Martyn Stanley's Blog - Posts Tagged "homeless"
Helping the Homeless
I don't get into town much these days. I spend most of my time in the quiet village I call home. Last night though I was in Newcastle-under-Lyme town centre to take my daughter to a LaserQuest birthday party.
The effects of online shopping, brexit and years of Tory austerity were very starkly on show. The high-street appears to be dying. It's not that so many shops were shut, but that so many had shut down.
Britain is in a mess at the moment, our society as divided as our shambolic political establishment. We're a nation made up of individualists desperate to be closer to America and collectivists, desperate to be more integrated into Europe.
While I was walking to meet my wife and kids at McDonalds, I saw a rough-sleeper sitting in a shop doorway, her hands black with grime, covered by a ragged old blanket, barely thicker than a piece of paper.
I'll be honest, I feel uncomfortable when confronted with rough-sleepers and beggars. It's far easier to look the other. There are some things we don't want to see. Some truths we don't want to accept. I suppose I don't like being stared at and I expect most people feel the same way. However, I did look.
Maybe because I had my family with me, maybe because I'm so despairing at the state of the UK at the moment... I don't know why. But I didn't just see a scary homeless person. She was about 19 to 23. She wasn't begging. I didn't just see a scary homeless person. I saw someone's little girl, forced to sleep on the street. I saw someone who society had let down. I thought of the Footballers, F1 Drivers and Hedge Fund managers, splashing out millions on private jets and yachts. It's sick that we live in a society with such division, where some people, mainly by the privilege of birthright have access to anything in the world they want, while others don't even have access to a meal or a roof over the head.
Hoping not to offend, I approached her, asked if she was okay and asked if she wanted something to eat and drink. The look on her face as I approached was haunting. It wasn't relief, it was a mixture of bemusement and fear. I don't think most people who approach rough-sleepers are kind. When she realised I was simply offering food, a look of shear relief came over her face and she responded politely, almost humbly. 'Oh yes, please, if you don't mind. Thank you.'
I asked what she'd like and offered to get her some McDonalds. I asked if she'd prefer a hot drink and she asked for a Hot Chocolate.
After ordering her a double-cheeseburger, medium fries and a hot chocolate I took them out to her. She seemed genuinely surprised and appreciative. I think she thought it was a wind up and that'd I'd disappear. I offered to contact a rough-sleeper charity to see if they could get someone to come out to her. At that she said they were trying to find a bed for her in a hostel and that someone would be coming around in the morning with a cup of tea.
At that I wished her luck and said goodbye. Still feeling a little uneasy. Not because I feared that I'd been scammed, in that she wasn't really sleeping rough or was a junkie who created the situation she was in herself, but because I didn't think I'd really done enough. I provided one rough-sleeper with a hot meal and a hot drink. It cost me £4.07 which is almost nothing. Would she have gotten something to eat if I hadn't? I don't know. Was she a junkie? I couldn't say either way, but I don't think it matters. Our society created the drugs problem. For the record I don't think she was. She sounded intelligent, polite and if anything a little timid. Maybe the getting dirty and huddling under a blanket in a shop doorway WAS an act. If it was it was a good one, I wouldn't be prepared to spend my evenings on the street for a cheap McDonalds meal and some loose change.
I wasn't left with a heroic sense of 'not all heroes wear capes'. It was nothing, and in that it wasn't enough. It's worse in Manchester. You'd find it harder to stop and help someone in Manchester, because there are so many on the run up to the train station that you'd feel uncomfortable helping one without helping the others. Plus I suspect some of the Manchester beggars ARE fake beggars.
I didn't know where I was going with this post. I suppose I just feel sad that we live in such a shitty society where some people are sitting on billions of pounds, while others can't afford a packet of crisps.
Martyn Stanley
The effects of online shopping, brexit and years of Tory austerity were very starkly on show. The high-street appears to be dying. It's not that so many shops were shut, but that so many had shut down.
Britain is in a mess at the moment, our society as divided as our shambolic political establishment. We're a nation made up of individualists desperate to be closer to America and collectivists, desperate to be more integrated into Europe.
While I was walking to meet my wife and kids at McDonalds, I saw a rough-sleeper sitting in a shop doorway, her hands black with grime, covered by a ragged old blanket, barely thicker than a piece of paper.
I'll be honest, I feel uncomfortable when confronted with rough-sleepers and beggars. It's far easier to look the other. There are some things we don't want to see. Some truths we don't want to accept. I suppose I don't like being stared at and I expect most people feel the same way. However, I did look.
Maybe because I had my family with me, maybe because I'm so despairing at the state of the UK at the moment... I don't know why. But I didn't just see a scary homeless person. She was about 19 to 23. She wasn't begging. I didn't just see a scary homeless person. I saw someone's little girl, forced to sleep on the street. I saw someone who society had let down. I thought of the Footballers, F1 Drivers and Hedge Fund managers, splashing out millions on private jets and yachts. It's sick that we live in a society with such division, where some people, mainly by the privilege of birthright have access to anything in the world they want, while others don't even have access to a meal or a roof over the head.
Hoping not to offend, I approached her, asked if she was okay and asked if she wanted something to eat and drink. The look on her face as I approached was haunting. It wasn't relief, it was a mixture of bemusement and fear. I don't think most people who approach rough-sleepers are kind. When she realised I was simply offering food, a look of shear relief came over her face and she responded politely, almost humbly. 'Oh yes, please, if you don't mind. Thank you.'
I asked what she'd like and offered to get her some McDonalds. I asked if she'd prefer a hot drink and she asked for a Hot Chocolate.
After ordering her a double-cheeseburger, medium fries and a hot chocolate I took them out to her. She seemed genuinely surprised and appreciative. I think she thought it was a wind up and that'd I'd disappear. I offered to contact a rough-sleeper charity to see if they could get someone to come out to her. At that she said they were trying to find a bed for her in a hostel and that someone would be coming around in the morning with a cup of tea.
At that I wished her luck and said goodbye. Still feeling a little uneasy. Not because I feared that I'd been scammed, in that she wasn't really sleeping rough or was a junkie who created the situation she was in herself, but because I didn't think I'd really done enough. I provided one rough-sleeper with a hot meal and a hot drink. It cost me £4.07 which is almost nothing. Would she have gotten something to eat if I hadn't? I don't know. Was she a junkie? I couldn't say either way, but I don't think it matters. Our society created the drugs problem. For the record I don't think she was. She sounded intelligent, polite and if anything a little timid. Maybe the getting dirty and huddling under a blanket in a shop doorway WAS an act. If it was it was a good one, I wouldn't be prepared to spend my evenings on the street for a cheap McDonalds meal and some loose change.
I wasn't left with a heroic sense of 'not all heroes wear capes'. It was nothing, and in that it wasn't enough. It's worse in Manchester. You'd find it harder to stop and help someone in Manchester, because there are so many on the run up to the train station that you'd feel uncomfortable helping one without helping the others. Plus I suspect some of the Manchester beggars ARE fake beggars.
I didn't know where I was going with this post. I suppose I just feel sad that we live in such a shitty society where some people are sitting on billions of pounds, while others can't afford a packet of crisps.
Martyn Stanley
