For a little fun I am going to post a few blogs from the point of view of a different life. This one for me isn't so hard as I have slept rough for a few months myself. Enjoy!
Dear Diary,
Today I write sitting in the driest place I have slept all week. It seems the couple from number 10 have moved away and left their garage open, I thank them loads. It took me nearly two hours of traipsing through the freezing cold rain to find this one. I have been in this estate a couple of times, the people here are to upper class to get away with sleeping around here for too long. Their kids are spoiled brats who don't understand my circumstances and have no compassion towards me and Elwood, my dog companion.
Two days ago when sitting in the town centre with him, I managed to get nearly four pound from the generosity of people passing by. That's two days of good eating for me and Elwood and a pair of socks too!
I always like to listen to the people who pass by us, some of them not willing to look at us and others making harsh assumptions that maybe I am a druggie or probably have a home. Some even tell me to get a job. These people don't understand. The children that some of them drag with them look back with questions unspoken.
I didn't chose to be homeless, I didn't chose to up my rent to an unaffordable price. But I did chose to keep Elwood, and live rough before ever moving into a rundown house share with a bunch of people I do not know without him.
This is my diary of being homeless, I am 27 years old and I am on day 64 of sleeping rough, my beard is starting to make me look the part and my clothes are perfumed with my B.O. Elwood looks healthy still, I have managed to train him to stay with me off the lead now too. He spends his day huddled by my side and making friends with the people who come up to pet him. If it wasn't for Elwood, I would have nothing. Not even the last of change from the £4.
This diary I am writing in is one of my last few possessions of the life I had before. My backpack is stuffed with a sleeping bag, tin opener, dog toy and my daughters Raggedy Anne doll she used to love... before the car accident. I keep twisting the wedding ring on my finger, I don't want to sell it, its all I have to remind me of my love. But if times keep getting hard I may have no other choice.
Elwood is now curled up in the back of the garage, it smells in here of petrol and the walls are lined with cobwebs, but I imagine this will be our shelter for about a week before we are shuffled out of sight of the upper class world. I share my sleeping bag with the dog, he keeps me warm, protects me while I sleep a few hours. You would think a garage would be warm, but they draw in the cold air like a fresh winter morning.
I never thought my life would be so different in such short of time. Even my work place never cared for my circumstances. The problem with working through agency is every worker is just a number, everybody is disposable. Harder times lie ahead for me and Elwood, there have been days where we haven't eaten and nights where drunken yobs have ran us from our choice of shelter. I fear rock bottom will be soon approaching. And I have no way out of this mess.
I only hope to keep Elwood safe and healthy. He is my beacon of light in these dark days.
Image from google
