THEY sit glued to the pavement, hats laid out politely in front of crossed legs. Legs that long to one-day climb stairs and stretch onto mattresses. Their faces are weathered and embarrassed. Their smiles reveal brown, neglected teeth, their hands are purple, bulbous lumps. Distorted views of a homeless person’s life are brought into focus.

Their nomadic lives are often not in their control. The council moves them from city to city as a shepherd would move his flock. Except a shepherd would tend to his flock once moved.

Hundreds were ushered out of East London during preparation for the London Olympics, and Brighton, being a 50 minute train ride away. seemed an obvious destination.

They are not hungry, “to go hungry you have to be an idiot” I’m told. The charities in Brighton feed them. Enough money is dropped into beanie hats to keep their heads above water. Until they are housed the bodies will remain fully immersed. The day-to-day boredom eats away at them. This is where drugs come in. An extreme heroin/crack cocaine addiction costs £200 to £300 per day. Through begging all day this is affordable. The addicts will beg, then score over and over again.

Others will beg for three or four hours making roughly £40. Blistered lips tell tales of £800 on Christmas Eve then the same again on Christmas Day. Having thought about this it is perfectly believable, but what is this worth? It can get them a hostel for a while, maybe some new clothes, but the warmth is temporary.

The ease at which people can be reduced to a bundle of clothes hunkered in a shop door is terrifying. We all slip up; most of us have a cushion to soften the fall.

When this cushion is removed, regular life can be torn to shreds in a heartbeat.

The most common story explained was of being “kicked out by the misses.” I then asked if no other family members could be called upon. “Of course, but I am a man, I can stand on my own two feet.” As old acquaintances stroll by hoods are pulled low. Pride is the last thing to wither away in the lives of the forgotten.

Tom Wigan – journalist

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