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I briefly worked in London when in my late teens. I don't remember a whole lot about it but one thing I do remember is seeing my first homeless person, a young girl, about the same age as me, huddled under a blanket in Euston Station. I can picture her face today.

 

I saw many other people sleeping rough down there and I was shocked. It was something I had not been aware of before.

 

When I returned home to Liverpool, I became aware that although not nearly as severe as London, there was a problem there too.

 

I’m not sure if it was because I stopped going to certain places at certain times or whether the problem had gone away but either way it wasn’t something I thought was such an issue anymore.

 

That was until last year… On my normal run dropping the family in school and work I noticed what, at first glance, I thought was some dumped clothes in Rumford St, by Chapel St in town. A second look revealed a young man, asleep on an under street hot air vent, soaked to the bone and looking in a bad way.

 

I wanted to help but didn’t know what to do or who to speak to. I phoned the Ambulance Service, told them of his condition and location and they told me that they would send an ambulance but they get a lot of calls like this and all they can do is check the person is ok and that often, the person has already moved on by the time they get there.

 

The next day he was there on the same spot again. It wasn’t raining but it was cold. He was awake and sitting up today. He wasn’t asking people for money, he was just there for the heat from that vent. I asked him was he O.K. and he said yes thanks, smiled and wished me a good day.

 

He was there, in the same spot for the next few days and I didn’t know how to help beyond taking him a coffee and breakfast and having a brief chat.  I wasn’t sure if this was even the right thing to do, would he feel patronised? Did he even want the coffee? He’d never asked for it.

 

The weather became colder and wetter over the next week and his health wasn’t getting any better. A week ago, I was saddened every morning when I saw him. This week it was almost relieved that he was still alive. I searched the internet and found out about the Whitechapel Centre. I phoned them up and explained the situation. They were fantastic, they asked for his location and anything else I could tell them and explained they would send an outreach worker through the night to speak to him.

 

The next day he wasn’t there.

 

I pass there every morning. He has been back there once but only once. The Whitechapel Centre’s help isn’t just one off help, it is continuous support helping people back on to their feet, back in to their own homes and much more.

 

Behind every rough sleeper is a sad story but with the right help these stories can have good endings.

 

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