was so complex that it couldn't be resolved.
Thankfully the licence was resolved this year after a lot of paperwork, stress and worry.

I guess that is all for June. You have watched me rebuild so much of what was taken from me,  within the first six months of this year, and unaided.

New Year's Revolutions

Good evening peeps,

I am resting in bed with a huge stack of pillows propping me up.

I stumble on my usual New Year's revolution, to convert the diocese of winchester/CofE to Christianity, as so far I am failing badly, they become more duplicitous and bigoted and out of touch with reality with every passing year, and sending them Bibles is so expensive. So I will give up on that one.

The difference between revolutions and resolutions is that you should keep resolutions secret like Birthday candle wishes, but revolutions are to share.

The revolutions:

• To go on fighting for good health and help
• To get some writing done (nice and vague)
• To be assertive 
• To study well and do as much in advance as possible to prevent the church trashing my course again with their silly press games.
•  To go on rebuilding my life if the church or their police don't kill me
• To tell my story, which will lead to the police and church killing me of course.
• To continue with my music

• To get a decent part time job to support me through my studies.

Well, to be honest, that is the extent of the New Year's revolutions. The next post may well be the look back at the year. Today's normal daily post was posted before this one on Life After the Diocese, and on The Anythings and Everything Blog the previous post was about coke in Cathedrals :)

They always thought it was just the Holy Spirit...

http://metro.co.uk/2015/12/28/traces-of-cocaine-found-in-st-pauls-cathedral-investigation-finds-5588719/

Until the Sun made a random attack on Churches for no reason whatsoever.

We always wondered why
the choirboys sing so high

 the  congregation's faint and swoons
the Holy Spirits sudden visits
and the missing teaspoons

we thought tea was served after the service
but that isn't sugar on the tray
it isn't the communion wine
that makes the Deans face shine
or blows the visiting Bishop away.

 
 

 
 

Christmas prayers

Prayers for Christmas:

I will pray for the thing that is most on my mind first. Travel and the weather.
Dear Lord and Father, protect us all as we travel in this weather, especially those heading to friends and family now, and those of us working and going to midnight services tonight while others may have been drinking and the roads are so wet. Amen

I pray for all those who will be celebrating Christmas with alcohol, that they stay warm, well and safe. Amen

I pray for all people in povery or alone this Christmas, I will never forget my years with nothing at Christmas and worse, when friends made excuses and turned away. I pray for some hope for those people, for others to reach out with kindness, I pray that everyone has food and more than usual and hope and help and kindness. God bless them, amen.

I pray for any child without presents, that from somewhere, gifts will come. Amen

I pray for any child or adult who is facing a miserable christmas due to abuse or neglect, for freedom and hope. Amen

I pray especially for the homeless, the rough sleepers who have two choices if they are sleeping rough and can't access any shelter while everything is closed, they can walk and walk or they can sit in a blanket and try to keep warm. Neither are comfortable options. And the homeless in hostels or staying with others or squatting, not really home, guests where the rules hurt and where Christmas isn't a real joy. And especially families with Children. I remember and never forget, that I have lived like this. God help them. Amen

I pray for anyone struggling for electricity or warmth this Christmas, God help them. Amen
 
I pray for everyone who has been supporting me this year as the Church and States of Jersey continue to destroy me unchecked. Especial blessings on the Lantern bearer who helped me to walk through the dark and back into the light. It isn't over yet. Amen

I pray for Bishop Dakin in the wake of his recent open homophobia that adds to his crimes against me, I pray that he both repents and realises that he is not a Christian leader and thus steps down. 'Let he who is without sin cast the first stone'. Amen
On that note I pray for the Archbishop in the same way, as his recent use of homelessness as a Church Press Stunt when he and his church left me homeless and destroyed is very distressing. God send the homeless to live in Lambeth Palace and see if the Archbishop is capable of genuinely caring, Amen.
 And also I pray for Jane Fisher in life after safeguarding, to destroy me as she did, mercilessly and permenantly, she can't be a very happy lady, so I pray that she feels happy one day. Amen
 I pray for a revolution so that the invincible power in the Church of England is challenged and exposed, and people ask why a 'Christian' organization is able to be a law unto themselves and deceive and mislead the public and abuse the vulnerable so badly.  In Jesus' Name, Amen

I pray for Bob and Ann Hill and family, I pray that Bob regains his voice. 
'she has no voice, I speak for her'.
Amen

I pray for my friends, especially those I will see tomorrow at Church and for Christmas Day, and on Monday. And I pray for my beloved adoptive parents who have been amazing and wonderful and there for me every step of the way, I wouldn't have made it without you. God bless you, amen.

I pray for my work colleagues and customers, especially those I am parting company with in the New Year, I pray that my decision turns out good, and that if I have a chance, I will rejoin them later. Amen

I pray for my therapist, God give him patience! :) I pray that we can continue productive and helpful work in the New Year. Amen

I pray for the lady who lost her job for feeding a hungry school pupil. I pray that her kindness is rewarded. Amen

God help and bless everyone. Amen
 





 





 

Mark knight/twitter offers this cartoon :)

http://www.opnlttr.com/letter/jane-fisher-safeguarding-director-winchester-diocese

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4KC3iOD94FA

 

Can you imagine how much worse denial makes the shame and worthlessness?

Image borrowed from @shinybluedress

While you were sleeping part 1.

Come home Bob:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PUM8mXJre1c

Recounting memories to you of sitting in hospitals again. This, of course is always the saddest story, and I still cry:

 You looked like you were just sleeping
dreaming of the playtimes of all your children
dreaming of the edge of the granite land
beside the ash tree and the endless road

Dreaming that you were young again
in a world less worn and polluted, more green and sweet,
you are a young man again, strong and proud
watching his children play in the sunshine

maybe you will stay there and remember 
while the children who grew up and flew the nest 
grieve, beyond you happy dream
and I fly above the granite land where we played
and away from you forever, into my own endless darkness.


So I sat there while you lay in the hospital bed.
You didn't seem like you any more and yet you did seem like you as well.
But you weren't really there any more.
You looked like you were just sleeping, but you never woke.

I sat there and hated myself, for having gone away, for not having been there for you. For letting someone else call himself my father so that he could abuse me, just because I had remained afraid of you and the family

In the end, in your last year, we got on OK and you tried to help me out. And that made it feel worse as I sat there. Because I felt I had failed you in every way. I was being shunned and vilified by people who really believed that me reporting abuse was worse than their dishonestly and deceit and abuse. I was in hell, and I felt that you were going to heaven.
I felt what I tend to feel these days, that anyone who gets to leave this world now before it gets worse is almost lucky.
That is an extreme thought but my life has been so dark for so long and already had been when I sat beside you alone when they switched your life support off.

It was three days, and I had to fly back to Jersey in the meantime as there was no-one and nowhere to turn to for help.

Please Mr God
I just want to talk to him
I'll only keep him a while
please Mr God,
I just want to tell him goodbye
please...
tell him Goodbye

 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QN_89-_K3f0

The Bible and the church

 Come home Bob: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DGGJbwmhIZ8



This little thing from twitter reminds me, so much of the Jersey Deanery's Bible-based evil:

Someone has brought this post up on the blog...

I skimmed through it but the record blood pressure reading seems to have been missed out.

http://whatreallyhappenedinthechurch.blogspot.co.uk/2014/06/st-peter-autumn-2009-to-summer-2010.html#.Vk7tlL-Q_D4

The story of an inspirational and moral man (That he told me not to write!)

Well we are sitting here, and I remember, after a so long of not remembering, because for so long I have not had the luxury of memories, all I have known for years is raw pain, and memories, especially good ones, have been buried deep inside to stop me from collapsing.
But behind the smears and lies and collaborations of the arrogant and comfortable of the Diocese of Winchester, there is another story, other stories, which would be too damaging to their hatred and judgementof me for them ever to let them be heard by the people they have taught to hate and shun me.

So we are sitting here and you are making sure I eat something and drink several hot drinks at last.
For the past weeks and especially the last few days, I haven't really known or cared about sleeping or eating or anything, I don't know what is going on in my own life, the neat lists, rotas, bill payments and other tidy and fastidious arrangements are all shattered, the little world of boxes that is the best soother for autism is all gone, and I no longer know anything, but you know I need food and drink, and just as you always have, you look after my welfare first and foremost.

As we sit, the memories bubble up, uncontainable, rich and sparkling and flowing, no rhyme or reason, and I smile for the first time in days of tears.
As you read this, remember that although it was at a time that I was struggling desparately after escaping the childhood from hell, I was part of the community, surrounded by friends and with a full life, not in any way like the desparate ruined and angry mess that I am now, back then was before the Diocese of Winchester destroyed me and took the friends that I mention by slander and interventions.

So I tell you what I remember and I smile after days of tears.

I tell you I have sat by too many hospital beds already. I tell you about Jonny in Southampton Neuro, making his miracle recovery and that day when J. said dryly 'Well he's well enough to tell his brother to shut up!' 
Well it is one of the very best neurological units, what would you expect but miracles?

I remember all the hospitals, all the times I have sat by beds, but of course there is there is one that stands out, also a miracle recovery.
He was like no one I have ever met before, and I have only met one like him since, and the one I have met since is also having a break in hospital now.

He was a completely honest man who had no use for lies or deceit, he didn't want much and he didn't need people, but quietly and selflessly he worked for others, often unnoticed, he was usually polite to people face to face although he sometimes amused me by being honest to me about his feelings towards certain people, I felt honoured that he confided in me. The certain people he didn't approve of in our immediate community used alcohol and drugs and had other vices, and he had no time for them.

He had a sense of humour although he seemed so serious, and when I was going to meet him first time a certain person warned me to be careful not to upset him, so I was expecting an ogre but he was an angel.

I had to shadow him, learn from him, and although back then my mind wasn't focussed, it was a joy to work with him.

I remember when he became my friend, I had ordered a ton of gravel and was raking it into place and he came by, took a short cut through my garden as he did, and he didn't say a thing, just picked up the rake and started helping to distribute the gravel on the driveway.

He told me that I should come to tea some time, he and his wife would be pleased to see me.
I smile as I remember this because I know that made me very honoured. They didn't invite many people. They lived a simple, honest and lovely life and I really respected them.
One of my favourite stories that he always told me was when the Lord of the Manor came charging round in the range rover, and his wife opened the door, she peered out at him and said 'Oh, who are you?!' in a most dissaproving tone. 

I would go to tea sometimes, not frequently but sometimes, to be friendly, they were such special people. Tea meant china cups of tea with a little bit of cake and biscuits. I was still young, so to me I wasn't quite sure of this ritual but time with them was special. 

They lived simply as I said, honestly and without any pride or ego or boastfulness, indeed it took me a long time to actually realise what amazing people these were and what talent they hid. 
I think the first of the surprises was when I found out that he was a believer and a churchgoer, although I never heard him mention God or call himself a Christian or even use the word. And I understand why, I really do. But another surprise was that his place in church was as organist, until his hands grew too shaky, and then in the choir.
He had left school aged 14 and had been a gardener all his life apart from his days in the navy, which he always mentioned with a slight smile, but he had taught himself music, entirely, and that wasn't his only talent.

He was an artist, and again, he was self, taught. in 'the other room' that they didn't use to sit in, but which had the piano and various jumble, the portraits he had drawn lined the walls, amazing and each with a story behind them.
What an incredible man.

And of course he was the best gardener I have ever met or ever will meet.

So he and his wife were my friends, it didn't matter that they were elderly, age is irrelevant to me, if decent human beings reach out in friendship to me, that is what matters to me. Often it is older people who have the maturity to understand my solitude battles more.

This lovely couple had no children or pets, they had their little house and the immaculate gardens, they kept themselves to themselves. And I consider myself to be very lucky to be someone who got to know them.

He had been showing plants and vegetables and flowers for more years than he cared to remember, and if I remember correctly, he had asked Fleet show to stop giving him the cup each year, was it the cost or getting it re-engraved or was it that he thought it was silly to get a cup? He never wanted his prize money or certificates. That was how he was.

But he took delight in teaching me to grow and tend plants, and more delight in taking me to shows and teaching me to show plants and compete against him. 
I was already someone who competed in the show, but with floral art, under the watchful eye of Anne, I always will smile to remember her own teaching, where she got me and Fiona working on our floral art show entries, both working on our competing projects, there at the same table and under her eye.

But now it was time for me to move on to the serious stuff. The horticultural competitions.
It is funny, he had been competing for so long but he didn't know of the village show in my home village, and so I introduced him to it, the show where every year I spent days helping to set up for the show and then spent the show day and the Sunday killing myself trying to help with everything.

Not only did I introduce him to the show but also to Mike and Shirley, who he became fast friends with. I remember Shirley saying to me after meeting him that she thought 'I like you' when she met him. They used to pass messages through me sometimes, usually about show schedules and cup engravings, of course, that kind of thing, and would he like some of the newly made jam? or would they like some fresh cut flowers?

We started to transform the huge wild garden at my cottage into a real plot for vegetable and flower growing, and he didn't see much point in my tree felling project but he came and helped anyway. My cats loved him, and after openly being a cat hater all his life because cats are destructive to gardens, he grew fond of my cats and their antics and for a long time I had a photo of him holding the half-siamese cat in his arms. He seemed in awe of this cat because it was clever and he didn't realise a cat could think things through like that one did. 

 He used to laugh that he couldn't take a nap in the hammock that I had tied between the apple trees becase that cat of mine would be hiding in the tree and launch itself like a missile.

He taught me about dustbin parsnips, the very best for the show, of course the growing mix had to be just right. He showed me how make rings for show vegetables and he made me read my show handbook carefully and learn.


Then one week he wasn't at work, and I was surprised, he didn't text me or phone or call round to the cottage.

All I knew at the end of the week was that the lady of the house told me he was ill.
I went round to see if I could help. Because his wife was disabled since she slipped and hurt her leg badly, so I wanted to know if I could help, but he had already been admitted to hospital. 

He was in for a while that time, and I watered the plants and gave his wife lifts to the hospital.
But for some reason they sent him home when he was still very ill.

I grew increasingly concerned, and one evening I asked for a break from shift to go and speak to the hospital. I was horrified by the callousness of the nurse I spoke to. Basically she was saying he was an old man and a waste of a bed and to let him die.
But next day he was re-admitted.

He was in a bad way now, and he slept, with the tubes draining and feeding him.
I was tired and I was in pain and I didn't know why.
I went to work and worked hard, I studied my day release course and I went to counselling, I made trips too and from the hospital and I watered the plants and did anything I could to help.Then I went to work again.
The tiredness got worse and worse.
I slept on a mattress in the front room because the stairs had got too steep. The doctors did tests and muttered about M. E and fibromyalgia.

At the hospital I joined the services in the chapel and asked for prayers for him. And I put him on the prayer list in church and prayed at the afternoon prayer services made up of well-to-do ladies who never kept their voices down about me being 'odd' or 'handicapped'. 

One day his wife rang me, she had been at the hospital since 5am when they had called her in, told her that he couldn't stop coughing blood and it was best that she came in now.
We sat there.
We sat and waited.
He stopped coughing blood.
He had blood all over his hospital pyjamas when he told me in a weak voice that he was OK and he was going to sleep now.
And he did.

He slept and then he started to recover, there was no more blood.
I saw a genuine miracle as he started to steadily recover.



 'I sat by him at the hospital, there were times when he was grumpy and angry with me when he was recovering, I would go out to the church yard and cry, but his miracle recovery is something that will always be with me, as will the parking fees'.

You smile as I say that, and you murmer something about the hand of God on my shoulder.

How could I have forgotten, that man of such moral courage and firm unmovable convictions, a quietly selfless and inspirational man who was such an example to me?
(and he told me not to write about him too, tough cookies mate, you can't stop me!).

One day I went round to check if his wife needed anything and to water the plants, his wife answered the door 'Go round the back, there is someone there to see you!' she said, hardly able to contain her emotions.
So I did, and there he was, not long home and tending his plants.
Instead of the usual 'lifeline' of taking hold of my hands, which is what he and my other friends normally did because of my autism, he hugged me.

He was more tired than before the illness, but he did recover, even to drive his car again, and one day he drove me to the surgery and observed that my bag of prescription meds was bigger than his! I battled the metabolic illness that left me tired and in pain for a few years after that and it made work hard  for me, and I left the estate and the tied cottage and moved on, but we kept in touch for years, and he still sent me silly text messages sometimes, jokes and things.

But the funniest memory, that I recounted to you and you looked astounded before laughing, was that time when the lady of the manor wouldn't stop talking about her favourite candidate for the local elections, this seemed to irritate my friend, and he took to sending me cheeky messages about the candidate, not rude of course, he was a gentleman, but he didn't share the lady of the manor's enthusiasm for this candidate.
We were working with some plants, and the lady of the manore was intervening in our greenhouses as she did sometimes, she was labelling young plants, then the bell on the house rang, meaning the phone was ringing and off she sashayed to answer it.
My friend looked at me, looked at the greenhouse, and grinned.
Into the greenhouse he sneaked, took the sophisticated label gun, and changed what the label printout would read so that it read the name of the election candidate who the lady of the manor was always raving about.
Then off we tiptoed to the other side of the wall, and fell about laughing, wondering how many plants she would label before she realised, and what she would make of it when she realised!
 After that we only had to say that person's name and we would crack up laughing.

So, that is the story of me and my friend from before the darkness fell, an honest, honourable and moral man, who I always knew I was perfectly safe with because he wouldn't abuse or exploit anyone. 
He was a rare character and I have only known one man that safe and moral, selfless and honourable since, another man who is now also lying in a hospital bed, but he never knew the me from before the darkness and the mad anger.
Because life circles and circles, and we relive the same things over and over.

Thank you for being there for me in this time of tears, today I smiled again because I remembered.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dT4JPs29ekI

Dear Jersey

Dear Jersey,

Regarding Bob Hill.

I redact what I said last week, it was said in fury as he was rubbing raw wounds. I apologise.

Bob Hill should have been enjoying his retirement. He shouldn't have been trying to put right the wrongs of the church or the authorities in Jersey.

The UK government should be intervening in Jersey and putting the henious corruption and safeguarding failures right, not leaving it to a retired man who has a disabled wife to look after.

But apparently instead, the UK government are allowing Jersey dignitaries to intervene in the UK care inquiry, which is henious. I am sure the Jersey care inquiry have been briefed on this as well as how to let the Jersey dignitaries off the hook.

The States of Jersey are responsible for providing safeguarding and witness support and justice and safety for the vulnerable and abuse survivors, and they don't, so Bob spent his retirement on helping people who were suffering, and the States did nothing. Bob's wife is disabled and Bob worked hard all his life. Why was he the only one standing up for me and for others, when the States have used the press and media to hurt me and other victims? What exactly are the safeguarding board there for? Well I gather they are there to protect abusers, the same as Jersey police are, but things need to change. it shouldn't cost the life of innocent people for things to change.

Why did Bob get taken ill? well for two and a half years, rightly or wrongly, he has caused himself and me stress by taking on my case when my case was set up to exonorate the people who have harmed me and lay all the blame on me. The desparation by the States in their use of the press and media to smear me once again recently shows that something went wrong with what the church had planned with their whitewash conflicted Korris smear report followed by the tandem steel and jersey unsafeguarding smears set up and overseen by Gull and Johnstone in liason with the abuser Jane Fisher.

Bob's interventions couldn't change the fact that the whole case had been mapped out and planned to exclude me and eventually have me imprisoned and destroyed again, that remains the case and for me it has been a long two and half year wait, with complete puzzlement at the desparation of the Jersey Deanery, to the point that they spent a thousand pounds of tax payer's money when Jersey's economy is in a shocking state, just to try to get the conflicted Steel report released.

and Jersey safeguarding partnership stood and watched, and didn't see what the problem was.

So, having failed, the Jersey Deanery and associated states members attacked in the press and media again, abusing their power and misleading people while the 'safeguarding' partnership who's Stuart Gull had illegally acted with regard my case, looked on again and ignored my complaints to them.

Bob Hill, having been asked by me over and over again not to waste his retirement on my case when it was a set up and all he was doing was prolonging and worsening the anguish, launched into the media with his latest blog and on BBC Jersey, despite me having banned this.

It was the last thing he did, and the last thing I did in response was attack him and call him names.

And I will have to live with that, and on top of everything else I can't live with, this is a last straw, I can't recover physically or mentally from the latest onslaught and it shouldn't have cost Bob Hill his life.

If he recovers, someone else, someone who he listens to, needs to make sure he rests and enjoys his time with his family.

He can't do any more for me, I am already ruined, defamed, publicly smeared and lied about and discredited, with the active help of Jersey police and safeguarding board. I am done for, but my death is slow and agonizing and drags on year after year. There has been no justice, no arrangement for my side to be heard and investigated, and even Bob never met with me and heard me, and instead used the Korris smear report as a guide and anguished me. He shouldn't even have had to, the Korris report was illegal and had no right to be published and Bob and Neil, even meaning well, have left me sick with distress in repeatedly reproducing parts of it as if it were fact, which is one of the reasons I raged at him, he couldn't see how much he was hurting and humiliating me.

If I could trade places with Bob, so that he could be well and happy and with his family at home, while I, the branded hated worthless one, could be finished and out of my misery, then I would trade, right here and now.

I may be responsible for Bob's situation because he shouldn't and couldn't go on carrying me, and the other survivors while Jersey failed them. But Jersey's safeguarding board and social services and States are also responsible, for leaving him to carry us, indeed worsening the situation with their illegal part in the cover-ups, when Bob should have been enjoying retirement. And now that he has gone, who is left of the human rights activists in Jersey? Who is left who hasn't been ruined for fighting for justice and human rights, who is left who isn't fearful for their own safety for speaking up? Not many.

Jersey is getting worse, the actions of the Bailhache brothers and their servants Gorst and the Governor regarding my case recently have been so blatant and open, even spending a thousand pounds of tax payers money openly and withour fear of account, while Bailhahce tried to close the care inquiry due to cost! Why would a man who wants to deny a voice to hundreds of victims be demanding an 'abuse report' to be released?

Hypocrite.

The recent safeguarding failure serious case review led to the usual 'lessons will be learned (but not in our time)' lines being trotted out. So when will lessons be learned? When a few more lives are lost? Or never?

Bob shouldn't have been in a position where he was the only person defending me and I was out of my mind and furious that he was still acting in my case without consent, I know I said terrible things but why is Jersey safeguarding partnership allowing me to be driven to the end of my tether? Why have they left Bob Hill safeguarding me against a paedophile protector and a bunch of equally corrupt and dishonest States-Church members? Why hasn't Jersey learned anything from the embarrassment of being international news in 2008 because of abuse and the failure of the States, judiciary and social services? Why are they standing by while the same States members who failed those children are killing me, have left Bob in a critical condition?!

Bob refused to stop acting in my case and others, no matter what abuse I hurled, no matter how upset I was, and he has a disabled wife to look after, and the safeguarding board and police not only let my case go on in this terrible way, they left Bob struggling with it while they were complicit in allowing and aiding the corrupt states-church members!

How much is a human life worth to the Jersey authorities?

Well, it depends on who you are, doesn't it?!

If Bob makes any recovery, I sincerely hope that he will listen to his family and not return to the fight for human rights, for his own sake. But now with Bob not defending my case, what are safeguarding going to do? Aid the police and church in finishing me off with the whitewash set up reports on Jane Fisher and the Deanery of Jersey's behalf? Presumably, yes, because no one oversees Jersey police and safeguarding, they are a corrupt, ineffective law unto themselves, that is why a good man has wasted his retirement doing their job for them and is in critical condition in hospital.

I will never forgive myself.

I intended to redact that furious email calling Bob an abuser for launching into the press and media without warning again when I have told him repeatedly not to, I also, while I have been ill in bed, taped my concerns about Bob and Neil representing my case without warning or consent and had it transcripted yesterday to send to them. Too late. Bob isn't a bad man, or an abuser, I am sorry I said he was, but he did leave me screaming with anguish over the way he represented my case, because he wasn't listening to me, wasn't warning me when he was going to release things or checking with me for accuracy.

I go mad because I have suffered more than anyone can live with. Now I have to live with the fact that the last thing Bob did before being taken ill was try to represent me when blatant lies about me and my case were being read out, and the last thing I did was call him names and scream at him to leave my case alone.

Are the care inquiry really going to leave Jersey knowing that they are leaving an island that is in such a desparate state that men like Bob Hill have to give their lives to try and change things because those in authority are active in keeping the bad, dark, abusive and corrupt practices in place? Are the care inquiry really going to leave Jersey knowing that they and the authorities were told over and over again about the situation with the Bailhache brothers, the Dean, the States, are they really going to leave and not see that things change in Jersey?  It is looking that way and Bob gave his life and time to make sure there was a care inquiry, and he gave his testimony and I and others think that the way he was interviewed by the inquiry was dissapointing.

And then they won't even interview me, and I have experience of how bad the systems in Jersey are, as well as having witnessed active protection of paedophiles.

The last straws are raining down, and presumably the people attacking me and trying to force the release of their whitewash reports will have no respect for Bob and no regard for his or my welfare and will now press on with their attacks relentless, with the safeguarding joke board eager to assist them.

What kind of State is Jersey, to allow a paedophile protector to openly attack a vulnerable adult he has never met and use the press and media to do so, while a retired man uses his retirement to try to defend her? Are the care inquiry really going to turn their backs and claim that this is not in their remit. If they do, then the same Paedophile protector was right when he said they were not worth the tax payer's money.

HG

Bob Hill, an honest man

Re-posted:

Bob Hill has been mentioned in a previous post about what happened in November.
I guess I want to balance that negative post. I had to post it because what happened in November was awful, and no-one knew my side of it.

Bob is a good, honest, caring man, he fights for social justice in Jersey, the only problem being that he and Mike Higgins haven't quite got the hang of getting permission to make representations and referrals of people, which is really important, examples being that Bob and Julie and Christine Daly went behind my back to make arrangements and that collided disasterously with the Diocese doing the same, with the end result of me being very hurt and angry and no help at all being arranged; and also Mike Higgins repeatedly causing me pain by bringing my case up in the States and meeting cover ups, untruths and libels of me which I was unprepared for.

Bob got his BEM because of his work with vulnerable people, and he continued the good work when he returned to Jersey after leaving the MET police and becoming a deputy in the States of Jersey, he has been a voice for numerous vulnerable people in Jersey, and if only I had known him while I was in Jersey, he might have prevented what happened in the end.

Problems with Bob trying to represent me included the sheer disstance, basically we needed to talk face to face and hardly got a chance to, and with me being on the streets, skype was not a viable option most of the time, we tried skype but the signal would go, even when I had somewhere safe to skype.
Another problem was, it was a big and complex case, made worse by the untruths spread by the Jersey Deanery about my past, so that I spent a huge amount of time trying to explain myself about that and never overcame the blank trauma enough to tell Bob my story in Jersey, and Bob chose to believe the Korris report over my story, and repeatedly told me that my side of what happened with the police didn't, sadly my police records, already distorted by incorrect police recording, were open to abuse by wrongdoers involved, but I told Bob the truth and there would be no point in my lying, but he couldn't accept my side.

Bob's involvement of Julie in confidential matters and as if he worked inseparably with her on my case, without my consent, and apparently with Gladwin and Daly's influence, meant I felt demoralised and as Julie insinuated I was in the wrong in Jersey, I realised I was betrayed. But Bob didn't see fit to apologise and instead, blamed me.

Bob's blogs are very good, but as well as traumatising me, they are not entirely accurate and tend to give his view, what he has heard and read, and debates with other people such as the Home Affairs Minister who is a reader in the church in Jersey, and a friend of the Churchwarden's, according to the Churchwarden. So how could his answers be accurate.

Bob, without any doubt whatsoever, wanted something done about the injustice, he wanted people to be accountable and he wanted what was best for me.
Sadly the obstacles he faced included the case being so complex that he regularly forgot or omitted facts I told him, he sent information to Gladwin and Daly that would not be helpful and he had not been asked to send, he was also, and most importantly, up against super-powerful members of church/state/judiciary/church, who are apparently infallible, invincible and able to get away with pretty much anything they like, as well as being able to get people like the Dean let off without question.

I believe Bob worked very very hard to try and help me, and he took a lot of flak trying to defend me, and I am very grateful to him, I was badly represented by the Korris report and then smeared by the Jersey Deanery while the Diocese stood by like a leaderless and frightened flock, not knowing where to turn and certainly not supporting me. I took some of that nasty flak and libel and slander directly, Bob didn't divert it all, and it has wounded me that people who do not know me, and never met me were self-righteously judging me and condemning me even on church websites such as 'clerical whispers' and 'Thinking Anglicans' (now there's an oxymoron).

Bob, with his firm stand on my side, was a pillar of strength and hope, while we waited for the Church of England to make good the damage they did, sadly they let us down, but Bob's efforts were great, it is just a tremendous pity that he could not take my full story, face to face, and the poor man didn't really really understand me himself.

In the beginning, he told me he didn't understand mental health, he wasn't medically trained, it took a long time and lots of information and my psychological report for him to understand, hopefully, that I was not 'seriously mentally ill' as such, but that autism combined with very severe trauma and psychological harm from my background is what lead to me going mad under the terrible pressure I was under in Jersey from the backlash when I was still in a very bad way from being regressed and abused in Jersey.

The fact I was left regressed and childlike after parting company with the abusive churchwarden played a big part in things, and is omitted from Korris, but being regressed and abused and facing  the backlash was simply too much for me after my background of severe violence and trauma, this, in a small community like Jersey, a complaint against a well-connected churchwarden. I was treated very bad. And so called 'Christians' on websites and in the Church, who have judged and condemned me publicly and to Bob, should be ashamed of themselves, shouyld try going through what I went through with the conditions I have, and see if they do any better.

Bob has put in hundreds of hours of epic work in trying to help and defend me, but the distance and the fact he needed the full story and couldn't get it, didn't help.

Bob's blogs are admirable in that he is very honest and balanced and set a good example to me, he set a good example in manners, honesty and courtesy, which actually encouraged me to try to be the same, notably in my dealings with the diocese, Bob's way of being polite and understating things, as he frequently does, led to me sometimes doing the same, although not always, because I am me, and I am angry about how I have been treated.  But although my letter to the Jersey Deanery was all my own work -well, actually I asked the Holy Spirit to show me what to write, I did base my style of writing on Bob's.

Bob deserves a medal, so it is hardly surprising that he has one.
(I once tried to nominate Philip LeClaire for a MBE medal for his similar great work, but was quite puzzlingly shunned and treated quite rudely by other people who I asked to support that nomination, which remains a raw mystery to this day).

Julie described Bob as pragmatic, and said it was a good thing he was because she and I weren't. I am not sure what the word means, I think it is unemotional and stable and calm.
Bob is very calm and did not seem to understand when he calmly told me terrible and worrying and traumatic things, that I could not be calm, because the trauma I had suffered and was suffering, was too much for me, Bob not being on the receiving end of the Korris, Gladwin and Steel reports did not seem to grasp how injurious these reports could be to a vulnerable and struggling life, especially as the Korris report did me so much harm, and the Steel report was to destroy me on behalf of the Deanery, and the Diocese were refusing to stop it.

Bob is a lovely kind man, very solemn and serious though, one of the main things that helps me to communicate is humour, and Bob was very much a policeman, politician, he couldn't work with me through humour as notable others have and do, but Bob is one of the most genuine, kind and altruistic people I have ever met, and I have met a few.

The November issues and their lack of resolution meant that I couldn't trust Bob, because the level of damage done meant that I could not risk that happening again and could not risk letting Bob involve other people and cause more disasters. His comments about me not having many friends and not trusting people infuriated me, he does not understand that until the reactive attachment disorder is treated effectively, I have to keep people at arm's length or I hurt them, that is a horrible reality, only people who can not get emotionally involved and can trust me to look after myself, and can stay calm if I get upset, can stay alongside me now, sad as that is. And as for trust, it goes without saying, I can't not have a trust problem after everything that has happened, and Bob needling about it does not help.

Bob is a good man, credit to him for every single thing that he has done for me and for others, including the fact that he looks after his lovely wife when she is not well.
God bless him.