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Afterthoughts 3

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14 nights but I still don’t know what homelessness is like for women During my fortnight on the streets, several women said to me that if they were to sleep rough there would be, as one woman put it, “an extra layer of vulnerability”. I realised I hadn’t ever considered the risk of a sexual attack. I’ve known men who have been sexually abused whilst rough sleeping, but they seem isolated incidents. I never considered it could happen to me. Women seemed to consider it automatically.  I am uncomfortable writing this blog. A 57-year-old man sharing insights into being female and homeless? The reality is that I’m admitting my ignorance. After 17 years I thought I knew the issues of female homelessness. I probably do but I now realise how little I understand them. I remember an incident of a woman who was nineteen. She came to the project seeking help. Her boyfriend had been arrested. She was alone and said, in the space of an afternoon, three men had offered to ‘protect’ her. S
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Afterthoughts 2

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And what if I was really homeless? On Saturday I had my covid vaccine booster. On Sunday I had a headache. It wasn’t terrible but it was persistent and neither paracetamol nor ibuprofen took it away. I ended up dozing on and off in the comfort of my bed or a large armchair. I had dreamt about the armchair when I was on the street.  I had sat on pavements, on park benches, on upright chairs in popular burger chains or in churches. I missed somewhere comfortable to lounge. Towards the end of my fourteen-night sleep out my back ached and my neck was getting stiff. My legs ached too, from all the walking. That’s when I had thought of home and a large comfortable chair. This may seem like a really obvious thing to say, but the street lacks some basic creature comforts. I had a really lovely shower at City Taxis offices during my sleep out. I was very grateful. But it was a work shower. That means you get undressed in the little shower room, shower, dry yourself and i
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After thoughts 1

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 Down but not out. Yesterday was the kind of day I dreaded on the 14 day sleep out. The rain was heavy and incessant. I ran the short distance from my front door to my car, and at work, I ran from the car to the front door. Some of the places I slept would have been ruled out by yesterday’s rain. The ground would have been soaked and I would have been stupid to sleep in places with puddled water.  There are days in the Archer Project when we just need to make sure people leave with dry clothes. Keeping dry is part of keeping warm. If I had been sleeping out last night instead of last week I’d have been huddled in a corner of a church porch, most likely sat up. And if I had got so wet during the day I would have spent parts of the night walking round to create body heat. People who rough sleep tell us about the cold and the wet. Very few words are needed. It’s usually written on their faces and in their body language. A simple, ‘Bloody freezing last night!’ tells
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Day 15

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Day 15: Has it ended yet? I was awake at just before six this morning, lying in my sleeping bag, looking out at a clear sky from the doorway at St John's Church, Ranmoor in Sheffield. I tucked my shoulders into the bag because it was cold. Today I can go home but I instead of elation I feel drained and empty. I have no sense of achievement or satisfaction. I realised that if this was the last day of an adventure, walking the Pennine Way or something like that, I may be sad that was over but I’d be taking away a trophy of some kind, an objective completed and enjoyed. I haven’t enjoyed this fourteen days.  I’ve loved meeting wonderful people at the end of the day. And I’ve made some new friends. But homelessness got into my head and body and that’s a horrible experience. On Friday afternoon I had a low. It wasn’t a surprise. It happened most days but that day I texted my wife: “I just need to say this to someone, I don’t want you to come and get me, but I’ve had enough.
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Day 14

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Day 14: The loo One of the most frequent questions I’ve been asked is, “What are you doing about the toilet?”  Remember, I am not homeless. I have had 14 churchyards to sleep in. Most have given me access to a toilet, though I have had some nights with no loo in sight. Toilets are a problem. Walking from the car park to our centre at Sheffield Cathedral one morning, Patrick was stood gloved up, bag in one hand, shovel in the other and a bucket of soapy water on the ground. “Just dealing with a pile.” “Oh, that’s unpleasant.” “I know, fancy needing to go and there being nowhere!” His sympathy was with the leaver of the deposit. Mine was with him.  I went into this fourteen days of homelessness knowing I have occasional problems with IBS (irritable bowel syndrome). There are moments when my body gives me little warning of the need to go. Sometimes it’s an immediate demand. At others I can manage about fifteen or so minutes of concentrated effort to get me to a loo. I’ve been
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Day 13

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Day 13: First survive, then thrive.. I’m sat on The Moor, one of the main shopping streets in Sheffield. It’s 8.30am. Shops are getting ready to open and a few familiar faces have walked past me. Two are men who are part of the street homeless population. One has accommodation. He walked past with a can of alcohol in his hand, open. It would be easy for me to judge him, after all he could be at home instead of here and he's drinking early in the morning. I feel conflicted because I know there's a reason he turned to drink. I also know he won't be easy to deal with later in the day if he drinks too much. I have a day of nothingness ahead. It is beyond boredom. It is surviving, with no other purpose than to get through the day. There are moments of relief, and for some that comes in the form of alcohol or drugs. Yesterday, for me, it was Carla. She spotted me and waved. I came alive. A smiling face I knew walking towards me!! Carla has never been homeless, but her
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Day 12

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Day 12: It’s everywhere I’m in Eyam, famous as the Plague Village. I’m not here because it is overrun with homelessness. Though rural homelessness is real and the locals can tell you about supporting people who have made the countryside their none-home.  Quite simply, Eyam Parish Church is where the idea of a fourteen day sleep out began. My day here has felt like a ‘break’ from being homeless and I feel a bit guilty for not being more hardcore. Afterall, I’m supposed to be homeless.  On my way here I had a conversation with someone who had slept rough for two weeks. It wasn’t in a rural village, but it was in her local community. She didn’t run away to the city. And it was ‘hardcore’ homelessness. But most of her homelessness wasn’t sleeping rough. She survived by using friends’ homes when life went wrong. For her it was always domestic violence. Interestingly, she distinguished between times when there was no physical violence, it was just that home had become dangerous,
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