I joined the other sailing club to get more dinghy sailing and training and more social activities.
They had an open day one day and were selling off the old club dinghys.
They were very kind to me as I viewed the dinghys and picked out one for me in reasonably good shape, they sold this to me for £50, and so I was a boat owner.
I was very proud of this little boat, and I got a place on the boat park for it, on it’s little trailer.
Although someone tried to shove it out of it’s place and park their boat there soon after, even though I had been given that space, club members helped to sort that out, and I started work on getting the boat into better shape.
The boat was a Topper, a white and blue one, and it’s faded name read ‘Crazy’, which made my friends laugh, so I changed it’s name.
I contacted the Topper Sailing association and got a signed book and a new mainsheet and other bits for the boat, which I slowly and carefully fitted, and I learned how to put the mast up and rig the boat where it stood on dry land.
I felt I had made a lot of progress as a result of owning my boat, just as I made progress with driving when I got my own car, see my earlier post about the car.
I had done my dinghy sailing levels one and two, but level three was more elusive, both in training costs and assessment, so I started to train when I could with one of the Pico’s that I had often borrowed for solo sail practice.
I saw the Clipper Bursary advertised, and it was for anyone who wanted to further their sailing experience and qualifications.
So I applied.
I didn’t win the main sailing award but won an extra award that they offered especially for me. I was stunned!
The award they offered was to help me gain my level three and I was very happy about it.
I suppose I had better explain that this happened during the grim death time, 2010, when, despite my stay at Maytree (suicide prevention centre, self-referral), I was going downhill, and the Diocese were still harming me and not dealing with my complaint.
Anyway, I went to meet the man who was offering the award, and he took some photos of me with my dinghy, he said that a condition of the award was that I was likely to be interviewed by the press, he said the photos would probably be in the JEP, and because of the church situation, which I explained without naming names, he said that my name would be omitted. But I was terrified because I knew the haters would react to me being in the press.
The reaction I knew about turned out to be Jane Fisher, she and I were on ‘speaking’ terms, although she was still hurting me and denying my complaints, this was 2010, we were on speaking terms because tracy wanted that, and Jane Fisher’s interference was trashing my friendship with Tracy and her church.
Anyway, Jane Fisher, I remember, kept on texting me and asking why I was to be interviewed by the press, she was so obviously only interested in the Church’s reputation, it was ludicrous.
I was in the JEP, but I delighted in ignoring BBC Jersey when they asked for an interview, after all, they had treated me appallingly and caused me a breakdown, a severe one.
Although at the same time I did contact them about joining the Springwatch beach clear up, which I very much enjoyed taking part in.
Anyway, so I was doing my level three dinghy practice but was quite unwell, and things came to a head one day when the boat capsized and I couldn’t right the boat or swim any more, I was exhausted, it is very possible that the full blown asthma had developed by then, because I couldn’t breathe properly, and I had to be rescued.
That was my last sail. That was the end of my dreams.
We were rapidly approaching the end by then.
My boat was moved to the garden of a Jersey clergyman, ‘for storage’, and while on the run in England when Jane Fisher and Tracy tried to have me sectioned and failed, my car irreparably broke down because I had had to use the repair money on the ferry ticket and looking after myself in England, and because the sheets, sails and steering mechanism for the boat were in the car, they had to be abandoned in England.
Then I lost my life and my home, my boat was left in that CoFE clergyman’s garden and the rest of the gear was left in the UK.
I lost my boat and my training and so much I had worked for and paid for, but did the Diocese care, no, when I arrived homeless in England they set about wrecking my life more than I could ever recover from, my losses already meant nothing to them compared to covering up for their wrongdoings, and they told me it was my fault, while I was homeless in Winchester, Bishop Scott-Joynt said so, from his palace, where he had refused to ever deal with any complaint from me.