Still I can point to one or two things I have definitely learned by being hard up. I shall never again think that all tramps are drunken scoundrels, nor expect a beggar to be grateful when I give him a penny, nor be surprised if men out of work lack energy, nor subscribe to the Salvation Army, nor pawn my clothes, nor refuse a handbill, nor enjoy a meal at a smart restaurant. That is a beginning.

[George Orwell, Down and Out in Paris and London].

Oh dear, Winston Churchill’s grandson didn’t do too well on BBC’s Famous and Homeless last night. But the thing is that there’s not much difference between me and Churchill Jnr.
I live in the UK’s largest city and I see homelessness every day outside cash points, tube stations, shop doorways and parks. I hunch my shoulders, look at the floor and ignore them. I say ‘no’ immediately or I’ll smile nervously if it is one of those tramps that crack a joke. Sadly, s/he will have probably cracked the same joke and asked the same thing 100 times in that one day. More ridiculous and awful than this is that I live next door to a homeless shelter. Next door to me is the Matthew Community, home of the homeless - where people come 24 hours a day for food, a shower and maybe if they’re lucky a bed for the night. When I first moved in next door I was full of interest and excitement. ‘Wow’ I thought, I’ll get see homelessness first hand and be a true middle class renegade! That’s exactly my first thoughts – about myself – I thought it’d be an excellent chance to show to myself and others how wonderfully opened minded I am. What a richer person will become! Within a week I was sick of the old Irish girl Christine who sits on the stairs smoking cigarettes all day. ‘I’m 86 you know, on the streets for 40 of them and an alcoholic for 20 0f them’. She repeats this on a daily basis. Now after one year it is: ‘alright Dave, how-are-ya?... I reply: yes I’m fine Christine, how are you?’ as I quickly open the door and shut out the shitness that is neighbour. So my dream of sitting on the steps talking to the Matthew Community’s clientele about life and love faded pretty fast. As soon a flatmates bike was stolen my initial reaction was that it must be one of those bastard drunks next door. Of course it was one of them! They need bicycles on the streets! Tramps on bikes! No, I thought, probably sold it to get a hit of heroine because all tramps are heroine addicts!

Months passed and I bought Orwell’s Down and Out in Paris in London. How noble of me! How clever I am?! I will read some Orwell – that’ll make me see things clearer. Somehow my poor behaviour got into my conscious, my how-are-ya’s with Christine were getting blunter. I wanted to scream ‘shut up you old bint!’ Stop smoking all those cigarettes and sod off!. So, Orwell it was and brilliance is what I got. I snapped it up and thought long and hard about Orwell’s brilliant descriptions and feelings of the homeless. A lot of the book talks about poverty and homelessness but a large part of it is about humanity the goodness of man. But the sad truth is it didn’t change me too much. I still give my mundane ‘I’m fine’ to Christine. I still think ‘lazy buggers’ about the queues of people at the steps when I step out to unlock my bike. My point in all of this is that we (as relatively wealthy people) want to do something – we genuinely don’t want people on the streets begging and living in piss and shit but the truth is its ridiculously hard to change one’s mindset to Jesus-mode. I can read my books and have conversations with friends about equality, poverty, the class system et al. But the reality is that it’s about changing the mindset.

I am desperately, desperately trying to change my attitude with all this. Last week I invited who I thought, was one of the ‘workers’ from the Matthew Community in for a meal and a drink. It turned out that Sergio was not a worker – he was homeless – there are no ‘workers’ just volunteers in the Community. I felt bad and then it hit me. All the fancy talks I have with friends and loved ones about equality and fairness are just balls. I live in an ivory tower. (‘Oh society must do this and that’ there needs to be sea change here and there…’) because next door are living in a much equal conditions - more so than the one I always rant about. There’s no moral ending here except that the BBC are right to talk about homelessness… it’s a profound and difficult subject..