This year I was, once again,
asked to take part in the Sleep Out by the wonderful people at Cathedral Archer
Project, after last year’s attitude changing experience I couldn’t refuse.
I asked for volunteers from among
my work colleagues this year and, to my surprise, not one but four people
stepped forward. As both the one who had
done it before and the oldest I found myself de-facto leader of the little
band, a role I both relished and feared.
Together we began the process of
collecting sponsors and preparing us all for the event. As the day of the event
got closer some of the team began to express some fears and reservations about
the event and what may occur, I tried to allay some of those fears but also wanted
them to know that this was not to be a night in a five star hotel.
This year, for me, was different
to last of course. I knew something of what to expect both from the night
outside and the people we would meet. You could say, some of the initial
shock-value that left such an impression on me last time out. Not so from my
colleagues of course.
As last year, the evening began
with a talk from the project staff who related some of the projects aims and
directions to us along with some stories of those the project had helped.
Rather more statistics followed this year, which sadly only one of which I can
remember with any accuracy (it takes approximately £1000 per day to keep the
project going). There were others around average ages, life expectancy on the
streets and average time spent on the streets, but I don’t want to quote them
here as I can’t guarantee their accuracy (I’m happy to put these in at a later
point if anyone confirms them to me).
Whilst some of these stories and
statistics were shocking and informative, nothing quite prepares you for the
stories told by those who are going, or have recently gone through it.
We then moved outside, picking
our spots outside the cathedral front. I don’t know whether I noticed it more
than last year, but we seemed to get more looks and stares from those using the
tram stop or walking by than last year. Two of my colleagues in a move of
bravery I’m not sure I would have done, simply walked over to the tram
stop and began telling the people what we were doing and why. (I was VERY
impressed).
I was nursing an ankle I had
sprained a couple of week before and as such didn’t move too far this year, not
taking the tour of spots that the homeless sleep in or the tour of the project
itself. I thought as I’d done both last year I would really know it all. I was
wrong and now wish I had gone on both.
As laid on my sleeping bag in the
relatively mild evening I could sense something, a tension in the atmosphere,
something I couldn’t quite out my finger on. I looked around me at the people
gathered near me my fellow sleep-outs were either on the tour, sat chatting or like
me, just sat. I noticed there were markedly more homeless people with us this
year than last.
When my colleagues returned from
the tour of the city centre, I was told of some of the things they have seen
and stories they heard. They had been told of a murder between two homeless
people. A story that had a profound effect on more than one of my colleagues,
was this the source of the tension? I have no idea and probably never will. It
certainly brought home to everyone that life on the streets can carry the
highest peril of all.
Sharing the experience with
people I knew made the night itself considerably easier to bear than last year,
plus meeting someone from last year and being introduced to others made it much
more of a sociable occasion. Something which I contemplated later, you only
seem to see homeless people in ones, on their own, not in groups small or
large. Why is this? I assume there is a reason.
Chatting, playing strange card
games, talking about the issues we were there to raise awareness of passed the
time, but even so, there were times of silent contemplation and boredom.
The boredom is bad, really bad.
As you lay in the artificial orange light on the hard ground, failing to sleep,
you mind runs and races. Every shout from the street, every passer by is carrying
some imagined (or real) threat. Even though I had done it before and come
through unscathed I still felt genuine fear at times, something is a way of
daily life for the homeless.
About 3.00am people started to
bed down and attempt sleep, I manged a few snatches myself. Around 4.00am the
temperature took a very noticeable dive (something I was spared last year). In
my borrowed sleeping bag (thanks Will!) I was warm, but any part of me that
peeked out felt cold, uncomfortably cold and this was nowhere near freezing
point. Another reminder of the harsh reality of life on the streets.
About 5.00am I got out of my bag
and walked around a little, get the blood moving again in my very sore ankle
and perhaps search out a warm drink. Everyone else seemed to be asleep, so I
walked around the cathedral alone for a while, cold, miserable, in pain and
alone. From both Sleep Outs, this was the most I felt the reality of being
homeless. No hot drink, no warm places to go, nothing to stop the pain, no one
to talk to, nothing to do. I was in the middle of one of the foremost cities of
the UK and utterly alone both physically and metaphorically. Of course, a swift
kick to one of my colleagues was have given me someone to talk to (or be sworn
at by) and I was only a matter of few hours from my own bed, to be homeless
means nothing to look forward to but more of the same tomorrow and the next
night and the next ……..
I clambered back in my bag,
wearily and clumsily and laid there, shivering and feeling very sorry for
myself and laid awake, waiting for the breakfast call. Mercifully this was less
than an hour and we were roused and gathered our things together and moved
thankfully into the project for breakfast (bacon and hot tea always tastes
good, but so much more so this morning!).
Certificates presented (and my
name apparently changed to Daniel Beresford!) and some reminders that our
befuddled and bedraggled state was the norm for far too many people and whilst
we were staggering off to a warm house and comfy bed, they would start another
day, that may include an incomprehensible government claim form, talking to a
government employee about their claims and trying hard not to lose their
temper!
As I look back at two Sleep Outs,
it’s good to see the progress. From one colleague (Mollie) starting off (and
sadly unable to be there) in the first instance, to me stepping out on my own
last year, to leading a team of five (my sincere and profound thanks to the amazing
Sean Hawkins, the wonderful Rich Chadwick, the incomparable Jon Pritchard and
the simply awesome Elizabeth Spence) into it this year. From wondering if I’d
scrape £100 in the first year in sponsorship to raising over £1200 this year. I
feel proud. Proud to help in such a small way, proud to have stepped out, proud
to be associated with such a worthy project. But most of all I’m proud of my
work mates for coming with me, for developing their own stories and desires to
make the world a tiny bit better.
I have already had two more
people ask about being involved next year. I will be there and you’re welcome
to join us.
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