And it all began with the ducks...

You tell me its a walk in the park?

We often get told stories by our followers.  Some are uplifting, some are amusing, some make us spittingly angry, and some, well some just make us sad.

We have a friend, lets call her Jenny, who has a little boy called Jake.  They live in a flat in a block, it has shared access by a walkway, and an outside bin area.  Jenny's little boy is a bundle of energy, and he loves running around.  So every day that she can Jenny and Jake take a walk to the Park, where they feed the ducks bread crust, and afterwards Jake rules the world from the Pirate ship in the playground.

Jenny takes up the story…

One of those late summer days, Jake had been racing round the flat, waiting for our walk.  He saves his crusts every morning for "Ducky", and she gets one crust off our little loaf every day.  Jake has a little box he puts them in, and off we go.

This day we sat on the bench by the pond, and a rather scruffy lady came and sat next to us.  I felt a bit uncomfortable, you know?  Jake has no such fears "Hello Lady"… and soon they are in a conversation about ducky.

I've seen her around town to be honest.  A bit of a bag lady, the older kids call her 'Mad Jerry'.  I'm thinking we might move away and go to find the other kids at the playground, and I turned to gather up Jake.

He had his crust box open and was very politely offering his crusts to his new friend.  Who thanked him.  And began to eat them.  

"No breakfast" said Jake decisively.  Nodding and smiling at Mad Jerry.  

Normally I'd have freaked … but…

She looked at me.  "Thank you, your little boy is the first person I've talked to in months.  They all run away, or throw stuff at me, or chant at me, he has a good heart.  And I have left some for his ducky friend."  And she smiled, gathered her bags, and walked away.

"Nice Lady, Geraldine" Jake said the name carefully.  Then started to call up his Ducky for her slightly smaller breakfast.

And it could have ended there, but of course it didn't.  Jake is at the age when everything is "Why?"  "Why didn't the lady have breakfast? Why does the lady live in that old building? Why does she carry all them bags?"…. And "Can she have my breakfast sometimes?"  

And I have to ask the same questions...

We met Geraldine lots of times after that.  She was a very private lady, and didn't really talk much to me.  But she taught Jake cats cradle, and some funny rhymes about a blackbird, and he liked being grown up and talking with her.  We used to take a picnic, and, after some difficult starts, shared it with Geraldine when she was there.

Summer turned to autumn, cold foggy mornings, trees in the park full of spiders webs and dew.  And we saw less of Geraldine.  I wanted to help her, but she wouldn't let me.  "You haven't got enough for you and Jake, I can cope deary"

And we accepted that.  And one week she didn't turn up.
We did look for her.  We asked around, asked the Policeman we see by the corner shop, even asked the kids who used to torment her.  But nothing.  Jake kept taking his 'Ducky box', with a chocolate bar for Geraldine.  But we never saw her again.

Kids are pretty tough, and Jake is a year older now.  We still feed the ducks.  And in the spring Ducky introduced us to her new offspring.

Jake calles it Geraldine duck…

Thank you Jenny.

Geraldine "Mad Jerry" was discovered dead in a derelict garage at the back of the estate.  It wasn't her usual hiding place, but nobody was really looking for her anyway.  
She was 44.

According to Crisis the average age of a person dying if they are homeless is 47.  For women it is around 43.  It shouldn't be so.
Homeless isn't worthless
Homeless isn't invisible
Homeless isn't a choice

Here at Beanies_Masato we support the Homeless.
We also support our outreach partners, by giving information about what they do, and where they can be found.  We also sell things through our webpage that donate beanie hats, scarves and duffle bags via Partner organisations.  These go directly from You to the Homeless.

http://www.masato.co.uk/collections/masato-homeless-support

The names have been changed, and some details edited at the request of Jenny.

Blog written by Sue

  

Vinnie in the spotlight!

and the story unfolds…

You will remember a couple of posts ago Dr Gabs Evans introduced us all to Vinnie.  He's the guy that she was helping to navigate the tortuous route from homeless to a semblance of normality.

So today the tea pot is brimming and the flapjacks kindly made by Mavis are on the table.  Are you ready to take the next steps?

Brushing the crumbs from her paper, Dr. Gabs continues...

Vinnie's story-

One thing I forgot to mention when I told the beginning of Vinnie’s journey is the state his hands were in. Basically a red raw mass of flesh.  While looking for shelter, he had touched fibre glass, the fibres became embedded in his skin and caused a massive infection, along with the cold and the fact that it was so painful that he couldn’t wear gloves, he also acquired frost bite.

The state of his hands worried us just as much as the fact that he was almost a skeleton.  When we found him, he was slightly over 90 lbs, and he’s about 5’9. 

It took weeks to get the embedded fibres out of his skin and before he could move his fingers again. He said the itch of it drove him quite crazy and on occasion his hands still swell up. We soaked his hands a lot in water with Epson salts, then applied duct tape and tried to get some of the fibres out, others we attacked with tweezers. Due to having been there for weeks, they had caused a pretty bad and lingering infection and the last 2 digits of his fingers were numb, even 6 months later it’s still flaring up on occasion.

When we finally got another DWP assessment date (I went along with him as he was terrified), he had the documentation for his mental health problems, but the assessor took one look at his hands and visibly paled – and that was in late April or early May, and just sputtered “You need to have it seen to!”

Another problem we had was a warrant was out for Vinnie. His mobile phone was out of charge, he couldn’t ring his “offender manager” and it also meant she couldn’t ring him.  He had no address, she has no office, but she met him in public places like the job centre on certain days.  He was so sick and weak when we found him that the first 2 weeks he could only keep soups down, so getting in touch with your probation officer is possibly not a priority if you’re trying to survive. 

What really made me angry was, the whole thing was over a SANDWICH, he was starving over the winter and had stolen a sandwich, the cheapest one the supermarket had (he wasn’t going for caviar & champers) and admitted it. They called the police, Vinnie went to court and was given a fine he couldn’t pay (if he could have, he would have bought food in the first place and wouldn’t have been starving) and since he couldn’t pay he had to do time… 

Now since he’s homeless, when he got out (btw he said the days he spent locked up saved his life as it was during a cold spell) he was automatically on probation. The letter was sent to friends who had lost their lease as well, so it took ages to reach Vinnie. He started shivering and was in a panic, I rang his offender manager, let’s say she was less than helpful or interested. We arranged to go to the Magistrate Court the next day, Dr Heald was nice enough to give us a letter also stating that Vinnie hadn’t gotten the letters, hubby & I wrote a letter and I went along for moral support. Luckily they decided “No further action!”

One of the magistrates asked me if I wasn’t worried taking in a stranger, I couldn’t stop myself from replying a bit testy “To be perfectly honest, I was more worried he’d die on me, would you like to see pictures how I found him?” 

She didn’t…

I’m grateful that no further action was taken against Vinnie, he’s not on probation anymore, but witnessing how people who possibly never were hungry unless they decided to diet, are talking down at somebody who didn’t steal out of greed but out of hunger and to survive did annoy me quite a bit.

Yes, calling the offender manager is important, but so is survival, maybe a bit more important… 

If you don’t have money for food, you have no money to top up your phone, if you steal a sarnie because you didn’t find food in bins, chances are that you need help, not punishment.

We still cannot understand why the journey is made so difficult for everyone like Vinnie.  Simple compassion and understanding would go a long way!  Instead the letter of the law, each rule with crossed T and dotted I… And if you are on the receiving end like Vinnie, but without a Dr Gabs, life seems hardly worth living…

If this story impacts on you, you can find Dr Evans on Twitter as @DrGabsEvans.

Other support is available too.  Our Partners on Twitter are there for you.

@onebigfamilyHTH - London and Kent

@YorkRoadProject - Woking

@Wolveshomeless - Wolverhampton

@simonotstreets - Leeds

@llamauUK - Wales

@SimonCommNI - Northern Ireland.

If you would like to buy a scarf or beanie to help keep a homeless person warm or a duffle bag for their possessions the link is here - 

http://www.masato.co.uk/collections/masato-homeless-support

Thank you for visiting!

It isn't always greener, that grass...

The Victorian Workhouse: Relic of the Past?

Well yes... and?

 Once again Beanie Cellars warms to the smell of Coffee, and the hum of chat, as we welcome our friend Carol Hedges.  A writer of Victorian fiction, and inveterate Blogger, Carol describes herself as

"Old, loud and opinionated"

... and lists her 'Loves' as family, 2CVs, cats and cake!

Whilst researching her novels for background and detail, Carol mused on the similarities and differences 150 odd years have brought to our 'green and pleasant land'.

Carol, the floor is yours!

Consider this painting for a moment if you will...

Luke Fildes

Admission to a casual ward (1874)

Even though Fildes' famous painting was posed (the gent in the top hat was a known street 'character' and was allegedly paid to lean against the wall, looking decrepit), it is still a pretty accurate depiction of life for those at the bottom of the Victorian food chain. When you had no job, no money for food or rent, and nothing viable left to sell or pawn, you had two choices: the 'Asylum for the Houseless Poor' or the street.

Henry Mayhew, writing twenty years earlier, paints an equally vivid picture. He describes:

''..the homeless crowds gathered about the Asylum, waiting for the first  opening of the doors., with their bare feet, blue and ulcerous with the cold, resting for hours on the ice and snow in the streets. To hear the cries of the hungry, shivering children ..is a thing to haunt one for life. There are 400 and odd creatures utterly destitute - mothers with infants at their breasts - fathers with boys holding by their side - the friendless - the penniless - the shirtless, shoeless, breadless, homeless; in a word, the very poorest of this the very richest city in the world.'' 

(Mayhew, London Labour & The London Poor volume 111)

Although the Workhouse has had a very bad press - think of Oliver Twist, many poor people had no option but to enter it, even if only temporarily. For a large percentage of the working poor, jobs were seasonal or sporadic. Men were hired by the day (docks), by the season (agriculture) or for a limited time (May-June was the London Season). With no trade unions, no labour laws and no minimum wage, they were unable to budget. No work = no pay. Any work-related accidents at a time when medical care had to be paid for, could spell disaster.

Once they entered the Workhouse, personal possessions were taken away, and families split up. Inmates quickly became institutionalised and neglected. The routines of hard physical labour, the poor quality food, the feeling of belonging nowhere and having no future must have been devastating upon their sense of self.

In Carol's book, Honour & Obey, the Clapham family are driven out of their slum tenement by their ruthless landlord, Morbid Crevice. Here, they encounter their first taste of Workhouse life:

The family are led through a series of dark passages, then across a dismal yard to a bare unlit room. Cold from stone flags seeps into their thin shoes.

      ''Women and children in there,'' the porter says, pointing at a closed door.

      The woman clings desperately to her husband's arm

      ''Come along old gel,'' the man says. ''It won't be for long. I'll go out and find work tomorrow and we'll soon be on our feet again.'' But the hunch of his shoulders and the hopelessness in his voice belie his cheerful words.

      The girl tugs at her skirt.

      ''C'mon Ma,'' she says. '''Best not to linger, eh?''

      The man gives the girl a grateful look. She stares back, her eyes hard like stones. She isn't fooled. She knows that it is the end of the road for her family. That her little brothers and sisters will be sent elsewhere, that her father will sink even further into drink and her mother into despair. That is what always happens.

      What she doesn't know is how she is going to get revenge on those who did this to them. Not yet. But she will.

(Honour & Obey by Carol Hedges)

Couple the sense of utter despair with the knowledge that society regarded the poor as 'undeserving' - it was widely thought character defects, drink or sheer idleness meant that people were reduced to beggary, homelessness or reliance upon the meagre provisions of the Workhouses. Reading derogatory articles in the press about the 'underclass' that inhabited the less savoury parts of the city, one can see how many on both sides of the poverty line regarded the workhouse as one step away from actually being in prison.

The Workhouse was a relic from the past. One that we look back upon with some horror. But have attitudes to the poor changed? I think not. Consider the 'zero hours' contract. The exploitation of workers by firms such as Sports Direct. The ruthless cutting of housing and family welfare benefits. The gradual privatization of dentists and many NHS services, denying the poor access to basic health care. The recent scrapping of university maintenance grants now closes the doors on tertiary education for all but the well off.

Consider too the demonization of the poor via TV programmes like 'Benefits Street', the rush to condemn 'improvident' parents who have too many children/feed their families on junk food. The eagerness with which private landlords and councils now employ bailiffs to turn whole families out of their homes because they cannot afford to pay the extortionate rent.

This Autumn, one in five 'low-waged working parents' will go without food to feed their kids. Many people will visit Food Banks, or be reliant upon the charity of friends and relatives. We may have moved away from incarcerating the poor and elderly in barrack-like Workhouses, but little in our public attitudes towards them seems to have changed much.

As one inmate of Poplar Workhouse plaintively said: ''Poverty's no crime, but here it is treated like a crime.'' (quoted by Will Crooks, Poplar Workhouse guardian 1893)

In our time too.

Telling words from Carol.

The number of homeless is going up at an alarming rate.  The raft of support systems is being dismantled too.  

Mental Health issues? Move along please.  

Domestic Violence? Go home, at least you've still got one.

Child abuse? Don't be silly, you little liar.

Young and thrown out of home? You ain't a priority - live with it.

Helpline? Phone this expensive number and wait..and wait...

At least the workhouse was a roof over your head.

You can find Carol at her regular Blogspot through this link

http://carolhedges.blogspot.co.uk/search?updated-max=2016-09-10T00:09:00-07:00&max-results=10&reverse-paginate=true

And find her on Twitter as @carolJhedges

And find her books on Amazon, in both Print and Kindle versions

At Beanies Masato we support homeless outreach by posting information and contacts.  We dispel myths.  We share the opinions of people who know...

and we sell stuff for homeless support via this link.

http://www.masato.co.uk/collections/masato-homeless-support

Carol's words were originally published on her Blog on August 6th 2016

But... There's lots of help out there....

And you are sure about that? Dr Gabs Evans has a view!

Many people who read our Blog - and thank you, you are appreciated - are not actually on the street.  Moved by the plight of the homeless they want to "DO SOMETHING".  Some volunteer, some buy things from sites like ours that donate directly to the people involved, some source essential things, like food, socks, underwear - and donate to outreach organisations.

Which leads us to our next guest.  

Beanie cellars breaks out the coffee and a muffin for Gabriella Evans, known on Twitter as @DrGabsEvans.... Who with the permission of her new friend Vinnie, is going to share their experiences.

Vinnie’s Journey

Says Dr Gabs -

Sometime in early March 2016, on a rather frosty day, I took the dogs out to a nearby park.  They became agitated and dragged me to a park bench where a man was sitting. He seemed to be drifting in and out of consciousness, so I offered to call an ambulance or help him to a doctor. He explained he’s OK, just homeless and hadn’t found shelter or food for a few days.

I ended up dragging Vinnie home, so he could have a shower, some food, wash his clothes and have a few hours of sleep in our guest room. He explained the difficulty of the system, so we decided that he should stay for a few days while we help him out. We thought it was a short-term arrangement, he would stay a few days, maybe weeks – it’s been 6 months…

Due to Vinnie’s mental health problems, it’s incredibly difficult for him to talk to strangers, talking on the phone is a major problem for him. I offered to make the phone calls for him and learned a few shocking things:

* From a mobile the calls are very, very expensive, especially for somebody who has to make the choice of food or topping up the mobile (if they actually do have that choice), so a lot of people are unable to actually call those so called “helplines”

* You end up hours on hold, being transferred from one person to the next, again it makes it very expensive for anybody on a mobile phone, for somebody with a mental health condition, it’s also torture.

* You’ll end up being given another number to call, you try to call the number and it doesn’t work or the people aren’t responsible, so you have to go through the whole process again.

* If somebody takes you in, even if it is just temporary, you fall out of the system.

* If you’re homeless, you don’t have an address.  You can get letters sent to the Job Centre, but the atmosphere there is less than nice and there is no guarantee that you’re a priority, so be prepared to stand around for a while until somebody decides to check if you got correspondence.

* The DWP assessments tend to be in places that are quite far away, the travel costs are refunded AFTER the assessment by the local job centre, the dates are with short warnings. If the dates are missed, it’s your fault and you’re sanctioned… So if you don’t have £10 to buy a train ticket (and you’re usually going there because your money was stopped already), you’re just out of luck.

Vinnie

Dr Gabs continued

I don’t have a mental health problem, I’m quite eloquent and assertive, but I ended up frustrated and sometimes in tears just from making the calls for Vinnie, he always had to be nearby to assure the person that he’s OK with them talking to me (which is fair enough) but we’ve spent hours on the phone, listening to the most annoying music possible and just waited to be transferred from one department to the next, to occasionally losing the connection and starting the process all over again…

So ends Part one!  We will be welcoming Dr Gabs back later in the week to share more of Vinnie's story.

Which leaves us thinking that there must be an easier way.  Are all these barriers and convolutions really necessary?  Is there an all powerful being trying to make the system as unhelpful as possible so the homeless will conveniently go away?

Oh I know.  There are people in the system who are amazing. Who go the extra mile to help and to shortcut the rigmarole. 

But, if you are on the receiving end, low on self esteem, feeling dirty, invisible, and running on empty... these complications are the final straw.  And when the sanctions are applied, cutting you off from ANY money AT ALL...

What does the future look like?

There are people on Twitter who can offer help, sometimes as food, sometimes as advice.

See

@YorkRoad Project - Worthing

@SimonCommNI - Northern Ireland

@Wolveshomeless - Wolverhampton

@simonotstreets - Leeds

@llamauUK - Wales

@onebigfamilyHTH - London and Medway

@Tell_StreetLink  @crisis_uk

If you would like to buy a warm beanie hat or scarf, or a duffle bag to help someone on the street the link is here

http://www.masato.co.uk/collections/masato-homeless-support

Thank you for joining us!