Searching through Filth for the Homeless and Feeling the Fear.

I don’t think I’ve ever told my family this but I once spent a night in a London park after yet another almighty fight with my (ex) husband. The choice was to either stay in our flat and endure his rage or pack a bag and leg it.

My choice of bench was in the playground of Primrose Hill park, where Jude Law and Sadie Frost often took their kids. I didn’t choose it because it was posh, it was just the nearest. It was October and cold but dry and I had a pillow and massive duvet so I didn’t feel the nip in the air. I also had an alarm clock and a clean set of clothes so I could go to work at the publisher’s in the morning and get washed and ready there.

This doesn’t count as sleeping rough. There was nothing rough about it. I was warm and I had somewhere to go the next day.

Last week, Zoe (my 13yr old) and I made a batch of lentil and vegetable soup from my friend Geraldine’s Retro Cookbook (more on this in a future post) and set off to join a group of young people who have got together to go out and help the homeless in Burnley. Here’s a crap picture of me with Wesley who is the main man. He’s a cheeky, wily, smiley rogue who has chased every councillor, talked to every charity and badgered every MP to find out why there are still people sleeping on the streets. He was on the streets himself from a tender 15 years and knows what it’s like.

What I’m going to do now is give you an honest account of how I felt before I went out last Wednesday in search of homeless people to feed.

1) I worried that the group helping would be a bunch of nutters who were just looking for something to get angry about. I didn’t want to join a group who could just as easily be going out hunting paedophiles. They weren’t nutters, they just wanted to help.

2) I worried that the homeless people would think I was trying to poison them so I thought I’d wear my chef’s jacket to convince them that my soup was edible. Then I worried that everyone would think I was wearing my jacket for self promotion and publicity. No-one even noticed.

3) I was taking a camping stove so I could heat the soup up from the boot of my car. I worried that the homeless may rob everything from the front of my car while I was at the back. They didn’t .

We found two brothers sleeping on the streets. They were at opposite ends of the town hidden away in the darkest and filthiest (ie safest) of spots. One brother was already sleeping like a baby. At first I thought he was dead and wondered how my 13 year old daughter would cope with this. I realised with great pride that she has not led such a protected life that she would be hysterical or damaged for life. She knows the score, she would be upset, she would be angry but she wouldn’t be broken.

The other brother was scared when we discovered his hiding place but soon realised we were only there to help. He’d had his sleeping bag stolen the night before ((this seems to happen a lot) so was grateful for a replacement, a warm jacket, a hat and some food. “Have you seen my brother?” he asked and I felt a stab of sadness that these boys were both homeless. What had happened? Where was their mum?

What would we have done if the boys had been 15 instead of what? 25? Would we have left them there? I hope not.

I went home later to my centrally heated house, ate my roast lamb dinner, drank my red wine and slipped into my comfy bed with my hot water bottle. And thought, “I’m alright. I’m not crying, I’m becoming hard.” Two years ago when I began supporting the nurture group at Barrowford School I would be in floods of tears every time I got a thank-you card saying, ‘Thanks for the cereal and biscuits.’

The next morning I had to go to the Foodbank to talk to the lovely manager, Suzanne about my food project. It was raining when I arrived and as I walked in I thought, “Those boys are going to wake up with their sleeping bags and their clothes wet through.”

Poor Suzanne had to endure my blubbing for the next 40 minutes. You see it’s fine spending one night out in the cold and dry but spending one night in the cold and rain, knowing that your sleeping bag and clothes will still be wet the next night – that’s sleeping rough.

There’s a directive called No Second Night Out which Burnley, our local council included in its ‘Gold Standard’ policy (2013-2018). It should mean that if anyone is identified as sleeping on the streets for one night then the council will make sure they are housed the next day.

Thanks to people like Wesley (and Liam and Georgia who kicked off the idea) the council now has a group of people who are willing to go out and identify the people who need help. And God help Burnley Council if they don’t live up to their ideals because that cheeky, wily, smile rogue Wesley will have ’em.

Post Script

When I came home on Wednesday night and emptied my car I found this . . .

Somehow I had managed to come home with a fluffy warm jacket, a hand knitted hat (some kind soul had knitted dozens of hats) Mug Shots and biscuits. I basically went out stealing from the homeless. God knows how this stuff ended up in my car but it’s not the first time I’ve stolen from the needy.

There was an incident in Morrison’s last year when two little girls were doing the family shop on their own. They were struggling to hang the bags full of budget beans and soup on their scooters and I couldn’t see how they would ever manage to carry everything. I told them they could trust me, they could check with the staff as to who I was, then I tried to take their shopping bags off them. I intended driving their shopping home and meeting them there but they were having none if it. I eventually gave up and said goodbye.

As I went through the revolving door the girls ran after me shouting that I’d stolen their shopping. I had no idea I was still holding their carriers.

Ged-the-husband says that when I die my headstone should be inscribed with, ‘She meant well.’ because in spite of my good intentions I have been known to make a bad situation worse.

I shall be returning the stolen goods to the homeless this Wednesday.