The Anything and Everything CofE Blog: 2014-02-09

Saturday, 15 February 2014

Every night as I try to sleep, I end up on trial by church of england and am condemned over and over, I cannot forgive myself even the slightest wrongs while I am condemned by these 'Christians' and even though I have been to confession, even if God forgives me, the Church, through their actions, don't, and claim God doesn't, as they represent Him, supposedly.

Just to bring your attention to this new blog

http://erlanverhoten.blogspot.co.uk/

A blog offering the post links from former Senator Stuart's blog, which Jersey authorities forced to be taken down.

my side of things

The Diocese of Winchester did not arrange for my full story to be taken and ignored my requests, including my offer to see an independent interviewer, instead, they excluded me and illegally referred me to agencies including the NSPCC without my consent, and I had a breakdown.

Friday, 14 February 2014

I guess information like this means that the Jersey Deanery are nearing their triumph and I am about to be destroyed by the reports that omit my views

Ian's blog http://therightofreply.blogspot.co.uk/2014/02/200000-pissed-up-wall-in-church-debacle.html

The Residential Homes for the Elderly

There were two homes for the elderly in the parish, almost opposite each other, and I always felt kind of sad about it, because one was a private home for people who could afford it, and the other was a council run home, and the care differences were there, even though the council home didn't seem too bad.

JM or a team would go to the home to run a communion service or games afternoon sometimes, and, especially in the time I was living in the district, I would go and help with communion at the council home, and also carol services at Christmas.

I remember the door code was 1066 to get in or out, and I remember one old lady saying she was waiting for her husband to collect her, but I don't know if she was.

I used to help the elderly people with their hymn books, finding the right hymns and holding the book for them if necessary.

It was always both cheerful and sad to share a Carol Service with them at Christmas, cheerful because a lot of them loved it, and sad because they were there, not home with their family.

Sometimes we had rather funny times, like when an old person tried to dance to the hymns. But the best one was an old lady singing wildly out of tune, and her equally elderly companion tutted and said 'she can't help it you know'...and then she added 'It's her parents I feel sorry for!'.

One of the old ladies used to be brought to church every week, it was what she wanted, although she had dementia and was fading.
She passed away, and I went to her funeral, we had always known her by a particular name, but it turned out that she had two names, and the council home called her by one, and her family called her by the other.
The name that her family knew her as, was the same as my name.

Another sad story on that note, there were two ladies who were very much into the running of things in the church, especially prayers and healing, once upon a time, they didn't understand me very well but they always said hello, and came to my parties etc.

One of them died suddenly, and I didn't know what had happened to her companion, just realised she was missing, and so I asked, and the reply was that she was in some care home in town, taken ill and losing her memory.
I was puzzled about how casual people were when I asked about it, and I asked if anyone had been to see her, no, no-one had, no-one, not even the other busy church ladies she had worked with and this was a lady who did so much in the church with her friend, she was simply gone, forgotten.
This was a grim realization, that no matter how hard you work for the church of england, they can discard and forget you as if you were never there.

I was not sure if I was 'qualified' to go and see her, and people were so vague, so I didn't in the end. Me being so shy and not close to her, I felt if her friends didn't go and see her, how could I?

Bleak to think that eventually I will end up in the council home and forgotten, if the diocese don't have me put away or snuffed out first.

emails me and JM while I was in Jersey

From:	** ***(******@*******)
Sent:	12 October 2007 09:54:21
To:** ** ***	(*******@******)

Hi,
I won't be back until near christmas as far as I know, but I will spend more time talking to you then, now that I have settled some things in England. I look forward to seeing Darcy, he has great potential.
I have sent you the cheque, but it may well be delayed by strike backlog, please let me know when you get it, so peace of mind.
I am now contactable on ***** ******, this is a Jersey Airtel mobile, so not sure of cost yet, but I can be quickly contacted in an emergency, and can phone the UK cheaply. please pass the number on to the scooby gang if you like.
My car is in the garage today, so please pray for that.

Love and blessings,

***** x

From: ***** ***** *******Add to contacts

09/10/2007

To: '**** ******'

It was lovely to see you *****, you looked better than I have seen you for a very long time, and much happier. It was great to see you buzzing about in your usual hectic way. Come and see us again soon.

Lots of love from me, and a woof from Darcy,

*****

Hi,
Thank you so much for having me to stay and putting up with my strange timetable. Home safe and tired, on overtime this week as short staffed, yipee.
A cheque for the balance is on its way, will reach you by half past october according to your postal strike. The ferry was comfy. zzzzzzzzz.

Lots of love and blessings,

******

Sharing

Just to share with you.
Every single day I suffer severe tension and fear of the Diocese.

Fear of what they might do next, and if what they do next will be the last straw that snuffs me out.

I have suffered so much with their dishonesty, their coming after me, their police, their launching terribly inaccurate and harmful reports and statements that have shaken my world and lost me so much.

I live in fear, and I want to share that with you because I am too anxious to settle to sleep every night, tonight, because of this.

Thanks

Those little Easter Gardens, and other stories

See the bay tree

How big it's grown

but friend it hasn't been that long

it wasn't big

you laughed at me and I got mad

the first day that I planted it

was just a twig

Now my life's an empty stage

where Bonnie lived and Bonnie played

and love grew up

and I remember still

how she pulled you up that hill

while I laughed and clapped...

well that is not a very inspiring variation of 'Honey' by Bobby Goldsborough.

It is funny how my deep and loving friendship with JM and my community has been distorted into something it wasn't, to cover up wrongdoings by her, her husband and others.

JM and I were very close. Even though a number of things were wrong, including the way she crossed professional boundaries by intervening in my college courses when she was my counsellor, and taking me to her home, knowing what her husband had been accused of by his daughter who looked like me.

And then moving me into her home and getting Council Money for keeping me for that month or six weeks, which the church do not seem to have any register of.

JM, in the early days, said she wanted to be a mother to me, and make up for what I hadn't had, and for a year or two I called her 'mummy' or 'mammy', but it didn't matter as much as the loving friendship that we had.

Anyway, the Bay Tree is still there, unless it has been chopped down since I was last there. It was in a pot, JM had bought it or been given it, for her herb garden, and it was pot bound and growing, so she asked me to plant it out by the herb bed, it was quite a job with such a root ball, and such shallow chalky soil.

I had to cut it from the pot and work hard to dig a hole, watched unblinkingly by JM's mother, who seemed to find my work fascinating whether she was in a loving me or hating me phase. (she was like that).

The song 'Honey' also reminds me of when JM's dad died, and her mum fell and dislocated her hip within days of his death, JM raged at the hospital because they had said the artificial hip was un-dislocatable, and so JM's mum was moved to Sarum Road private hospital, where we went to visit her. I remember sitting in the car park in JM's car, and she had the CD of Honey in the car and I listened to it on the CD player.

JM's mum was still proud and strong in hospital, not emotional, she wasn't usually, apart from getting angry or raging about things in the paper.

It was when she came out of hospital that she became emotional, she was able to attend the funeral in a wheelchair, and it was in the days after that that she would get upset a lot, getting upset over me and giving me extra money for my tasks in the garden and around the property.

But she soon became herself again.

The last bit, I used to meet JM for the dog walk each day, and I used to stand at the top of the hill and shout to the dog and make her pull JM up the hill, oh how norty, poor JM, she couldn't run! :)

The other thing about the song, Honey, is it reminds me about how JM used to say how her inner child would play with mine, we were like children playing, I guess a bit like I playplay with Elle and Polo and people. As I mentioned before, trauma has stunted my emotional maturity, so I am a bit childish.

It wasn't JM's fault that her husband misbehaved, and I think it hurt her, and she did believe both of us were responsible, even though I was in no state to be thinking about misbehaving, but it was her fault that she got involved in Jersey and liased with the Dean and the churchwarden to blacken my name and cover up for her husband.

It was sad to go back and see the rectory empty, and then briefly inhabited by someone who had a sports car, the bay tree had grown wild, and it wasn't the same place that was part of my life for so many years, back when there was sunlight, spring and daffodils, and a life full of occupation.

This is Honey http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rZiEY3O-FWk

And this song reminds me of FM and how he told me he had fled his violent father and his story to me of how he was seduced into a sex act by a female when he was too young, FM was a violent tempered man, but JM excused him that it came from his background, even though he had never tried to change. His violent temper scarred my life from age 19 onwards and has contributed to my own problems and my anger and my fear of men, I was afraid of him, and that is one of the reasons he got away with what he did. (His daughter and his first wife also apparently suffered badly because of his temper, but JM could contain him, because she was a very stubborn woman indeed, always right and always got her way no matter how he raged).

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=37GrbCUvZEM

The Easter Gardens:

After years of not knowing what Easter was, Easter burst into life for me, I had had no idea it was such an event in the church, and to me, just waking from the dirty ghettos, Easter in Hampshire was beautiful.

Easter in Hampshire was big excitement, daffidils blooming in the spring sunshine with the clear blue sky and beautiful spring green of my beloved home county.

Easter was a busy calender of church events to help with, excitement, flower arranging and stress, Easter was invitations and services and time with friends, time off work, it was joy and glory and light and wonder, it was all new and amazing.

One of my tasks, which JM would hand to me every year, was helping the young children to plant the Easter Garden every year, we would have an Easter garden service in church, and then we would go out to where the little bedding plants were to be planted, where the little model tomb had been placed, and JM would talk, and then she would get me to assist the children in planting and watering the bedding plants.

The Easter Garden would stay blooming through and after Easter.

The sun will always shine on those memories, so pure, before the darkness came. I was alive and life was so full, I had escaped to my home county, and everyone said I had a bright future.

The Garden Party - Have I done this one?

It was another sponsored event, but more than that, it started with a sponsored walk, which ended at Wolvsley Palace in Winchester for a youth event, a 'garden party' with stalls and events and meeting in the marquee where we had a talk, from memory, the talk was about youth in the church of England, but I am not positive, but I do remember how all the youth groups were walking or travelling to Wolvsley to join the event, and we had one of the shorter walks.

I didn't really understand the Church of England apart from knowing about JM's grumbles and the cliques in church back then, I didn't know how desparate they were to keep young people as they are a dying church, even in the Diocese of Winchester which is described as 'so low church and evangelical that they are all limbo dancing'. (not my description).

Anyway, our sponsored walk was to raise money for one of the African countries, possibly for wells, I can't remember now.
We walked happily into Winchester, carrying a banner, and the police slowed up to check us out, and decided we looked harmless.

We arrived at Wolvsley and set up our stall, we were running a maggot racing or worm racing game, and the freed worms or maggots ran everywhere but you had to bet which would get closest to somewhere on the board.
Bishop Scott-Joynt and archbishop Carey politely wandered round the stalls, I think it was the Bishop who had won a lollypop at one of the stalls and was sucking this lollypop, and the Hampshire Chronicle got a picture of this and printed it as a headline, but I cannot remember either the headline or the article, only the funny picture.

I had hid when the Bishop and Archbishop came over, because I was very shy and didn't know how to address them.
I did know the Bishop's wife vaguely, as she had been introduced to me by her friends, my friend Anne, who she sang with in the Wayneflete, and her friend FM, who she attended groups with, FM who had abused me when I had stayed briefly at the Rectory according to JM's wishes.
But anyway, the Bishop's wife was at this event, with the Archbishop's wife, and she ignored me when I said hello, which was embarrassing, because I was shy.
When JM heard about that later, she said they were snobs at Wolvsley and that they treated her Benefice administrator the same. (JM was not normally at youth events and youth group, she was a very busy lady).

Anyway, we had fun nonetheless, and the weather stayed wonderful, and we had the talk in the marquee on youth in the church, presumably, and then continued festivities later.

A lovely memory.

Will flood defences hold? Will Bishop join Canute? Who stole the Ark? Where is Holy Ghost?

Thanks St. Swithun, I hear they are building an ark

http://www.theguardian.com/environment/2014/feb/13/winchester-city-canute-plan-hold-back-

Meanwhile, Tim Dakin decides to flee to warm and sunny Nairobi and claims never to have heard of a hostile tax haven called Jersey.

:):):)

The Car, learning to Drive

Well the motorbike was a very useful part of life, and did many miles, too many really, I was very restless and keen to explore the four counties, and I did, I also made my way back to my old community for weekends of looking after friends' gardens, including JM's, and volunteer and church work and time with friends.

I did want to have a car and drive, it would be better in bad weather, but there was no rush once I was on the road on the bike, and on the bike I learned road skills, which would help with my driving.
I had had trouble learning to drive because I was too nervous, not of the road or the car, but of the instuctors, this again was probably the result of years of childhood where I was taught by beatings.

Anyway, one day, when I had had the bike for some time, my landlord asked if I would be interested in his old car £200, he said, well yes, it was the car I dreamed of, a Peugeot 205, which shows how small my dreams were! But I liked the shape of those cars and knew they were reliable.

So, when he got his new car a Peugeot 406 Estate, ideal for carrying wood, he not only sold me the old car and helped me with the paperwork, but he also taught me to drive it, and I wasn't scared of him, I had lived with him for nearly two years and knew he was harmless, he had adult daughters of his own, and treated us women with respect and bemusement.
He would sit in the passenger seat as I drove this car round and round the ring roads and roundabouts, and did three point turns and reverse parks all over the new and deserted housing estate, sometimes he would tell me stories of his past and his wife, who had died a few years previously, and sometimes he would reassuringly doze as I drove, the thing was, this was great, because this was my car and I knew it and was in control of it, it is different from driving an instructor's care and them being in control.

Anyway, JM came out with me in the car one time, she said that me and the car were like a team, we knew each other. She paid for me to have two lessons before my test, so that an instructor could pick up on any faults, and I did that, and then passed my test.
My old landlord grinned when we got back to the test centre where he was waiting and he said
'I'll drive us home so you can stay on cloud 9'.

I didn't care what cloud 9 was because I was tired.

JM and FM hugged and congratulated me when I went to see them, and I amused JM's niece and nephew when I went to do my work for them, I did a day a week for them at the time, but I phoned and left a message to say I would be in, and typical autistic, forgot to say I had passed my test, because I had no idea it was supposed to matter, so when I got there in my car, they congratulated me, and the niece said 'you didn't tell us in the call, I was hanging on the phone waiting to hear about the test!', but her partner looked at the 'P' plates I had put on the car as the 272 was such a fast and dangerous road, and he said 'someone has 'P'd on your car!'.

Sadly because of what the Diocese did that caused me to lose my car and leave Jersey, I have neither car nor licence, the licence was either stolen on the streets or taken by police, and being a channel islands licence by then, it could not be replaced by the DVLA if it was missing, especially not as I have been homeless so long and not willing to put myself at risk by giving Jersey authorities details, and my name having changed, basically I lost my licence without having done anything to merit it.
So all that wonderful memory but nothing to show for it.
Public transport remains difficult for me, but I have no choice.

The motorbike, the party

I had moved away from my community and friends in order to be closer to work, as I having to travel a long way each day to and from work, and my employers used to have to pick me up at the bus station every day as there wasn't a reliable bus link.

So I took a bedsit, the one that I kept for two years and loved, a cozy bedsit with everything I needed.

But I was isolated from my old friends and community, and my friends said I should get a motorbike.

I was quite scared, didn't think I could, but I looked into the idea, and I could do a CBT course for a small motorbike on my licence, I didn't know how to afford it, my salary was quite low.

JM was increasingly enthusiastic about me getting a motorbike so that I could still come back and see her and walk the dog and do her garden and be with my friends and help in church and community, so one day she took me to the motorbike shop.

We had already decided that the safest thing for me was a scooter-type bike.

So we went in, looking for something second-hand, but it was recommended to us that I got a new bike on finance.

The salesman was very persuasive, and he persuaded JM, who seemed easy to persuade, so she acted as guarruntor for the finance for the bike, it was a little dark red peugeuot scooter, 100cc, and it came with a free basic helmet and gloves and a free CBT training course, and they arranged the insurance and I got a year's tax too.

JM paid some money in deposit and said that this was my 21st Birthday present, I was very grateful, we had a rocky relationship in a way since I told her about her husband abusing me, but we loved each other, we were close.

I was allowed to choose from several registration plates for my scooter, as it was new.

One of the things I liked about the scooter was it had a top box so I could carry shopping and work stuff.

Anyway, the CBT day was a Saturday, which was also my 21st Birthday Party day at my friends' house back in my old community, so I was going to really hope for the best with the CBT and then go straight over to my friends house 14 miles away if I passed the test.

I was nervous, as I am, always nervous of instruction and training, and the trainer was a gruff biker, the only other trainee was a loud confident man who went on about 'the readies he had in the bank' over and over again.

I was so nervous, didn't think I could balance on the scooter, but I could, and I did.

I was fine, my problem was hearing the radio to hear what the instructor said, and forgetting to cancel the indicator, which did not always cancel automatically, I passed, but he warned me about the indicator and always to check it had cancelled.

So, already very tired, I set off to my friends' house 14 miles away. Or more, because I didn't know the short route yet.

On the way, just at a bend in the road, a policewoman stepped out and stopped me, argh! I had only just got on the road and the police had got me! No, there had been an accident up ahead and she was warning motorists to be careful of the glass. That made me nervous, but I passed the glass and was on my way.

I arrived on my little motorbike, and everyone cheered.

It was a wonderful party.

I had never had a party outside of my family, and the parties with the family had always been a bit closed, we hadn't many friends, so it was usually us and the other family.

But this was all my friends from church and youth group.

It always remains with me and makes me smile that 'The Clergy were running the bar', Peter and Tim, mainly, making sure everyone had a drink And Tim's present to me was a bottle of bucks fizz, which baffled me as I wasn't a drinker and wasn't sure what bucks fizz was! :)

I was overwhelmed with everything and everyone, people were giving me presents and the presents were piling up on the lounge floor.

We were mainly in the garden and on the patio as it was a BBQ party, so we were lucky with the weather.

I joined my youth group for a paperchase round the large and beautiful garden, a garden that had helped to inspire my horticultural career, and we had great fun.

The BBQ went well and people were taking photos - and again these photos are now sadly lost.

There was a cake, and they all said three cheers and I cut the cake, very nervous because I had never cut a cake, and my co-ordination can be so poor.

JM was so busy that she came in only briefly, and sad to say I got upset with her and my insecurity and worries came out, but we sorted it, and no-one else heard the conversation.

I was simply overwhelmed at the time, I didn't really know back then how I overloaded myself with things that my system couldn't cope with very well, and she was half-killing herself with overwork and so we were both stressed.

Anyway, when all the party guests had gone, I sat with my friends and opened the presents and cards, and my ever efficient friend wrote a list of who gave me what, so that I could make the thank you cards personal.

I stayed over with my friends, I always felt very safe and peaceful in the soft bed in their spare room, with the teddies and bolsters and books :)

And in the morning we went to church as normal.

Lovely memories.

Thursday, 13 February 2014

Show Day! :)

I will try and distinguish one show day from a number of happy and busy show days. And just add in case I need to, that this was the village and area horticultural show, not the village fete that I also helped with.

I will try to focus on one particular show day but strands of memories from all show days may intrude, and memories are blurred.in places.

Show day was not one day for me, and others, it was three days and more, because we started work on Thursday, setting up, for the pet show on Friday, the main show on Saturday and the Show Service on Sunday. There was also usually a barn dance in the marquee, I think that was Saturday night, but might have been Sunday.

We had to set up the smaller marquees, the markings and boundaries for stalls and cars, the 'roads' for car parking, the signs, the stalls, the arenas, the show tables, the hall, we had to prepare everything.

So we would start in the week before the show.
Everyone tended to know each other, and I often worked with an old chap who was reputed to be a chauvenist but never really came accross as one.
As he and I set up boundary posts with, hammering them in, he would always say to me (about the post) 'right, I nod my head and you hit it!' which is a funny joke like the Chuckle brothers used to do.

So we would all be very busy and happy, working and talking and the excitement was always building, one year the Parish also got me to do a bit of gardening by the hall to make it look neat for show day.

One time, I can't remember what happened exactly, but it started as a joke, someone was told to make sure they could drive through one of the small marquees but didn't realise it was a joke, and tried to, and knocked the marquee down.

Anyway, once the basic preparation was done, then the pet show was held on the Friday, and then we cleared away after that and continued to set up for the show, and again from early Saturday morning, while some of my friends would be putting the finishing touches on their show entries, my entries had to be finished and ready so that I could be at the showground and working.

The show didn't start until 1pm, but all morning, from early, stallholders and exhibitors were in, setting up, arranging their exhibits, and I would be helping any stallholder who needed help, to set up, as well as being on shout for any of the other workers if they needed help, it was tricky getting my own exhibits to the show and set up, and usually they ended up being minded by friends.

My first real show, a show such as described above, but the second show I had attended, I did my first exhibit, a floral art exhebition. It was my first entry, and I only did one that year, it won, and my friends got some stunning photos of it, and to me, this was like becoming real, being part of real life after the bleakness of my background, and as the years went by, the show entries increased and did well, just luck and chance you understand.

But my greatest and last show, I will describe.

I had been doing all the busy things as described above, and this was a year when I was competing with my friend, who was also my head gardener, my 'boss' if either of us thought that way, my mentor was a better description. I was busy at the showground from very early and so he was bringing both our lots of exhibits, in his car.

He had become friends with other friends of mine, through me introducing them, and so when he arrived with the exhibits, my friend shouted me, and I went to help him.
I think I was on car parking that year too.

Anyway, we were carefully moving the exhibits when between us, he and I managed to bump my glorious Coleus plant and knock a shoot off it, which was sad because it was a really perfect and beautiful plant.
Nonetheless, we tidied the damage and took the plant into the marquee, where we set up our exhibits.
Competing with my head gardener friend was to teach me better plantsmanship and how to show plants properly, he was a veteran of decades of award winning show entries, but he was a humble man and saw it all as enjoyment rather than competition, it was his hobby.

So, we set the exhibits up, and I left him chatting with my other friend and went back to my work, as the field got busier and everything got more stressful.

Here is a funny memory, one of my other friends was on car parking duty, as he usually was, he was a gruff man, but with a sense of humour, and when this shiny Bentley pulled up and a posh voice enquired 'Do OAP's get a discount?' He shouted out 'No! They have to pay more!' :)

Anyway, the judges came in to judge the exhibits, and several of them were my horticulture tutors from college, but they didn't know which exhibits were mine, obviously.

But by the time I was taking trays of tea round to the stallholders, which was a tedious job, someone came running for me, apparently everyone was looking for me and I was wanted in the show tent.

'But what about the tea?'

Someone else took over the tea, and I went to the tent with everyone very excited and making a fuss.

When I got in the tent, I was told by very excited people, that my Coleus had won best in show, and what's more, my exhibits had got 100% first prizes.
There was a Hampshire Chronicle photographer there and so I was in the Hampshire Chrincle with my prize winning coleus and my cup, which to this day must still have my name inscribed on it, folled in the next two years, maybe more, by my head gardener friend's name.

I don't remember much more after that, I was in a daze.
I went to collect my prize money and my friend's prize money, I went back with my other friends and had tee and a meal with them, at the end of the day when the show ground was clearing.

I do not remember if I went to the barn dance that year, but I probably helped with the show service the next day.

And then it was all over, for another year, maybe for me it was over forever, but the memories live on, and this is the real me, not the one-sided terrible image of me that has been created to protect wrongdoers.

Can we go round again, do it all one more time? Do it all one more time? All my friends there, not taken from me, and life full of joy and usefulness, wasnt it amazing? yes, it was amazing.

cruising down to St. Malo

There were a number of these cruises down to St. Malo, with different people on board, mainly with my group, but I think my competent crew course started with a sail down to St. Malo.

The first cruise was definitely the one where we 'went ahead of the race.

This race was a yacht race to commemorate the St. Helier yacht club boats going down to rescue the Jersey engineers from the ranche dam/barrage when the Germans invaded France in the Second World War, the St. Helier boats rescued the engineers and as a result, the St Helier yacht club get to fly a 'defaced ensign'.
Well this above is what I seem to recall being told, but I am unsure if I have recounted it correctly.

Anyway, we were not racing, our big heavy old wooden-build ketch might not be a match for those light modern boats, but we went down ahead of the race in the morning, and they were overtaking us into St. Malo, but one boat lost power and we had to tow him into the harbour at St. Malo.

We moored overnight there, we got the shower unit codes so we could shower.
We had supper in a restaurant and I remember the very fishy fish soup, which was enough of a meal for me.
I remember being fascinated by the massive harbout and all the boats.

I get confused about what happened on which trip after that, but I remember one of the massive ferries which docked near the harbour, nearly causing mishaps as we left St. malo, I remember a cruise ship with a very naughty looking face painted on the bow, and I remember my disaster with doing the sheets as we left St. Malo one time, thankfully I did not let go of the sheet but could not secure it well and the skipper got a bit impatient with me.
However, all went well.

Another St. Malo thing I remember was one time, it was evening and I think the others went to a bar, the skipper decided on an early night and I said I would go for a short walk.
The skipper said he would listen out for me as he slept lightly and I told him not to worry, I would stay close to the harbour-side, I was obviously norty by then because I added as an afterthought 'How do you say drug-dealer in French?'
He grinned at that.

Anyway, those days are gone now, those St. Malo days, and that is a pity, but at least I lived it.

On my competent crew course we did moor overnight in St. Malo, and the others went out to a bar, and one of them left me her Ipod to play with, I was not into bars, nor did I have much money, and I needed space, being on a boat and having to interact all the time was really hard for me.

well I don't know what I did to that Ipod but it keeled over and died! :(
She said it was old and didn't work very well, but it took one look at me and breathed it's last!

Well, maybe she got it working again.

The next day we went up through the barrage and onto La Ranche, and on La Ranche we practiced 'man overboard' which went well.

wow, what experiences, what an awesome life! :)

Guernsey :)

I have two Guernsey stories, the first one is a sailing one and the second one is a shorter post.

Guernsey cruise:

There were three of us on this cruise, me, another lady a bit older than me, and our skipper, who was a sage and experienced sailor, both the other lady and I were quite inexperienced at yacht cruising.

We set out on a Saturday morning, and the skipper put the report over the radio and told us what had to be said and done on a report as you left the harbour, you say your destination, boat name and who is on board etc.

we set out, and us girls learned from the skipper about how the tides in the Bay of St. Malo were strong and swift and if you didn't know what you were doing, you could spend a whole day sailing and get nowhere.
As it was, on the tides, it was going to take us until late afternoon to reach Guernsey.
The sea was not too choppy but not calm, there was enough wind, and we had a long but peaceful sail over to Guernsey.
The skipper taught us to be observing all of the sea all of the time, and I naturally became a helm, because that job always seemed to suit me, whereas my co-ordination was never spot on for doing the sheets.

Anyway, we arrived in Guernsey and were met by someone that the skipper called 'an officious man in a dorey'.
We were told where to moor, and presumably paid our fees. We were moored on a floating pontoon in one of the harbours, the one closest to the ferry, I think.
We had to wait a long time for any water taxi, and in the meantime, those photos that I treasured, of me folding the mainsail and sitting on the foredeck, were taken.

Eventually we got the water taxi or a lift from a passing dinghy, I can't remember.
We went for an evening meal at a restaurant in St. Peter Port, and I recall that it was good.

After that, we headed back by water taxi, and bedded down for the night. I didn't sleep deeply, because I wasn't used to sleeping on a boat, but I felt safe.

We woke to a glorious early morning, sunshine and clear blue sky, we had an early start due to the tides, and we also hoped to go over towards Sark just quickly, to see the puffins, before hurrying to beat the tide.

We hit problems.
Over towards the rocks off Sark, my fellow crew member managed to let go of the mainsheet as we went about, and the sheet managed to totally dislodge from it's track and go out over the water, with the mainsail, we were close to the rock, the boat was not under control now, and she couldn't grab the sheet, I grabbed the helm and helmed us off the rocks, while our poor skipper managed to grab the sheet.
We were all a bit shocked, but sailing often brings the unexpected, so once we were under control, we headed back towards Jersey.

We had an uneventful voyage back and were moored in time for evensong.

Guernsey photography:

I was a keen photographer, and spent many hours taking landscape pictures on Jersey.
One Day I decided to have a day out to Guernsey for some pictures.

I went over on the 'fag packet' Aurigney plane, sat up front, lovely views.

I had my swimsuit with me, and I had a swim in one of the tidal pools before making my way round the Island, getting pictures, pictures of gorse and Lihou Island, boats and harbours.

Eventually it was time to go back.
I lost my way and had to run to get my plane. Ha, at least I escaped.

Sark photography:

This was a lovely day out, my day on Sark, I went to do photography, but also to learn more about Sark and it's history and way of life.

I went over on the small ferry that runs between Jersey, Sark and Cartaret. A little green and white creature.
I think the Ferry may have been the Jacques Chartier :)
The windows were all misty with spray, so the views on the way were not too clear.

We arrived on Sark, and some people got the tractor ride up the hill, I think I walked. The Tractor pulls a pedestrian trailer called the 'toast rack'.

Anyway, I enjoyed exploring Sark to the full, I must have had a map or guide book, and I went through the woods down to 'the window in the rock', which is an amazing tunnel through the granite on the cliff, you have to see it to understand it, but I got some great pictures.
And on I went, Sark is quite wooded in places, where the window is and down to the harbour as well, very peaceful too.

The Gorse was in full bloom, and the cliffs blooming with gorse against the awesome green-blue mineral sea made some great pictures.

The centre of Sark was so old-fashioned, like time standing still, with a teeny little NatWest Bank, and a few shops, there was also a church, and I went to a service there while I was there, but the people were not welcoming really, it surprised me, maybe they thought I was a grockle.

I learned a bit about the Sark tin mines and about how Sarkees spoke French until tin miners from Cornwall had to come over to the Sark Tin Mines, and then English had to be learned.
I learned about the Sark ambulance, and I looked in the window of the little Estate agent in the centre of Sark, and dreamed of living there, in such a quiet place, where everyone was presumably safe.

Anyway, I went over La Coupee, to 'Little Sark, and while I was on La Coupee, which is the awesome bridge cut in between Big Sark and Little Sark, I got a lot of great pictures, the sheer sides down to the sea.

On little Sark, I had a cup of tea at the cafe, and got more photos, I got some photos of Brecqhou and Herm-Jethou across the water, all shining and beautiful.
I gather that the Barclay brothers are not too keen on their island being photographed, but I figured they wouldn't mind an innocent hobby photographer.

I headed back eventually, a quiet walk through the silent, traffic-free lanes, past horses and carts and bicycles, signs offering boat trips and ice cream, and I walked down through the woods to the harbour.
I had had a lovely day on my own, away from the stress of Jersey, and I had hundreds of good photographs, I got more photos down at the harbour as I waited for the ferry, only a few people were waiting for the Jersey ferry, which had to come over from Carteret to collect us.

It was a lovely day out from Jersey, and I sent the Lihous a card of Sark with the Heather or Gorse in bloom, because they loved to play one-upmanship about the channel islands, so I thought they would like that.
Jill said they did like that, I was still in contact with them at that time.

The Ecrehous

The Chausey Nights post seemed to go down well, so I will do a few more in that vein.

This is a shorter post, about the BBQ on the Ecrehous.

As a sailing club, we had a trip to the Ecrehous planned, including a BBQ.
And it went ahead as planned.

we set off out there on the RIB from St. Catherines, and landed.

The BBQ was soon going, and I was curiously exploring the reef we were on.
Some of us walked down to the beach on the North side of the reef, facing France.
I can't remember if we paddled in the water or not.
We also climbed up on the rocks and looked down, we saw a seal in the water!

A lady came out to greet us from the huts. There are a number of huts on the Ecrehous, they are used by fishermen and for holidays, these huts have no electricity or running water.

Anyway, this woman and her brother owned a hut, and they had grown up in Jersey but she now lived in the UK and came back for holidays, so she was on holiday in their hut on her own, having some peace and quiet.
She showed us round the hut, and told us about it and her and her brother's history of staying there, and how the hut had been in their family. It was fascinating.

Then we had the BBQ, I think she was invited and I cannot remember if she joined us.
The burgers were excellent, very good quality, thick and tasty, nothing cheap.
But, although the alcohol had been brought, the soft drinks had been forgotten! Oops!

I think I had to drink some wine.
But it was lovely out there enjoying our meal and the view, just lovely, and I know that it is not something that all Jersey people get to do.

Eventually it was getting cold and dark and we headed back to St. Catherines, tired and happy.

Anything and Everything, happy memories, and a few notes on my historic posts yesterday

I posted two posts about my early adulthood yesterday, and have been thinking about those.
I don't think I got as far as the part where I had to quit college yet.
But I think there are bits missed out of that story, it was not such an unqualified disaster, my struggles and being misunderstood, because I did end up better understanding myself and becoming part of a community as a result of leaving college when I did, halfway through the National Diploma.

I am pre-empting the rest of the story which I wrote in 2011, and will continue to repost on here, but on the them of happier memories, which my online supporters seem to like, I will add this information.

Within a year of leaving the full-time National Diploma, I had returned part-time to the agricultural college to study advanced horticulture, which was a drag, but followed that with NVQ horticulture, which was a riot! :)

I know people like happy memories, so I will share my memory of the beginning of the NVQ course.
The tutor, Mark, a groundskeeper, was quite tense and uptight at the beginning of the course, and to our surprise he burst into a rage when one of a pair of twins on the course was larking about at the back of class, Mark dragged him outside and threatened to take him to the vice-principle, I think he nearly lost half the class at that point, because that twin was part of a little group who worked together and were very much a group.
But anyway, after that incident and it's resolution, Mark relaxed, and not only did the class become a chattering, laughing, joking class, but we all could get a bit silly, and Mark joined in, I think it did him good, he taught with humour and we responded with humour, this, I think was when I started developing mild nortiness as part of my character! :) yes, I am sure of it. After years of grim struggle, I discovered joy and fun, albeit in small doses. Further developed by my lovely team mates when I became a delivery driver in the evenings, they were also a riot! :)
I think Mark left after teaching us, but I doubt that was because of us.

Anyway, I had returned to the college to study horticulture, with vociferous backing from my village community where I carried out whatever voluntary tasks I could, whilst also working in a local horticultural nursery and and doing light gardening as therapeutic work, because even though it was not known exactly what was wrong with me, I was classified unfit for work and allowed only to do therapeutic work, and my community and horticultural work was very therapeutic! :) I loved it!

Before I had even applied to return to college or thought about it, I had apologized to any agriculture tutors who I felt had struggled to understand me or had difficulties with me, and although I was undiagnozed, I was getting an idea that autism and trauma were contributors to my problems, so I did my best to explain that I had never deliberately played up.
Then, after a hearing test at this time, it was explained to me that my difficulty understanding speech was dysphasia and was classified as a learning difficulty, and that I should see an educational psychologist (this never happened), at least I was on the way to better understanding now, and also being able to explain myself to other people better, if people know what causes you to do something, it helps them to understand and be more understanding!
(This is why the church should have interviewed me properly about what has happened to me instead of going on other people's stories).

Anyway, the day I was interviewed and accepted to study horticulture, less than a year after I quit the agriculture course, the old college counsellor drove past me on the college driveway, he stopped his car and said hello and asked what I was doing there, and I told him I was returning part-time, he seemed delighted, and offered me a lift home, he gave me a lift down to JM's house as I was supposed to be walking her dog for her that evening (I lived in sheltered housing nearby), and we shook hands and parted on good terms, JM had recommended that he had more training, which is funny considering her breach of counselling ethics, but anyway, he resigned from the college not long after that, and so did my old tutor, and the safety officer who used to mentor me apparently did a 'moonlight flit', and vanished from college and his college house.
I gather that this is because the college was reputed to not look after it's staff very well in those days, and they had a high staff turnover. No-one resigned because of me, I wasn't that bad! :) No, it ended on good terms with them.
By the time I left that college, pretty much no member of staff who was there when I was a young student was still there, and the locals said the college were not good to their staff.
How can staff look after students needs if the staff themselves are not looked after?
But, the college was in transition, from traditional agriculture and countryside, to animal care and horses.
I eventually went to college in Dorset and got an equivelant level agriculture qualification to the one I had had to give up, with distinctions, and I was course rep there too. By then I was diagnosed as AS, but not properly diagnosed as PTSD or maladjusted.
Lovely little college that one in Dorset.

Oh, that brings back another memory, back to the Hampshire college, from when I was a first diploma student onwards, I used to go and help with the horses, I was not an equine student but I just liked occupation and variation and helping out, so I would trot down to the stables and clean tack, groom horses and pick out their hooves, skip out stables and get in the way. I loved it.
Again the staff changed completely during the years I used to do that.

I never rode at the college, but I loved horses, but after leaving the agriculture course and while studying horticulture, I used to ride with someone from church, she had a horse, and we used to borrow an old pony called Humbug for me to amble about on, dear little Humbug, he was very steady and calm, and we used to just wander about, Humbug was old, I don't think he would still be alive now. But sadly the owners of the fields decided to build on them, so the horses were moved away and it was harder to go out for a ride then.
I remember a funny episode, we were riding up the hill and a bus or lorry came, and my friend's horse didn't like that, so we moved into the driveway of another friend, and she looked out the window and waved, we waved back.
Later I went to have a pot of tea with the friend who's driveway we had borrowed and she said 'There I was, looking out my window, and the driveway was full of horses, so I waved, and everyone but the horses waved back!'
:)

Wednesday, 12 February 2014

Those Chausey Nights

I doubt I have said much about sailing on these blogs?

Sailing started with the churchwarden but when I sailed with him he could get carried away with sexual talk.
I only sailed with him for a few months and very quickly transferred to doing sailing courses run by the States as well as sailing socially with a group in St. Helier.

The St. Helier Group were quite inclusive and welcoming, and I learned a lot from them, we raced dinghys and also sailed yachts.
We would go for weekend sails to the other islands and France, and my all-time favourite destination was Chausey, Iles Chausey were the French Channel Islands, a group of Islands mainly Bird sanctuaries off the coast near St. Malo, but the larges Island was home to a number of holiday cottages and a nice restaurant.

I remember several stays over at Chausey, one was when I was doing my competent crew certificate with the sailing school.
We moored at Chausey and I got in a muddle rowing the dinghy and nearly got carried away on the current that runs swiftly down Chausey Sound.

Chausey was a lovely sandy Island, I remember walking on it in bare feet along the dandy paths among the tall grasses, a bit muddy trying to get to the dinghy at low tide though, someone forgot to bring the dinghy in properly! Not Me!

We had dolphins playing round the boat near Chausey, and I always remember the French yacht on the same route as us, they were fishing, and grilling the fish on a BBQ on the back of their boat, how's that for decedance?

I remember another Chausey trip with my sailing group, several boats went, and we moored in the Sound, one of the boats was piloted by inexperienced new owners and we had to help them with the lines to moor.
When we were all moored, we took the dinghys over, and we had our evening meal at the restaurant.

It was late and most of the group were merry as we returned to the boats in the pitch black night, with the stars shining bright but no other lights except the ghostly beams of the light-house sweeping over us, the sweeping beams on the cold pitch black water, and the shouting from one boat to another, reminded me of that rescue scene in titanic.

We all got back safely despite the alcohol, and settled to sleep, tired by the day's sailing and the evening's party.
Waking in the beautiful sunny morning on Chausey sound, the water calm and still and the birds crying, it was so deserted, so quiet, so beautiful.

My other great memory from my competent crew course, one of my all-time best memories, was sailing back overnight from Granville to Jersey, it was another clear night, the sea was a little bit choppy, I was told I had passed my competent crew certificate, and I was helming some of the time, and sitting out on the foredeck in my harness the rest of the time, watching for lobster pots, of which there were plenty in French waters, and also looking up at the sky, at the clear dark sky and bright stars, it was heavenly, no wonder people spend their life out there! I have always looked enviously at the commercial ships, if it wasn't so risky I would love a life out there on the sea.

Anyway, we had a course plotted, but really we just followed the lights on Jersey's telecom tower, which can be seen almost from France.

We arrived back into Jersey at about 5am, very tired, and went home to sleep.

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

Anything and everything and happy memories

Just to comment on the last three posts.
I was not abused at college, not sexually, not by the staff.
I do not make abuse up, if abuse happens, I say so, if it doesn't I do not.
I didn't have any sexual relationships at college, I had innuendos and sexist comments from students, but that is almost normal from young males, especially when they are bored.
I was the only female on the first diploma in forestry and countryside, and one of only three females on the national diploma.
I saw the staff at college, who were all mainly male due t othe type of college it was, as the adults who knew all the answers and reassurance.
I did not, and still do not really, know how to relate to people as adults or be an adult in relationships, I tend to see the other person as the adult in friendships, and my friends tend to be older than me.
The college has changed, it was once an agriculture and countryside college, male dominated, now it specializes in animal care and equestrianism, and is much more female populated.
Things did get better eventually, in my life, although I was never well off or successful, but, lets return to happy memories, by popular request.

Trinity Centre Collections:

The Trinity Centre was once a well-hidden building in a side road by the Station Roundabout near where I used to live.
Someone I knew and got on well with in church held a position in the Trinity Centre, and I talked to him about helping out there, but I never got around to actually applying to the centre itself for a role, I had many other volunteering roles at the time.

But this person from church asked me if I would like to help with a street collection for the Trinity Centre in Winchester City Centre one Saturday.
Street Collections are quite demanding for me, because it involves interaction with the public and usually being in a crowd.
But anyway, I did this street collection, standing there in town, holding my tin and smiling.

It went well.

And all the years later, I had to use the Trinity Centre, only to have the Diocese violating me there and at the nightselter, and giving me a bad name.
By then there was no sign of the person from church who used to be involved, the whole thing was like all my old world and good character and usefulness washed away, and I was using the centre I had been so keen to support, and was given a bad name and violated there by the Diocese.
Well, at least I was once able to help them, back when I was human and valid.

North Walls:

This is a great memory, it goes back to those early days in Winchester.
The Winchester Bonfire Carnival and Parade, as it is now called. Run by the Round Table.
We used to just call it 'North Walls'.

I had never seen anything like it, my Mum and Dad were so against carnivals that when I was young, they wouldn't even let us look out the Window at one going past.
They said that carnivals were spirit worship.

But I had to break away from some of their beliefs when I left them.

That first November was both amazing and a bit scary for me, the flaming brands scared me. But this became part of my life every year, a lovely part.

The parade starts down by the King Alfred Statue, people start gathering early, and then the vendors come along with the trolleys full of light sticks, light rings, sparklers and of course, fire brands.
The roads are closed and the band starts preparing, people begin to crowd, fire brands are lit, and the fire engine comes through.
Eventually it is very crowded and barriers are in place so that the band and fire engines can line up, the police are there, controlling the crowds.
Then the parade starts, the band, the stilt-walkers and jugglers, the fire engines. they start to move up through the town centre, and people begin to follow, up through the town centre, with a lot of people turning off onto George Street, it is an awesome sight, believe me.
You look back and thousands of people carring flaming brands in the dark are behind you, all the way down to the Guildhall, and more beside you and ahead of you, with crowds coming through off George Street too, you have to keep looking back as you pass the library and head onto North Walls, it is awesome to see!

The cars at the junction have been stopped, and it must be awful for them to have to wait while thousands of people flock past, or maybe it is fun to watch.
Some people head down Hyde Street and through the back roads to the recreation ground, but most go down by the Leisure Centre eaither side of it, down across the River, and onto North Walls Rec, where I used to walk the dog so often.
But no dogs there that night, not with fire and fireworks everywhere.

People spread out across the rec, most fire brands are burning down now, and being discarded.

There are fairground rides, and stalls selling candy floss, popcorn, hot dogs, jacket potatoes, and tea of course!

People wander round the stalls as the crowd continues to arrive, streaming in across the rec.
The round table volunteers shake buckets for donations as they do not (did not) charge anything.

Fireworks are going off in other places nearby, and that adds to the atmosphere.

The field is partially lit by bright white lights, but over behind the barriers, the bonfire is a gigantic dark mound, almost as big as a house, with shadowy mysterious figures working in and around it.

The Radio station presenting the fireworks display is blaring, speaking to members of the public, keeping people entertained, maybe.

The crowds begin to flock to the barriers, it is always a long wait in the cold, first for the bonfire to be lit, and then the fireworks.

Eventually the Radio DJ gets people to count down to the bonfire being lit, and it lights, and is so hot that you can feel the heat from the barriers, and so bright that it lights up the field.

The children are always restless and trying to get a better view, which makes me nervous as I do not like physical contact and being bumped and pushed by children who are trying to get to the front.

Anyway, after a long cold wait, it is time for the fireworks, the DJ makes us count down a few times, which always annoys me, why do we have to do this?
Anyway, the fireworks begin, accompanied by Handel's Fireworks music, too loud, again, this is another annual annoyance. No-one knows Handel's fireworks, so it is irrelevant to most people, and it is too loud, not needed.

The Fireworks, though, are the best ever, because they always are. Especially this time.
And afterwards, we walk home through the cold, part of the crowd as we walk up to Hyde and cut through from there to get home as the crowd thins, home to hot tea and a chat about how wonderful that evening has been, it is late now, and we are tired.

Sadly, this part of life is also in the past, even if I could get to Winchester or be there safely, the Round Table now charge for the bonfire and fireworks display entrance, I don't know if they charge for the carnival.
Years of lovely memories though.
Old Winchester, as it was. It is so lovely to remember.

Lets Go Back, part 3, I had forgotten what a struggle college was

During this year I became friends with ****, a First Diploma Student, who was friends with my friend ***, who had done the ILB and was now on First Diploma, **** and I became very close, but she was extremely wild and mischievous, as well as very confident with the tutors though she disliked the other students on her course, I always watched in amazement as she confidently approached the tutors and chatted to them, I stood there in silence or only spoke to her, I did not know how to speak to them, **** had a lot of problems, but she could speak to adults really easily, students and people she didn’t know got the cold shoulder though, me and her and *** became a team, we looked after each other, and we were joined by another student with more serious problems than any of us, her name was *****, she had a violent stepdad who abused her badly, I didn’t know that until JM told the whole of ****** church about it in one of her sermons, she didn’t use *****’s name, but I recognised who she was talking about and wondered even then if she should have done that, as I was not the only agriculture student in the church, and may not have been the only one who knew who she was talking about. (I did speak to JM afterwards about this, and she confirmed it was that student and that maybe she shouldn't have used that example).

***** self harmed, had serious panic attacks and was suicidal and openly sexually interested in her tutor, graphically telling me and **** what she wanted to do to him, we laughed in astonishment and horror at these revelations, even **** blushed as this was her and ***’s tutor, who was in a relationship and was very nice and totally proper and well behaved with us, I do not know if she was able to complete the course, I think not, as she was truly struggling.

As for me, I was set apart from my classmates, unable to be part of the group at all, and that was not for want of trying, I did my college work, I did my farm duties, but I was nervous of my classmates, especially as one of them continued to mentally bully me, he didn’t like girls working on farms, and he tried to pick fights with the confident 16 year old farmer’s daughter and failed because she metaphorically squashed him into a little ball and threw him on the dung heap, but he found that he could cause me to become very agitated and distressed, so he persisted, and I got to the point of swearing at him, which was very very strange to me.

I had been brought up non-swearing and it was not at all natural, but I told him to f-off after a prolonged period of dealing with his patronising and antagonising behaviour, the group often swore and made innuendos at each other, so when he went away I thought nothing of it, but he complained to a tutor and I was told off, but again I was not the only one who he did this to, he was about as popular as me in the group, the group had long since nicknamed him ‘brown-nose’ because of his relationship with the group and the tutors, but he was confident and skilled in farm work and I was not, so he fared better than me.

In all of this my rocky, confused counselling relationship continued, the counsellor couldn’t get me to talk about anything properly, because I could not, but he got me to tell him about sexual abuse, he was a confusing man, and I certainly got confused, he used to offer me his hand and say ‘that’s a lifeline’ and he talked about hugging me, he would sit next to me in the counselling room, holding my hand, and I was puzzled, he was a strange man, he got cross with my inability to be part of the counselling relationship, and he threatened to put me over his knee and spank me once, I told him NO! And he assured me he had no meant it in an inappropriate way, but the counselling relationship was really screwed up, and I have no doubt that a lot of blame lies in me for that, I got angry when he got impatient, I got angry when he arranged a time and did not keep to it, I got angry at what he said and did, I got reliant on him, just as I developed a reliance on other tutors there, I think this reliance was insecurity, being away from the ‘closed cult’ family I had grown up in but still being influenced by things my parents told me over the phone, I was frightened a lot of the time and looking for reassurance, I couldn’t find any reassurance in the student welfare officer, she and I didn’t get on, I didn’t like her office because it was full of information on safe sex and free contraceptives and STD advice, posters of such things everywhere, flaunting it, when I was still firmly under the belief system that it was wrong to encourage sex outside of marriage, this woman seemed to think that student welfare revolved around safe, shameless, flaunted sex.
(I still do not believe that people just sleeping with anyone is ok, I think it is harmful physically, emotionally and spiritually, but I am still not mature enough for any adult relationship, so my view is just my view).

So I took up too much of my tutor’s time, and the counsellor’s time, as I tried to deal with the wildly revolving counselling relationship where he was GUESSING things about abuse I suffered, and I was too nervous to correct him, and I was simply very distressed, he had tried to continue counselling me while I was working at the college in the holidays, but I temporarily ended the counselling relationship then, I could not cope with being forced to remember sexual abuse and leaving him to verbalise it, incorrectly, I wanted to know what was wrong with me, and I wanted to talk about the other things that had happened and about my parents and their influence on me. Sadly my resentment and the feelings that the counsellor was bringing up all ended up turning into extreme dislike of him, I tried to control this dislike and was learning about self-help.

During one of a few breaks in the counselling relationship, which I initiated, I found a book on self-counselling and started to learn that everyone has problems and that there is a link between past experiences and present behaviour and attitudes, it was as if I was kind of waking up, the past for me was a blur that I couldn’t think about or really remember, it has only been in the past month that for the first time I have written my past down in detail. (remember this was written in 2011)

I really caught the self help bug, I got tapes, I got books, but I wondered at the fact that no matter how I tried to link theory to practice, there was still a strange gap, a lack of understanding or ability to implement what I was learning, a fuzziness, I went over affirmations frequently, listened to tapes in my sleep, but still I was detached from the world and other people, and still I did not understand a lot of what people were saying anyway, I had never really questioned this. But I used to get in so much trouble with my dad for not being able to comprehend, I was punished frequently and painfully, but I couldn’t explain to him why I didn’t know what he was saying.

In hindsight I think the variety of self help I was taking on was too much and too confused anyway, I was being showered with ‘techniques’ to solve every imaginable problem, but it wasn’t that simple. But over the years I have actively tried to help myself and develop myself, and have continued to feel anguish and embarrassment that I have problems that I cannot resolve and am still spoken about in the same way by people and still ‘odd’. And there are limitations to self help; I cannot learn anger management or behavioural therapy from a book.

I understood the tutors in class as they wrote on the blackboard, but the classroom echoed and I found that painful and it gave me a headache, I liked being outdoors for practicals, but couldn’t understand instructions would tense up at having to work with the other students, especially the smart 16 year old who everyone loved, she made me feel small, and the big bully also continued his rampage through my life as I obviously struggled to keep up, it was stressful, but my home life remained happy.

The counselling relationship was coming to an end, I got into trouble because the counsellor was going to be teaching me in the final year of the course and he said the counselling relationship needed a conclusion; my reply was ‘What is a conclusion? This relationship’s conclusion is that it didn’t work? What are you on about anyway?’

I did not know what a conclusion was, nor was he explaining, just telling me that it had to conclude, and he kept on about it, I was skipping seeing him anyway, so I was annoyed about him pestering me and not explaining, I was rude to him and told him that **** told me about his teaching and that he told people not to walk on the grass in case they killed it and that his ambition in teaching was to get one equine student every year interested in grassland management, I did not like this man at all, I avoided him, and he was annoyed when I tactlessly told him that I saw him in ******, he said that was to do with boundaries, I knew where a number of tutors lived, I had no idea it was a boundary thing, a lot lived on site or in Winchester, one of my tutor friends told me about letting his cottage out to another of my tutors,
I wasn’t bothered, I didn’t go to their houses, I was happy in my home.
So it got to a point where the counsellor gave me a note via my tutor, in front of everyone, demanding a conclusion, and the tutor read it out, I threw the note down the drain,(this lack of confidentiality was as unethical as possible but in those days I had no idea of such things, however, both the tutor and the counsellor should have done).

I went, I sat there in silence, he sat there in silence, I was annoyed and told him I wanted to go outdoors, the room always felt too close and claustrophobic, he let me go, I walked out, a few weeks later I saw him in college and asked what on earth it was all about, he said it was so he could teach me in the final year without either of us remembering the counselling, he sat with me again, he asked why I played up and messed around and didn’t talk when I was perfectly bright and capable, I lost my temper and swore and left the room, I got in trouble with the tutor and got a warning, which was later withdrawn because another member of staff stood up for me and also because I was helping out with college events successfully, I made a complaint about the counsellor, but that came to nothing. I resigned from being course representative; I thought it was stupid to try to do something I wasn’t capable of, in a group where I was an outsider.

One of my worries as college started to finish, was my friend ***, she was struggling badly with her final assessments and coursework, and seemed unable to get any help, she had learning difficulties, her subject tutors were not very helpful, her course tutor was ‘having problems’ and left the college, the tutors who wouldn’t help her were the same ones who were not very helpful to me. I worried about her and did my best to be there for her, though I didn’t feel very helpful. She left college at the end of term with a few assessments she had to come back and retake before she graduated, and she couldn’t afford another year at college, she works in a pub now, and longs to go back into agriculture.

Lets go back part 2

My landlady was going away for the first week I would be back at her house, and she trusted me with care of the house, which, back then was a bit of a risk as I was not as responsible with property then as I have become, and my first week back at college was incredibly stressful, so my landlady came back to an untidy and chaotic house, but still took me out for a meal, which shows what a decent person she is.

College in this first year of the NDA (National Diploma in Agriculture), was very hard, on the first diploma I had been surrounded by students with problems and disabilities, so I fitted in better, the National Diploma was all high-flyers with experience, ability, and without exception they were settled, had family, and didn’t have learning difficulties, I was the idiot, but because I was undiagnosed with anything whatsoever and had the ability with coursework I was put on the NDA instead of being put on the easier NCA (National Certificate in Agriculture) and having the option of ‘Bridging’ to the final year of the NDA if I was able to cope, which is what other students with problems would have done. If I had done that then I would have completed the NCA easily I think, and history would have changed because I would never have gone to Dorset in the end and thus would have been unlikely to have gone to Jersey either.

But no one knew what was wrong, they thought I was unsocialised or traumatised at most, and that I would gain confidence and be ok, I did not and I queried the tutors about my machinery skills and was told that I had an MO1 and some students on the course did not, so I was ahead of them, but MO1 did not mean that at all, it meant I had proved safe operation, not experience, and all the others had the experience, I was right, I should not have been on the NDA, if I had done NCA then I would have been alongside entry level students and may have been ok, but as it was I was simply not ready for NDA practically or emotionally, and the other students knew it, they tormented me, they wrote things about me on the bus shelter and walls, they wrote unkind notes about me that I saw, and as, despite my problems, I was course representative, when I was giving out student notices in class, I told them off for writing these things, which made the tutor cross.

I was struggling, college gave me a headache, I was sick with anxiety and had no idea that that was why I was sick, I was seeing the mad headed counsellor again and dealing with his frustration at my inability to articulate anything whatsoever to him, and I was facing the frustration of my fellow students and my tutors, I was a square peg in a round hole, a nice metaphor for me on the wrong course, the stress was terrible, but at least outside of college I was happy, in my ‘home’ and walking the dogs, going to Southampton and sanctuary at weekends, doing my news rounds again in the morning, for which I was laughed at by my fellow students, and then to my surprise the newsagents offered me a Sunday job minding the shop, I was delighted, I was in sole charge of the shop, and luckily it was a quiet little local shop where the people knew the owners, and so somehow I coped with the short Sunday shift, I know I wasn’t the usual chatty shop girl, but I survived, but just as I was on edge throughout the college day, I was on edge working in the shop, I was a bundle of tension, but I believe it did help my ability to speak a bit, people who came in the shop were friendly and expecting friendliness, and that helped, I also got free tea and bacon sandwiches while on duty.

Christmas came, and I didn’t go back to my parents house for Christmas, I went to my Brother’s house, he was married and his marriage was an unsettled one with three stepchildren, he and his wife lived on a grotty housing estate in *********, not far from where we had survived some of the worst years of our young lives, my Brother and his wife fought a lot, my brother worked as a delivery driver and came in late at night and they would fight when he got in, I had got used to being in a quiet place and was unsettled by this, the stepchildren were quite disturbed, their dad had been violent, he had threatened them and their mum with a knife as well as hitting them, my brother looked after the children but wasn’t attached to them, I went back to look at where I had spent the 12th year of my life, to see that it was a real place and not just a nightmare, it was real, boarded up, derelict, surrounded by rubbish.

I was relieved to return to Hampshire. My Brother and his wife split up and divorced soon after that, and he met and married another woman with the same name and who also had three children, they now have four more children and have stuck together despite it being a troubled marriage. They moved to ************, the wife’s home, and it became difficult to see my brother or stay in contact with him there.

Spring came, and I had to do work experience, I managed to get a placement nearby, it wasn’t the easiest placement though, one of the two other females on my course was on the same placement, her family farmed next door to the placement farm, she had been lambing on her own farm and this neighbouring farm since she was a child, she was very self confident and bossy and had no respect for me, she even told me that it didn’t matter that she was 16 and I was 19, because she knew more than me and therefore could tell me what to do, she was not in charge though, the farm manager’s daughter was, and she had a wicked temper and did not understand my slowness to comprehend things or my lack of speech, she really was very unkind, and while she was friends with the 16 year old, I was isolated and upset, the 16 year old lived in a million pounds farmhouse and had everything she ever wanted, even her own car, she called her parents by their first names and really was puffed up, I felt so small and scruffy and ashamed, I didn’t have nice equipment or clothes or brand name overalls as she did, at least this year I had had a grant for overalls, the previous year I had none, she was also a leader of the young farmers club, and so I felt unable to join the young farmers club.

Another student came on the placement, a first diploma, he was very sexually frustrated and wanted to ‘roll in the hay’ with me, and he looked at porn a lot and got into trouble at college for looking at it on the college computers.My boundaries were confused, but after a few days I stood up to him and said NO, which he accepted, he was ok really, he left college and became a mechanic in Winchester, and in later years repaired my cars several times.

I was very relieved when the placement ended, I passed all the requirements, but barely, the tutors were worried, and I couldn’t explain to them why I was as I was, they said that they couldn’t see me passing the course, and told me I had to start talking and communicating properly.
People thought I was perfectly intelligent and thus that I was only playing up.

I went to one of the First Diploma Tutors, who was a gruff but honest man, who occasionally lost his temper and shouted at me for my oddness, but he his heart was really kind and I knew it, so I asked him how to communicate with people, I told him I really did not know how, I said to him ‘how do you answer when someone says ‘alright?’ to you?’ But I still didn’t really understand even after that conversation, I tried really hard, but when people spoke to me I froze and could not take in their words or know what to say, and this has remained the case with people I don’t know well until recently, since being homeless I know to answer ‘Alright?’ with ‘Awright pal’. But back then I tried so hard but could not communicate.

I was terrified of losing my course, especially because I was worried about being forced to return to my parents, and never being able to get a job. The tutors said that with my communication skills and ‘awkwardness’, they couldn’t see me getting a middle year work placement in order to complete the course, I felt helpless, they were not going to help me or recommend me for a placement, but I tried very hard indeed to find a placement, I had to do it all by email or letter, because my phone skills were so bad, I sound like a little child on the phone and am very embarrassed when people point that out, or put the phone down thinking I am a hoaxer, and I find the static and the (then undiagnosed) dysphasia really bad on the phone.

So I emailed and wrote for placements, then to my surprise a placement came up, in Wales, it was a placement for a year as a trainee shepherdess on a lower hill farm in Wales, they only accepted females, it would be a trainee placement, so suitable for a less experienced agricultural student, it sounded good, they trained people up to NPTC exams and got them their own sheepdog and everything, I thought that if I could go on this placement then I would come back to college for the final year, the farm management year. Competent and up to standard, but though I got the placement, it was not all it promised to be and it could not work out for me in the end, but the placement was offered some months before college ended, so I mustn’t jump ahead.

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