cathy fox coming home

Coming Home by JJ

by cathy fox blog on Child Abuse

JJ has sent me a copy of her book, Coming Home, which she has kindly allowed me to blog.

I blog just the introduction and first chapter but include a link to the rest – JJ Coming Home 272 pages, 1MB pdf [17]

This covers her life from approximately 2013 -2016 and is a story of her battle to survive with all that has been thrown at her in life.

It is hard to keep your head above water at times, and when it sinks below it is ten times harder to get it back above water. However JJ never bemoans what life has thrown at her

A beautiful soul who not only endures more than most and often lives on or below poverty level, JJ nevertheless finds the time and energy to do several 70 mile walks to raise money for others.

A list of links about JJ and my previous articles about her is at the end.


When you are a rough sleeper, destitute, broken, branded, abandoned and destroyed, the journey of rebuilding yourself and your life is harsh and challenging. That is why some choose to give up and stay in the dark. It is easier to give up than fight your way back up towards normality and quality of life. People don’t realise that you can’t put a rough sleeper in a house and say ‘Problem Solved!’.

My life has been all battles, but possibly rebuilding from being a rough sleeper while the Church of England’s un/civil war about my abuse case raged in the press and media was the hardest battle of my life. And one of the most incredible.

I am female and autistic, I also have avoidant attachment disorder, which means that even without the abuse and horror that I have lived through, I am predisposed to being vulnerable and isolated as well as depressed and anxious.

This book is my story of three years rebuilding my life after rough sleeping, starting with nothing but myself and a few bags of tatty possessions and the loving support of a couple who have been like parents to me since they met me when I was sleeping rough. I refer to them as my adoptive parents throughout the book.

Beggars can’t be choosers, they say. Although I was never a beggar while I was a long term rough sleeper. But what I mean is, when I was in very difficult situation and was sent a message by the lodging house landlord, offering me a room, I grabbed that chance and I took the room and left the streets. It was a very lucky opportunity to have arisen, to be honest, but that is another story. The other story/ies will be available in due course.

The room I was offered was my chance at a whole new life, although the old life and it horrors were still chasing me. And in the end I re-created the life I had before, only better in some ways and with the addition of the psychological scars and the ongoing war with the Church of England.

Chapter 1

For a long term rough sleeper, leaving the streets is a shock to the system. Being indoors is terrifying and bewildering and hard to adjust to, it is not a happy ending. It is like a plane crash-landing onto a runway and bouncing as it continues along the runway.

I had been on the streets for three years. I was still very traumatised and was caught up in the battle between members of the Church of England in the press over my case. To make it worse, a group of bloggers who considered themselves to be human rights activists and investigative journalists also increased the harm with their well-meaning but inaccurate accounts of my case, and just as the press ignored my voice and side of things, these bloggers added to the anguish by doing the same, apart from two bloggers who communicated with me and did their best to make sure I was heard, albeit to a smaller audience than the press coverage of my case was getting.

My effort to leave the streets in 2013 was one of a number of efforts all of which so far had failed.

And this was the second time that I went to live at this particular lodging house, the first effort hadn’t worked out well but at least it had started me on my journey away from the streets.

It’s difficult to do disentangle my leaving the streets from the church war that was going on in the background when I left the streets but these two things were not entirely connected. Throughout this book I try to focus on how I rebuilt my life, but it is impossible not to draw attention to the continued Church War, and how it’s periodic surfacing impacted on my new life and my rehabilitation. The Church war will be covered in other books, as will my life as a rough sleeper and previous to that.

If this book makes any profit, then the money will be used on my continued rehabilitation, therapy, support and progress.

It was in March 2013 that I had first attempted to leave the street had a proper concerted effort on my own to end my rough sleeping lifestyle. That first effort had been about a month in a lodging house where I was the only female and that men have all had problems including alcohol. I didn’t feel safe there. When I left the lodging house that March it was snowing and I had pneumonia as a result of the poor hygiene in the lodging house.

So it was November 2013 but I tried again to leave the streets, with more success this time. And by then the whole of the Church of England war had kicked off in the press.

I wasn’t really in a fit state to be on the streets anymore, so traumatised and bewildered by couldn’t think straight.

I was invited to go back to the lodging house and despite the failure of the last stay there I decided to go back.

Unfortunately it wasn’t any better. I didn’t really have enough money to keep a roof over my head and I was still the only female in a house full of men with problems. I felt very vulnerable.

One of the residents who had been there previously was still there, he had previously stolen from me and abused me. It was very unpleasant to have to live in the same house as him especially as the landlord had deliberately not told me that he was still there because the landlord had wanted me to come back.

I was back in the same room that I had had the previous had time and it was nice to have some familiarity. The room itself was alright but very small.

The house wasn’t a very pleasant place, with no hot water or heating it was hard to keep warm and hard to keep clean. it is unsurprising that I had contracted pneumonia and whooping cough there the previous time.

It was hard to live in this house because I was nervous all the time. I didn’t have enough money for food. So I would go to the outreach every week and they would give me a hot meal and a food parcel. I would help in return with washing up, and I would lay tables and help other people there.

The lodging house was quite isolated, up a hill and out of the way, I struggled to walk up the hill home, down the hill and into town, and I had no money for the bus. I felt very alone and very frightened, I had felt better when I was sleeping rough.

Throughout the time that I lived on the streets I was often told that I should live indoors and that I be better off indoors but I had always felt unable to be indoors because of the trauma that I had suffered which I relived every time I spent a night indoors.

Trying to overcome this trauma and suffering nightmares and flashbacks every night in those early days was living hell. And of course I had night terrors about dying estranged from my family, branded by police and church and being a figure of ridicule in the press and media in death even more than I was in life. I still have such traumas and terrors.

So life off the streets wasn’t much fun, and the battle in the background between the Church members in the press was hurting me very badly. I felt worthless and useless during the day because I couldn’t work and I didn’t think I would ever be able to find structure in my life because if I couldn’t work what could I do?

There was hopelessness in trying to build a new life in the terrible and destroyed state I was in, branded for life, unable to work and unable to come to terms with losing everything that I had had in my life before I became homeless. My life was very bleak indeed at this point. All I could to was hoped that things were going to get better and that I would find a reason to live and to stay indoors.

Each day I would make my way from the lodging house to the town, I would go to the library, I would go down to the sea and watch the boats, although that would make me sad for the life that I had lost.

And the library was hard for me, with no point in study or self-help any more. My life was behind me now, this was a dreadful empty afterlife, but I still didn’t give up.

The days were spent hanging around town with nothing to do, and trying to get food as cheaply as possible usually from the reduced section at the supermarket. The evenings were a bit better because I could lie in bed and wrapped up warm against the cold in the house, and I could watch television and escape the reality of my terrible situation. I found the television comforting, it was also a luxury to me after my time on the streets, where of course there is no television.

I think there were only a few advantages to being indoors at the time, including being out of the bad weather, being able to watch television, and being able to make hot drinks.

It was almost impossible to pay the rent and get food, I didn’t have enough money. I wasn’t on Housing Benefit and I didn’t know how to apply for it, I felt that Housing Benefit was very hard to apply for, and that I wouldn’t be able to explain myself to the Council, and that I would be vulnerable to being traced by the Church of England and their associated authorities who have harmed me, if I did apply for Housing Benefit.

So I was in a desperate situation I was in danger of either starving or losing the roof over my head. I felt very vulnerable to the CofE, and I felt that it wasn’t a good idea for me to go back to sleeping rough if I could avoid it, I had been ill with chest infection and I was very tired and injured from the Church War and the press reports. This Church civil war and press releases will be more adequately described in other books. I want to focus on talking about coming off the streets here. Unfortunately, as I write this, several years later, the war and the nasty press releases aren’t over yet as far as I know.

I was trying to find structure and reasons for living now that I was off the streets and no longer focussing only on survival, which, funnily enough, is what kept me alive on the streets.

Thankfully the house had internet, and I would go online in the morning and evening and blog about this new life, just as I had blogged every day about life on the streets. Then I would sign onto a website where you click on things and your click means someone sponsors other people in need, for example you click and it pays for a cup of rice for a hungry family, or you click and someone pays towards school books for a poor family. I hope this helped people, it gave me a reason to get up in the morning. Then I would work on a website I was trying to build to help other homeless people, but I felt too inadequate and useless to continue this.

I decided, despite seeing little point in it, to join in the online courses offered free through the local library website, I studied all kinds of things but the courses were American-based so the terminology could be frustrating, and the library didn’t warn learners of this.

One of the other things that I found good about living indoors was that I had access to YouTube through the Internet and I could listen to music as much as I liked and that helped me to calm down. Some of the songs I remember listening to a lot at this time included ‘sailing’ by Christophe Cross and other similar songs. My life runs to a kind of sound-track of songs that resound with me at different times, so this was a soundtrack to my new life. One of the reasons for the song sailing was that it didn’t remind me too much of my old life and my joyful sailing days, but it was a good theme for living by the sea, and I also had a faint hope of one day being able to sail again although at the time I was not in a fit state to sail.

I continued to have persistent flashbacks day and night and nightmares, I would wake up terrified and distressed in the night, and being indoors made this worse. I was afraid to sleep. Being awake in the night wasn’t a good thing because my thoughts were dark and sad.

Lack of money forced me to go to the Jobcentre in the end and explain to them that I wasn’t able to get food and pay my rent, they told me I should apply for Housing Benefit, but I explained that I felt unable to, and they gave me a food bank voucher and told me that the food bank was at an evangelical church some distance away, even further from my home. The food bank was open two days a week for a certain number of hours.

So the next food bank day, I set off from my home and walked the miles to the food bank, no money for the bus and not looking forward to trying to get the food parcel home on foot, but at least I would have food for a while.

The food bank people were typical evangelicals, they wanted to know the gory details, which I refrained from telling them, they wanted me to come to church, they wanted me to pray. I wonder how other people who aren’t indoctrinated deal with all this, but I needed any support I could get at the time, so I enjoyed some hot drinks and a chat with the food bank staff, and they made me up a generous food parcel, and not only that, they gave me a lift home!

Once home, I felt overwhelmed with relief and gratitude, it was like a head-rush. It was nice to cook a big meal too. Because although the hygiene was poor and sharing a small kitchen with a load of men terrified me, at least there were cooking facilities in the house. I did risotto, just simple spam with onion and tomato and rice, it was heavenly.

The evangelicals wanted me back on Sunday, and although I was terrified of church, I saw this as a faint hope, a lifeline, a way forward, to actually be with people and do something. This is what all rough sleepers need. A long term rough sleeper newly off the streets needs structure and community, otherwise they may give up in despair or return to the streets.

My experiences of church had been so bad that I was very unsure of allowing church to be part of my life again. But it was a lifeline at a time I needed a lifeline, and these people had been kind to me and make sure I had food. So I grabbed the lifeline, and that Sunday and walked the miles up and down the hills to the Church.

Going to church left me in a panic but the evangelicals from the Food bank helped me as best they could, after the service and they did their best to make me feel welcome but it was a small church and a small church room so I never did stop panicking. The church of England had made me feel that I could not be part of the church or attend a church or be welcome. I always have and always will feel like a ‘Bad Goat’ in relation to churches, but at the time I needed the lifeline that this church offered.

It was December now, although it was a fairly mild December, the house where I was living wasn’t heated, and when I was at home I was cold, being cold indoors is very different from being cold as a rough sleeper, when you’re a rough sleeper, you are either moving about, wrapped in layers of blankets or clothes, or sheltering somewhere warm, but when you are in a cold house, you can’t keep moving about and you can’t keep warm. This was a house with no heating and no hot water and a landlord who did not like the use of heaters.

When the church heard that I had to go home to a cold house, some of them are invited me home, they told me that they had a warm home and a chicken in the oven. I haven’t had an roast dinner for as long as I could remember.

Again I was terrified my memories of the church and people in the church in the terrible way that I have been blamed for bad behaviour of Church of England members overwhelmed me. I was literally shaking but this was survival, in the same way that everything I had done on the streets to keep myself alive and well had been.

Being in a normal domestic family home was still quite a novel experience for me, the lodging house wasn’t a normal domestic family home.

This evangelical couple who took me home were retired. An English teacher and A nurse. Of course this caused flashbacks I say with a slight grin hoping you will read or have read my other stories about my life. I have had experiences of English teacher and nurse couples before, and this was one of the incidences of my past life replaying itself in my new life.

Their house was warm, very much a home. The couple had a jigsaw puzzle on the living room table, they encouraged me to do some of the puzzle. Again this was a novelty to me, part of domestic living that I had forgotten about. I felt kind of sad and out of place in a home belonging to people who had always known home and normal life and good things.

It was nice to have such a good meal, and to be in a warm house. In evening we went to church again and then they dropped me off at home, they wanted me to keep coming to church, to church groups, and to the Food bank every time it was open. The Food bank had a café for anyone who needed a chat and who was isolated and you didn’t need a Food bank ticket to attend. So now at least I had some lifeline and structure in my life, I just had to built on it. It remained terrifying for me because it was a church.

So now my life consisted of Internet every day, studying clicking on the hunger site to provide food and essentials for other people, writing about my life and keeping my daily blog, going to the outreach once a week, going to the Food bank café twice a week, and going to church on Sundays. Life was becoming more structured and less isolated, but it remained a terrifying tightrope walk, with my fear of church, and the nightmares and flashbacks, and continued harm to me by the Church of England.

However, life at the lodging house was deteriorating, realistically it was not the place for a vulnerable woman, it hadn’t been the first time around, but it was a roof over my head. The man who had been there when I was there previously was noisy and disruptive and I lived in fear of him. I was finding the cold and the lack of hygiene and the lack of hot water very difficult, and there were times when I felt that I would have been better off on the streets.

If you ever meet a long term rough sleeper, don’t make the same mistake that so many have made with me and tell them that their problems will all be solved if they get a roof over their head. Unfortunately a roof over their head of a long term rough sleeper brings many more problems to them, it isn’t a magical solution. It is a hard and isolating and terrifying choice to make to leave the streets, it instantly separates you from the comradeship of the other rough sleepers among other things as well as a lot of support that specifically targets rough sleepers.

When someone leaves rough sleeping, they have no money, and usually the accommodation that they get is hostel or lodging house. Unsafe, unsettled and often furthering the harm already suffered.

I was in a position where I didn’t have many choices, I had a roof over my head, and despite the fact that it was not a good roof, it would have been foolhardy to return to rough sleeping in the winter and just before Christmas, especially as it was a very rainy winter. So I advertised for another place to live, despite having no money, no work and no way of explaining myself to a prospective landlord.

December 2013 was out of the frying pan and into the fire.

I was very swiftly offered a room near the lodging house. I hoped for the best as it was not a lodging house, but I was uneasy about it from the start.

The landlord seemed very expansive and generous, saying I was welcome to have the run of the house and all the usual spiel that these people come out with. And although I decided to take the place due to needing to be in a place with hot water and heating before I got pneumonia again, and because I needed to get away from the men at the lodging house and the poor hygiene there, I was uneasy about it. But let me put it this way, this new room had an ensuite where the shower curtain was not covered in bogeys where people had picked their noses and wiped on the shower curtain. And that is just one example of the lodging house, I am not sure you want any more!

Anyway, I accepted this room despite it costing £20 more than the other one, living alone in this house with this man. I didn’t see a problem with that, it wouldn’t be the first time I had shared a house with a man and been alright. I was more uneasy about other things, he had a dog and when I offered to walk the dog he said it was dangerous and could bite, now that seemed strange, the dog was never muzzled and showed no interest in biting.

Within a week I was more concerned because this guy I was living alone with had a background. It turned out that he had not one but two ex-wives as well as an ex-partner who he was fighting with, and fighting over custody of his children by all of them. He would sometimes fight with them very loudly by phone late at night, including threats and talking about when he was in prison. I started to feel worried.

I was still frightened to sleep indoors anyway and was unable to sleep until the early hours and was having violent nightmares. Unfortunately this turbulent landlord overheard me having a nightmare and screaming in my sleep and he turned hostile and called me ‘weird’ to his girlfriend, who didn’t live at the house but hung around a lot of the time. This experience knocked my confidence and embedded my fear of indoors even further. I was only sleeping a few hours a night.

As Christmas approached, it was comforting to join in Church activities, we went Carol singing, we had a church video evening where we watched ‘Nativity 2’, and we enjoyed other festive activities. I decorated the Christmas tree in the church room. It was wonderful to have a tree to decorate again after my years on the streets. And this year, church members didn’t start avoiding me in case I expected an invite or trying to send me to ‘community Christmas meals’ as if I was unable to make my own decisions, this had caused me a lot of distress in previous years.

The people from church would often give me a lift home from church, sometimes politely commenting on how ‘nice’ my street was. It wasn’t, they were from nice areas and I had moved from the reasonable area where the lodging house was to the local council and housing association estate, and it wasn’t nice at all.

As well as going to the Evangelical church, I also attended Mass at the local Catholic Church, but this large church wasn’t exactly welcoming, and in true Catholic style, people didn’t really make me welcome as a newcomer, they just watched to see if I could get my lines right, but at least I was getting out and worshipping and spending time with other people.

One day the evangelicals gave me a lift home from an event. One of them came into the house with me, the lady of the couple who had taken me home for Sunday lunch. She was quite deaf, so when my landlord came in, she just nodded and smiled along as he started rambling about his various wives and children and the various fights he had had with them and their partners.

It was what he moved on to talk about that chilled me, but my evangelical friend just kept on nodding along and agreeing with him, and it wasn’t until later that I found out that she hadn’t really heard or understood him.

He talked about the only two previous tenants he had had, both female. He referred to both of these as girls.

He rambled through the story of how both the girls had left. Both very similar, he claimed they didn’t pay rent and tried to leave and he went after them and there was violence. He claimed that one had broken his car windscreen. I was surprised that my friend didn’t seem shocked, just smiled and nodded and later said she hadn’t heard what he had said. But I was uneasy.

When my friend had gone, my landlord went back out to continue repairing a car that he had on the driveway. He was a Mechanic, that he was off work off sick with a leg injury from his employment, but he was repairing cars privately for cash, I overheard him one day voicing his concern to someone on the phone that his employers knew what he was doing claiming sickness benefit while repairing cars privately. By this Point I was becoming quite concerned for my safety in this house.

It was now the week before Christmas. Now I got in a bit of a muddle at church, because after previous years of being shunned during December by people who are afraid that I would expect an invite for Christmas, I ended up with two invites from people at the evangelical church.

Now the evangelical couple who I was closest to, were the second invite and I felt that I had to accept the first invite, which was from the pastor and his wife. The pastoral couple were always very nice to me and it was kind of them to invite me, it was nice to know that I wouldn’t be alone over Christmas.

I’m not good at knowing how to deal with social situations for example where I received two invites one after another, the second being from people who had become friends to me. But I had always been taught to accept the first invitation if I was ever given more than one, thankfully this was part of what I had learnt in the Church of England, when I had been part of the rather affluent and upmarket district in which my first churches were, I had learnt a lot about social niceties there.

So I accepted the invitation from the pastor and his wife and when my new friends invited me I explained to them that the pastor had invited me, they were okay by this because they were close friends of the pastoral couple.

Despite my fears about my accommodation, I was already having a wonderful run up to Christmas with the church fellowship and activities.

Already I was beginning to feel alive and integrated enough to take part in events and to think about charity work, and I met with a local charity and discussed how I could help them. In the weeks before Christmas I ended up standing out on the cold streets with a collecting tin, raising vital funds for the charity. I felt very nervous and very happy. People who were out Christmas shopping were very generous and kind to me.

So Christmas week arrived, and after having very little money I now had enough benefit money through to get to some Christmas and normal groceries and a few decorations from the charity shops for my room.

On Christmas Eve I enjoyed various church festivities and activities, and later in the evening I went to midnight mass. I had warned my landlord that I would be out late and I promised not to make too much noise when I came in however it didn’t matter as he was out getting drunk, he said the Christmas didn’t mean anything to him he didn’t have many decorations in the house, there was no sign it was Christmas in the house apart from in my room where I had my little decorations.

On Christmas morning, I made my way to the evangelical church, although on the way a member of the church of, the treasurer stopped and gave me a lift in his car, he asked me a lot of questions and I told him I’d been to midnight mass that the Catholic church. When we arrived at the evangelical church, the church was crowded, but we had a lively and enjoyable service.

After the service the pastoral couple told me that the treasurer would also be coming to their house for Christmas day. He was a divorcee, and his only son didn’t want to come to him for Christmas. I realised again that I wasn’t the only person with problems and that even someone who lived a fairly normal life could end up lonely and isolated. The treasurer drove me to the pastor’s house after my friends had given me a bundle of gifts that they had wrapped for me.

It is a pity I overheard the treasurer talking about me to the pastor’s wife, but I knew he could be a bit patronizing. He told her scornfully that I had been to midnight mass at the Catholic Church, and he said that I was ‘beginning to open up and talk about myself’. I didn’t like this but I didn’t take it seriously. The evangelicals didn’t do a midnight service so why shouldn’t I go to Mass at the Catholic church?

This Christmas was already the best Christmas for me for a long time although outside it was pouring with rain all day.

At the pastor’s house it was noisy and hot and busy, the pastoral couple had three children, two grown up boys and a 12 year old girl who I knew from church. The pastor’s brother was also there and his parents who I also knew from church.

So with the whole family and me and the treasurer, it was a full and busy house but that’s how Christmas should be and I hadn’t had a proper Christmas for as long as I could remember.

We all sat round on chairs in the living room well we’ve waited for lunch to be ready. It was nice to be there and talk to everyone and I was made very welcome.

We had a very special Christmas dinner in the conservatory as torrential rain fell outside. It is a very nice memory.

During lunch I got a missed call on my phone from the lady at the Charity, she left a message telling me the staggering figure we made from the Street collections. I thought it was a bit strange that she called me on Christmas day to tell me this though.

After lunch we sat in the living room again as the family opened their Christmas presents, and although it was mainly family presents there was at least one present for me and the treasurer and I also have the presence from my new friends to open as well the pastor’s family made quite a fuss over the press and that I got from my friends, it was all very nice. After we had done the presents we’ve played games and had snacks until the evening was drawing on a bit and the rain had eased, so it was time to go home.

There was a lovely Christmas day I will never forget it, I have had many bad Christmases the that one was good, at least Christmas day was. And back at home I could still enjoy Christmas television, although my landlord was angry or drunk and fighting with his exes over the children most of whom he wasn’t allowed to see and who weren’t allowed to visit his house. I should have realized from the fact that he wasn’t allowed to see his children that he wasn’t a safe person.

The problem with low rent accommodation is, it will have problems, and this was almost beyond the understanding of my evangelical friends, just as it is beyond the mature and middle class patrons of most churches.

But just off the streets and unable to claim housing benefit or provide references or in any way get a decent place to live, things were rough and would remain rough.

It is fortunate that the evangelicals were there to rescue me when this accommodation broke down but unfortunate that they didn’t understand the situation there and later on, went round gossiping about it and caused me a lot of problems, but we will get to that later.

Here and now in the Christmas and new year week, the landlord was drunk and hung over and arguing with his various exes and not allowed to see his children at Christmas, and he said this was why Christmas meant nothing to him. He was legally restrained from seeing some of his children due to previous violence. But I was nervous of him and avoided him, and his girlfriend, who lived elsewhere, didn’t like him sharing a house with a female.

So one day I came home and was embarrassed to find that the landlord had sellotaped notices all round the house telling me to leave, he wanted me out before he went away. This was appalling, if you want someone to leave, you tell them and you tell them why, rather than making accusations as he was, he accused me of strange comings and goings, which wasn’t right as I had only gone about my normal routines, church, charity, outreach, and the only times I had been out outside of normal hours was for midnight Mass, which I had pre-warned him about and got his consent and not disturbed him as he was out drinking anyway, and the other time when I had left the house for a while as I was terrified by his violent row with one of his ex-wives.

He was also still making me out to be weird, which was hurtful and more so that he didn’t see his own aggressive and drunk behaviour as weird or frightening to a lone female. No doubt my reaction to his behaviour was seen as weirdness to him.

The thing was, though, it was a relief to be leaving, because I was terrified and felt trapped, this was not a safe place to be. And it was an illegal tenancy that he wasn’t declaring, he was making money out of me and out of private work on cars whilst claiming sick pay from his employers.

The staircase to my room was dangerous and this tenancy would not have been approved by the council.

I was only there a matter of weeks. When the evangelicals heard what had happened, they came round. They wanted me to stay at their house, which was a solution, but of course it was a solution that filled me with dread because of what had happened in my past.

The evangelical lady said she hadn’t heard what this rogue landlord had said to us about the two previous tenants when she had visited before. But I was sure the other two tenants had also been vulnerable and had put up with his unexpected shouting and crazy behaviour and decided to flee or been confronted with silly badly spelled notices sellotaped round the house telling them to leave. The notice was a vague attempt by someone almost illiterate, to make a formal notice

I collected my things together, and the problem with being indoors is, you gain possessions, so it was a car load now, especially with the Christmas stuff. I went back with the evangelicals to their home.

It was New Year’s Eve, and they said they had been sorry not to have me with them on Christmas Day and at least I could now spend New Year with them before looking for a new home.

Of course the whole situation terrified me, it was like a really strong flashback, but as ever, I tried to keep my hopes up.

I had felt the need to try to explain myself to the aggressive landlord, but once I was at the evangelicals’ home, I realised that I needed to do something more important, which was to ensure that this man didn’t go on treating females with contempt or taking in unsuspecting vulnerable women and being aggressive to them.

So I wrote to him, and we went and dropped the letter off. I told him that if I heard of him trying to let the room again, I would report him to the authorities, and that it was an illegal tenancy and that his aggression and his false claim that his dog was aggressive would not look good, nor would the dangerous staircase. I also told him that if he wanted any credibility he would not let the room without a proper agreement and that he learn how to write a proper letter of notice and learn to deal with tenancy issues properly and that his house was not a safe place for a lone female.

That evening as I watched DVDs with the evangelicals as we waited up to see in the New Year, this aggressive landlord sent me a load of drunken messages, apparently he couldn’t find my keys, which I had put through the letter box, and he wouldn’t stop texting, I told him that he was to stop and he would find the keys when he was sober and if he didn’t stop texting I would contact the police and that would jeopardize his various efforts to get access to his various children. I never heard from him again but I was left shocked and stunned on New Year’s Eve of all times and I felt very low and very humiliated to my friends.

However, we saw the New Year in with relative enjoyment. We were watching ‘Song For Marion’ as New Year came in, and in that film the song ‘Lullaby’ by Billy Joel is sung. It was a song I knew but had never had any interest in until then, it was such an emotional scene as it was sung, and it reminded me of love and the good things in life. And in the end it became my theme song for 2014 and the new home I found and the hope and tentative love and more settled life that came with that year.

We saw the new year in quietly and in a hopeful manner, no wild parties or anything special, just sitting there with Big Ben’s chimes and the fireworks, as the evangelicals got texts from their family and replied.

And then it was bed time, only now my insomnia and dread and fear of sleeping indoors had increased so much that I could barely sleep, and it started to be a real problem as time went on.

One of the things that the evangelical lady did that really worried me, was she got me to take painkillers at bed time as she said this would help me to sleep. I know she was a former nurse but this really worried me, painkillers are for pain, not to be mis-used and it didn’t help me sleep, what it did do was cause a flashback to that other evangelical Nurse and English Teacher couple also mis-administering meds to me all those years ago.

That first night in 2014, I only slept a few troubled hours of sleep. Painkillers made nodifference.

The rest of the book is here JJ Coming Home 272 pages, 1MB pdf [17]


[1] 2014 May 9 Cathy Fox Blog Korris Report – Jersey, Child Abuse and the Church. HG’s Story

[2] 2015 Mar 30 Cathy Fox Blog Open Letter to Jan Korris – Jersey Church Abuse of HG

[3] 2017 Oct 22 Letter to Tim Dakin A letter to the Bishop of Winchester regarding his abuse of me and abuse of power in public office 5 pages

[4] 2017 Oct 28 HG Jersey Stepping out of the Circle A guide to the background I came from to end up suffering two decades of church abuse and cover-up. 78 pages

[5] HG My wishes upon my inevitable death in police custody because of Hampshire Constabulary 2 pages

[6] 2018 Feb 15 Reminder/Escalated Formal Complaint Bishop Tim Dakin and Jackie Rowlands 1 page See Appendix 3

[7] 2015 May 5 Steel Investigation Report- General Public and Church Sample 53 pages My own ‘Steel Report’ which I wrote as a parody of the hate attack by Jersey’s States, Deanery and Judiciary through their own judge, Heather Steel

[8] 2017 May 28 HG Review Team The Hill Report Brief Version 89 pages

[9] 2013 Jul 12 Brief Transcript of the Victims Story 16 pages

[10] HG’s books on Lulu

[11] 2014 Jul What really Happened In The Church Blog The Beck and Janner situation – a witness account

[12] What really Happened In The Church Blog HG’s Blog

[13] 2016 Sep 28 I’m being bullied and destroyed by Operation Amberstone

[14] Wikipedia MAPPA archive

[15] 2013 Dec 5 cathy Fox blog  Operation Bullfinch Oxford Child Grooming Report Released

[16] Lulu HG’s books

[17] JJ Coming Home

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