My friend Stephen has been living outside of Waitrose on Marmion Road for five months, having been made homeless on Christmas Eve 2017. He, like any rough sleeper, needed somewhere to sleep that was sheltered away from the tremendously changeable weather conditions of the earlier months of the year - the biting cold and torrential rain of January to March, and the stark hot sun which starts to emerge from April and grows steadily more unbearable as the weeks go on. So he chose this spot. He kept his spartan belongings as far out of the was as he possibly could, neatly piled as close to the wall as he could get them, so that there was ample room for passers-by. He steadfastly refused to beg for money, having far too much pride for such a thing, and survived only on the generosity of strangers who offered him food and drinks to get by on. Stephen is unerringly polite and friendly, and has built up a lovely rapport with the ‘regulars’ who pass by and say hello to him each day. In recent weeks, Stephen has suffered two strokes. He has to take regular medication because of them, and keeps this at a friend’s house because he fears other people on the street might steal them if he keeps them with him. Because of his poor physical health, the twenty-minute walk to the friend’s house takes him an hour, and he physically could not carry his blankets, what little clothing he owned, and his few other belongings with him three times a day, so he would leave a little note letting people know he had just popped to take his medication and to please not touch his stuff. Two weeks ago, he came back from one of these two hour round-trips, and found that all of his belongings had been removed. A letter and photographs of his neat little pile of things had been left by the council. This was on a Thursday evening; the council’s letter informed him that he could retrieve them on Tuesday the next week. Luckily I and a few of his other friends, members of the general public who care about him and his welfare, managed to get together a new sleeping bag, some toiletries, a few clothes and other things essential for Stephen’s wellbeing. Goodness knows how the council expected him to survive on the streets for five nights with literally nothing but the clothes he stood up in. Stephen visited me on Monday and went off at the usual time to his friend’s house for his medicine. Ten minutes later, he called me and hung up immediately so I would know to call him back (we do this, obviously, so that he does not use up his phone credit too quickly). As he picked up, I said immediately, “I know what you’re going to say. They’ve done it again.” Stephen was audibly upset, the council had indeed removed everything he owned - everything that the general public had worked so hard to provide him with in his time of need - and stuck this notice to the window of Waitrose. Don’t you dare tell me there’s no homelessness problem in Portsmouth, and don’t you dare tell me that Donna Jones and this current Tory council give a single solitary toss about the plight of rough sleepers in this city. That a gentleman like Stephen could be not only left sleeping on the streets for five months, even after suffering two strokes and being left very unwell as a result, but that they would take his worldly possessions twice, expecting him to live exposed to the elements with nothing whatsoever to protect him, is disgusting. He’s asked for nothing but kind treatment and respect. As he said to me the other day, when speaking to the council, “It’s like my lips are moving but nobody understands what I’m saying.” For more information on Stephen, and to listen to an excellent piece of music written in his name by the electronic artist Grand Mal, please visit this link.
vaporwave
pixelskylines
stormborns
jacobvanloon
amandla
andulkaphoto
gummygunk
tangentwithtanner
