Looking at the other side

Having been on the streets now for quite a few months I would never have believed where my mind is today.

I started rough sleeping at the lowest point in my life. Anyone suffering or has suffered from depression will know where your mind takes you, if you have never had depression I sincerely hope you never do.

My own mind is what put me on the streets, guilt, fear and a huge amount of anger set me on a path of self destruction. I could have taken some kind of professional help and worked my way out of the financial situation I was in but I chose to walk away. Anyway enough of that talk this post is about a more positive time.

During the summer I have slept in lush green fields, park benches, graveyards and on sandy beaches. As you lay there looking up at moonlit skies watching shooting stars and aircraft lights soar overhead everything is so peaceful, in the right location you also feel safe. Daytime comes around and depending on the month there are cherries, blackberries, apples and pears to feast on, I’m no Ray Mears but I can spot a good fruit tree a mile off.

As the summer came to a end food and finances were non existent. I went several days without eating, walking the streets of the North East.

Eventually I stumbled upon Sanctuary 21, A kind of day centre run by the Salvation Army. They gave me good hot soup, a toasted sandwich and as much coffee as I could drink. I’ve been in a couple of prestigious restaurants in my time but nothing has tasted as good as that meal. I’m a regular there now and I have to say that between the people that run it and the volunteer University students you will struggle to find such good people.

I also found a group of people that are in Drug/alcohol recovery that do a full English breakfast every Friday for rough sleepers and others that may need it. Again all free and run by volunteers. Yet more good people!

I am, and always will be grateful to groups and organisations like this that are mainly run by volunteers. However it’s the small surprises that can bring a lump to your throat.

One night I had bedded down in my regular church yard and the gate opened. Naturally you think the worst, am I going to get a kicking or even robbed of the nothing that I have? I looked over the top of my sleeping bag to see a young lad with his sister and Mum holding a pizza. He handed it to me saying “It was two for one at the pizza shop and there is only 3 of us” proper choke up moment.

Same place, different night. A husband and wife came up to us and he hands us a £20 note and simply said “Don’t care what you spend it on just as long as it makes you happy”

A Sunday afternoon, I’m stood using the free WiFi outside a bank in the city and start chatting with a police officer, He asks what I do for a living and I explain I’m a rough sleeper. After a while he says “Stay there I’ll be back in a moment”, when he returns he hands me a coffee and a cake.

Recently a young couple pulled up after being out for the night and gave us some bags of crisps saying “I’m really sorry, it’s all we have”. Now it wasn’t what was given, it was the fact she was sorry that they didn’t have more to give.

I’ve had fellow rough sleeper’s hand me their last cigarette. The guy I crash with on a night time has always made sure I had food, a hot drink and maintained my filthy habit of smoking.

I started using Twitter and this Blog as sort of a self reflection therapy, and to a good degree it has worked. I’m absolutely amazed at the offers of gifts and assistance that strangers somewhere in the Twittersphere have offered me. People that have no idea who I am.

In the deep dark mine that is sleeping rough I can honestly say I’ve discovered some real diamonds.

Has the experience of living like this enriched me? Massively!

Would I swap Rough Sleeping for a comfortable, warm bed and a locked door?  Damn right I would!

I never realised but this is longest blog I’ve wrote so far, It’s quite humbling that it is about the kindness of others.

Thanks for reading guy’s

Phil

A room with a view or a room where we are viewed

As I’ve mentioned Mr S. and myself in previous blogs I’m guessing you have a rough picture of us now. If not then please read earlier blogs so you have will have some background on Mr S.

Last Thursday I didn’t sleep in my usual area with Mr S. because my head decided I needed some alone time. Boy do I regret that now, massive guilt trip!

Mr S, a seventy year old man was attacked by four lads and all for about half a dozen cigarettes. He received quite heavy bruising to his forearms and ribs plus he had half a house brick thrown at him that fortunately missed.

Following that, naturally he didn’t want to remain in our usual bedding down spot. So the hunt was on for a new Des-res.

Good news is we found a roof with three walls and to add a bit of luxury it even has a wooden bench that we can both fit on. No more sleeping on cold cement floors YAY!!

It’s an old style brick built disused bus shelter, not like those new modern plastic things with a six inch gap at the bottom and angled micro bum rest that they try to pass off as a seat. Ours was built by craftsmen or women to be p.c.

It does however have one minor drawback, it’s right on a busy junction that’s controlled by traffic lights.  Every time the lights are at red we have ourselves an audience. From nice warm cars to full service buses we are their brief entertainment. Everyone has to have a look and nudge the person beside them because as we all know, rough sleepers are such a rare sight these days.

Despite the fact that we are a bit of a local spectacle, we are happy that we found somewhere that is far enough away from the city centre and should have less chance of any trouble.

And so I lay me down to sleep

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I’ve got to be honest, I don’t know any rough sleepers that get a full night’s rest. As you get into your sleeping bag at night you have all the usual noise of the city, cars, sirens, alarms and of course people walking by.

Of all of these it’s people that are the biggest concern. So far I’ve had a minor kicking, my bag taken from me, someone trying to urinate on me (fortunately missed). I’ve had a bottle of beer tipped onto my sleeping bag, while he shouted “Have a drink on me” and a couple of his mates laughing, then the bottle thrown at the wall and glass scattering all over my bag and the ground around us.

Every time you hear footsteps you expect trouble. Then when you don’t hear anything you’re thinking is someone going to try and steal your stuff?

In almost every case when you do find somewhere to sleep you have to be awake early and pack you belongings away. Then it’s either a case of carrying them around all day or taking the risk of hiding them. If you hide them, then you are constantly thinking during the day if they will still be there when you get back at night? or has it been discovered and some idiot has wrecked them just for the sake of it?

When you get back, and your stuff is still there, you can guarantee at this time of year the insects, bugs or mice and rats have found them more comfortable than you do.

If you are lucky on a night then you might have found some insulation to go between the ground and your bag, wood or cardboard usually. If not, then it’s the cement!

In the early hours of the morning you feel the cold working it’s way up from beneath you, the icy frost from above and you can be assured no matter what position you sleep in that damn ice cold metal zip fastener will manage to touch your face.

During the winter months the things you sleep in are never dry!

My right hand man

I sleep at the back of a church or if the weather is bad in it’s gateway. I share the area with another guy we shall call Mr S. He is almost 70 and has been on the streets for over twenty years.

Mr S. is completely institutionalised to this lifestyle. Years ago he accepted a place in a homeless shelter was robbed and took a bit of a kicking.v Since then he refuses to have anything to do with the outreach teams.

He walks through town each day pulling two cabin size trolley suitcases with his entire possessions in. Like most rough sleepers he wears the clothes that he slept in last night. With nothing but a thin sleeping bag, he sleeps on the concrete floor regardless of what the elements throw at him. The image above shows you were we sleep, two walls either side, a waist high gate and nothing at the other side. This is also a handy short cut for people passing through from the pub at one side to the road behind the church. We are a pavements width from a busy road with traffic passing all night.

Each morning Mr S. walks into town, and after his morning coffee makes his way to the public toilets at the other end of town up a very steep hill. He then boards a bus, (thankfully he has a free pensioners bus pass.) and spends most of the day travelling to keep himself warm and away from other rough sleepers with dependencies that will take advantage of his good nature.

Mr S. drinks tea during the day, a lot of tea! always collecting his loyalty cards. Each morning as he walks through town he passes the loyalty cards on to other rough sleepers he sees so they can get a warm drink. To people that are familiar to him he’s quite generous with his cigarettes too.

During the day Mr S. is seen talking to himself while either sat on the bus or in shop doorways. This gets him a lot of attention, the wrong attention!. He’s not blind or deaf and all these looks and comments chip away at his dignity, should he have any left.

On a night he talks about family that have long gone and his two passions, classical music and the great painters. He tells me what they painted, when and where they were painted and the year they died.

I have tried to encourage him to come to the library with me so he can listen to music on the computers but two years ago he fell asleep in there and a senior member of staff kicked him out and publicly humiliated him calling him a tramp.

I have no idea what put Mr S. on the streets, although I’m sure that during his time as a rough sleeper societies attitude to him will keep him there till he either dies or ends up in hospital.

Almost every night his last words as he looks across the graveyard are “At least the dead don’t feel the cold!”

Without a doubt Mr S. has a kind heart and I’m proud to call him my friend.

Cheers Phil.

Lets start at the beginning

First off allow me to apologise for all spelling and grammar errors, I am far from professional at this. My education was very basic and many years ago.

What you shall read will probably be something along the lines of Diary, Blog and a bit of self therapy.

Who I am and where I was.

Hi, I’m just going to stick on a first name basis and mine is Phil.

I’m in my mid 50’s and a couple of years ago I drove a decent car, lived in a nice riverside apartment and went to the gym most days. I had two small businesses that kept my head above water but would never make me a rich man.

One day after a personal loss and spiralling debts something went click in my head and I sank into a very deep depression(maybe more on this another time). I had a couple of very dark episodes then one day I just had to escape. I walked out of my place with £300 cash and got on a train. I ended up in Newcastle walking the streets and eventually, without realising how far i’d travelled arrived on the coast just North of Whitley Bay.

I booked into a budget hotel with the hope of relaxing and clearing my mind. A few days later funds were low and i had to check out. I made my way to the train station with the intention of going home, knowing that debt and a solitary time lay ahead depression hit me again and I found myself unable to board it.

I spent about 6 days walking and sleeping on benches in parks and cemeteries, fortunately it was summer and a good one it was too. Food was usually the cheapest biscuits I could find and fruit from trees and bushes, cherries, apples and black berries.

Like all blokes my age I grew up in a era where we had to “Man up and deal with it”(it’s a pathetic and dangerous quote leading to too many men not asking for help), so I found a way back home. Within two weeks the darkness in my mind had returned, worse than ever!.

Once again I walked away, I headed north and began sleeping rough again. The apartment and car that I couldn’t afford have gone, bailiff’s have claimed my possessions and I’m left with nothing of value.

Sleeping rough on the streets of the North East as mad as it may sound to you, is giving my mind some peace from a world I felt trapped in. There are other issues, but for now that’s really as much as I want to share.

Now that I have introduced myself to you and given you a bit of background on how I ended up on the streets I will be using this Blog to highlight homelessness, share things I’ve learnt, services that are available and possibly small things everyone can do to make life a little easier for those on the streets.

I’m doing this pretty much as self therapy, I’m not part of any organisation or receiving any kind of financial reward or assistance(otherwise they’d have found someone that knows what they are doing).

You can contact me on here or Twitter { @HomelessNorth

Thanks for reading (if anyone does)

Phil.