Looking for Andrew (Journal 11)
By Canonette
- 730 reads
As I waited outside the church for the soup kitchen to open, I chatted with the two homeless men loitering outside. At a glance, you probably wouldn't know they were homeless. For me it's the rucksacks which provide the first clue; men don't tend to carry all of their possessions around with them. I always look like a bag lady, as I have a strange phobia of being bored, so I carry books, knitting and sewng with me at all times, but men seem to manage with what's in their pockets.
They were both very clean and nicely dressed in shorts and t-shirts. You wouldn't know you were homeless, I said to the friendlier one. The other man hung back and didn't want to engage with us, although I'd already spoken to him and given him a choice of t-shirts from the bag of secondhand clothes I was carrying. The friendly man in flip-flops was obviously newly homeless; he didn't know any of the local soup kitchens and was there to meet with Nina, the outreach worker. I listed off all the places I could remember that give out sandwiches and hot meals. Ask Nina, she's bound to have an information sheet, I said.
"I'm hoping to have a shave," flip-flop man replied, rubbing his chin.
I asked him where he was staying, assuming he would say a hostel, but he's sleeping rough.
"I don't like being out on the street," he said, not because of the dangers, but because he felt self-conscious about it. He hadn't yet succumbed to begging. Fortunately, there's been a heatwave lately, as he didn't have a sleeping bag.
They give them out at Crescent Road Car Park, I told him and his eyes lit up. "What time does Crescent Road give out food?" I asked the other man.
I hoped to engage him in conversation, as I thought he might have some information to help flip-flop man. This led to a talk about homeless people stealing from each other. I said about Andrew always losing his sleeping bags, or getting them nicked. You have to be canny about hiding your stuff, the quieter man told me. They both thought it wasn't on to steal bedding from a fellow homeless man. "We're all in the same boat and should stick together," they said, when I suggested that desperation might lead you to take someone else's stuff.
It seems I'm more morally flexible than either of them, even though it transpired that the quiet one had just come out of prison. "My landlady let my flat to someone else, while I was inside." Being friends with Andrew has led me to examine my own nature and I realise that I would rather steal than beg, because it would feel less like being a victim. Hopefully we won't have to put this to the test.
I wasn't expecting to see Andrew, as the walk to the church is too much for him, but I had a big bag of warm socks I'd collected from people at work, so I thought I'd distribute them around the places homeless people go in town. There are so many bags of clothes under my desk, that it looks like I'm about to set up a jumble sale. I have t-shirts, jeans, dozens of pairs of socks and even longjohns and a balaclava, all donated by work colleagues for people sleeping rough.
I've kept back the 'large' sized things for Andrew at his request and I'm saving them for when he moves into the hostel. Listed in order of Andrew's preference, the hostel has the following:
Your own room, a pool table, a tv lounge, a kitchen with a kettle, one hot meal a day, a wardrobe for your clothes.
I've been invited for a cup of tea when he moves in - which I'm hoping will be soon, as he's currently on the streets again and looks like an extra from the Living Dead. He's having even more trouble walking than usual, as his habit of stepping straight into traffic, like Moses about to part the Red Sea, has led to him having his foot run over.
"It's broken," he tells me and I ask if he can wiggle his toes. He can, so I don't think it is.
As usual, Andrew has all of his priorities in the wrong order and is hoping to buy a car from his mate. He tells me it's blue and that his friend bought it for his missus, who doesn't like it. "She thinks it's boy racist." If Andrew had a drivers' licence, this purchase would make more sense, but he only has a provisional motorbike licence (or did once upon a time and has now lost it). I suppose he could live in the car if the hostel falls through.
I hand Andrew two hot bacon and cheese slices from Sainsburys and he gazes at them adoringly.
"Find a man who looks at you, like Andrew looks at bacon and cheese turnovers," I say.
"They're gorgeous. Will you do me a favour?" he asks.
"Not if it involves money."
"No, will you look out for a coffee table for me on Freecycle. Preferably a glass topped one. I want it for my new room."
I add it to the mental list of things I have to find for Andrew. It makes a change from wheeled suitcases.
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Comments
I think it's good that you
I think it's good that you haven't lost your sense of humour in this situation.
Jenny.
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Interesting insight
I like the way this conveys the plight of homeless people without preaching or trotting out what we expect to read. Good piece.
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Sp pleased to see another
Sp pleased to see another piece in this excellent series - and on a more personal note, I am very glad you're both still alive and ok!
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Please share/retweet if you enjoyed it as much as I did.
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stilll following this story.
stilll following this story. great to see more, not because there are more homeless folk, but because your caring is practical and there for the grace of god and all that.
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