Stephen is a St Mungo customer. He was helped by the charity teams while he slept rough. Stephen now has a roof over his head and lives in one of St Mungo's projects. Here he describes how a day was on the streets of London while he was homeless.
Trafalgar Square can be lonely at night. Image: Shutterstock
It is 5pm in May. I'm sitting on the steps of The Connection At St. Martin in Trafalgar Square. I am fortunate enough to have something to eat and wait for darkness so that I can roll out my sleeping bag and fall asleep at the top of the stairs.
In my mind, I think about how to get out of this situation. There are all sorts of people who go to where they need to go, mostly home, to recover from work one day, as I can imagine.
As the hours pass, all I want is for no one to look at me because I'm so embarrassed about what I've become. I think about the really amazing life I've had so far, even though the last few years have not been great.
At some point it is dark and there are not too many people on the way, so I roll out my sleeping bag to make sure that my back is facing everyone who is looking.
Once in the sleeping bag, I struggle to feel comfortable on the stone floor because my hipbone is almost in direct contact with the floor. I cover my face so I do not see anyone and they can not see me. I'm just another homeless person in London.
Finally, I fall asleep through exhaustion.
"I am awakened by someone crying out loud"
Rain is a constant enemy of the homeless in London. Image: Shutterstock
I am awakened later by a gentle female voice (American or Canadian accent). I look up and she has a very compassionate expression and says to me "hello, are you hungry or can I buy you coffee?". Thank you very much, but no thanks. "Are you sure?". I nod and thank her again. My reason for saying no is that I'm ashamed to be in this situation. The young woman then says goodbye.
I'm sleeping again
Sometime later I am awakened by someone screaming loudly. "Help me, help me, help me." At this point, I realize that it's raining heavily and I'm soaking wet from my sleeping bag. The voice comes from an overweight man, about 25 years old. He has bare feet, a T-shirt and shorts. It's about eight degrees at a guess. I'm so sorry for him when he leaves for Trafalgar Square, but I'm unable to help him.
I see people eating and craving food, but not enough money to buy something. Ironically, the food I long for is often cheap.
"The wind is cold, but it also dries my sleeping bag"
Image: Shutterstock
I pack my sleeping bag and things together to find a sheltered place for the night. I can see the entrance of the clerk to the building across the stairs from The Connection at St. Martin's. an organization that helps the homeless.
This entrance is barely covered, but less exposed than me, so I take my luggage and my sleeping bag and walk the short distance. There is a sign saying "Do not block this entrance" at the door, but I'm pretty sure nobody will go or enter at this time of night or morning.
I sit down on the stone gate, spread my wet sleeping bag and pull it over my head. The rain has stopped and it blows a cool wind, which is cold, but also dries my sleeping bag.
"McDonald's is open but I have no money"
Image: Shutterstock
There is a urinal in this street that I have to use, and I am afraid to leave the few belongings that I have, but I go and return and nothing was touched.
Again I sit down exhausted. I'm drinking water from a plastic bottle that I've been refilling for a few weeks. I'm hungry, but even though McDonald's is only a five-minute walk away, I have no money. Again I pull the sleeping bag over my head and wait for the morning. With a new day, things may change and I'll have a happy break.
I sleep in and out until the sound of the people going to work awakens me.
"The saying goes: Nobody in London is hungry, it's true."
Picture: Connection at St. Martin
It's about 7:30 am and I'm in the queue at The Connection and wait until 9:00 am until I enter. I listen to other people in the same situation as I do - everyone has a different story, with many from different countries inside and outside the UK and Europe. Finally, we enter the building where I can take a shower, shave and get tea and toast for free.
There is a nurse for medical problems. We just give our name and wait for our turn, and seek out a professional doctor to check our health. If necessary, we send to a doctor who deals with homeless people.
Since I have not lived in the UK for 30 years, I am not entitled to any form of cash benefit and have to live in the country for three months to prove what is known as an ordinary resident, that is, no money.
I know that there are many places where you can eat for free. The saying goes, "nobody in London is starving," and it's true.
At 13 o'clock we are all on the street again.
"Inside, I know that I'm getting out of this situation, but how?"
The author who no longer lives on the street
I constantly see people talking to themselves. At first I thought it was Bluetooth technology and sometimes, but I find it quite disturbing how many people do this.
I go to a place nearby and stand in line to get food. It reminds me of photos of the Great Depression, where people did the same just to eat. The people who spend this food deserve recognition - without them, I could starve to death.
I walk down to Trafalgar Square, where street artists make music or make chalk drawings on the floor. Many of them are homeless people trying to earn some money.
I am in a state of existence, I could not really call it alive, though I am better off than some in a country where there is no war and no famine.
Inside, I know that I'm getting out of this situation, but how?
I go to St. James's Park, sit down with my physical and emotional luggage, and look around for all the people enjoying their day. I do not sit in one place, I move on because I feel out of place no matter where I'm sitting.
Finally, I go back to the steps at St. Martin's and wait for the night again so I can sleep. I'm cold and depressed, but I'm not hungry.
Find out more about St Mungo's and Connection at St Martin's.
