Ladies and gentlemen,
 
Thank you all very much for your support. I can’t begin to describe how amazed I was by your response.  £1000 was raised in the first thirty hours.  And donations are still coming in.  I am sorry it has taken me so long to let you know how the night went.

After midnight mass, I went home, and changed into my homeless gear. No ski gear. No thermals. No phone, no iPod, no money.
 
It is very difficult to make yourself look homeless!
 
Mum dropped me off in Dover Street, and I was off to roam the streets! No water. No food.  I was already hungry.
 
As I headed up to Piccadilly Circus I was surprised by how many people were out on nights out on Christmas Eve. I found a strip of cardboard in a bin, and created a sign in order to raise some awareness to what I was doing and hopefully raise some more money for Crisis.
 
With my new sign in hand I headed towards a very busy and loud Leicester square. I quickly realised that I was going to have no luck in finding anyone interested in helping homelessness. I saw two homeless people in the square, both being berated and verbally abused by groups of intoxicated males.
 
No more than a few seconds after this I too was receiving abuse. A fine looking gentleman with a tattooed neck and gold teeth took it upon himself to let me know I was nothing but a "piece of sh*t homeless man", and proceeded to grab hold of the sign I was holding. I attempted to explain what I was doing, and asked him to let go of the sign etc. He wasn't interested, we duelled, and I walked away with my sign in one piece.  (He also spent part of Christmas Eve asleep on the street.)
 
As I walked away, a large eastern European man shouted at me "I came to this country homeless, why should I help you". Turning out of the square a "big issue" seller ran across the street in front of me to join some others in a doorway inhaling some form of substance that was being shared out.
 
I decided Leicester square was not somewhere I wanted to spend the night.
 
I turned down Rupert Avenue and walked in the direction of the safety of Piccadilly. I was stopped by a man wearing black leather shoes, light blue jeans, an Ed Hardy zip hoody and a knock off quilted Barbour jacket. He wanted to know what I was doing. I explained. He was homeless too, although he said he would never let himself look homeless, he had too much pride. He was 30 years old, from Latvia, his life as a homeless man in London, he claimed, was better than his life with a 3 bedroom flat in Latvia. We spoke at length, he told me about the charities that help the homeless, and how he felt they didn't help, he had been banned by 3 shelters, he was not allowed in, even to shower. He claimed obtaining food was easy! "I have two good meals a day, oh yeah, easy, the restaurants, I know some guys who work there now so they will give me food. You think I go hungry right? Look at me! Do I look hungry?" He was no taller than five foot six, he had an athletic build, he was not skinny or starving. "I use to know a girl who worked at the gym, she use to give me free passes, I dress like this, she has no idea I'm homeless. I would go and work out"
 
He slept in St James square most nights, because the security teams that ensured the safety of the residences also made him feel safe.
 
He then moved on to the exact subject I wanted to know more about. "I didn't smoke or drink before I was homeless, I smoke because it gives me something to do. I drink a bit in the evenings because then I can sleep. If I'm drunk I will forget the fact that I'm homeless, and when I lie down to go to sleep, I fall asleep within 5 minutes. Drugs? I don't like them, but yeah sure I can get you some. You got warm socks? And wet wipes? You can trade! Sure! I know a guy, who will give you two shots of heroine, you want?"
 
As intrigued as I was, I decided I liked my socks, and wanted to hang on to them. I headed towards Haymarket.
 
At 4am on Christmas Eve Pall Mall was silent. Outside one of the shops a bearded man was wrapped up in his sleeping bag, positioning himself against the wall, with his head touching the adjoining wall in order to feel safe. Further down the road an alley way was occupied by another body in a sleeping bag lying on top of layers of cardboard with all his possessions wrapped up in bin liners behind his head.
 
A VW Golf pulled up, as the window went down, a voice asked to see my sign. "Ah you are the perfect person, here take these."  There were three of them, carrying a car load of presents.  They had spent the night driving around London looking for the homeless.  The presents they had contained food and clothing, and each present was left by the side of a sleeping homeless person to wake up to on Christmas Day.  I was speechless.  They didn’t work for a charity, they had just decided that they wanted to help and this was the way that they were going to do it.  I explained that I would pass the presents they had given me on to someone else, and pointed them in the direction of the two homeless people I had just walked past.  The presents were delivered.  They left, heading for Marble Arch to continue their nights work.

 

I walked up to Trafalgar Square looking for someone to give the presents too.  A couple were staggering around singing Christmas carols, three Spanish tourists stopped their Boris bikes to take a photo of the Olympic clock.  I spotted a security guard who was minding the Christmas nativity scene that had been laid out in the middle of the square.  I asked her where I might be able to find a worthy cause for the presents.  “Along the embankment, the strand and outside Charring Cross, you will find lots of homeless.  But they are the survivors; they know how to get food, and how to get charity help.  Head up to the church, round the back you might find one or two, usually they are the ones who most need help, the scared ones.”

Perfect, St Martins in the Field it was.   In the alleyway behind the church, as she promised, was a motionless head sticking out of blue sleeping bag curled up in a doorway opposite a statue of Oscar Wilde.  So interested in the statue, I hadn’t registered the figure watching me through the phone box that I was standing next to.  I had brought a camera with me as I wanted to take photos of some of the people I was hoping to meet, and some of the places that I was hoping to get to.  A man the size of my house towered over me, “that’s a nice camera”.  He was vast, and generally terrifying to look at.  I turned, and ran.

Having decided that the man asleep behind the church was the person for the gifts I had, I was determined to give them to him.  Approaching from the other side of the church, and a little more alert, I walked back to the alleyway to deliver the presents.  No sign of the monster I had just come across, I made a safe delivery.

 

Wandering up to The Strand, I was stopped by a man in a doorway.  He was dressed all in red, and had a white beard.  He said he was embracing Christmas, and if he looked like Father Christmas, perhaps people might take more pity on him.  He was older than the others I had come across, “you’ll never guess my age, I’m 63.  What are you doing out here? For charity? No you’ve got it all wrong you see, that money won’t help anyone out here, the charities will just take it all, we won’t see any of that money.”  He was not the first person to have told me that, it seems that those who are kicked out of the hostels and shelters due to their habits will always bear a grudge.  He spoke at length about politics, which he was convinced was all a fix, and religion, making references to passages from the bible throughout the conversation.  “But I don’t really believe in anything anymore.  I’ve seen no evidence.”

 

It was time for bed.  I dug out some cardboard from a bin on the street, and laid it down outside one of the shop windows.  It was well lit, and I was under cover if it rained.  I unrolled my sleeping bag, and climbed in.  For the first time that night I felt like everyone else on the street, I felt vulnerable.

Lying on the ground wrapped in a sleeping bag, I felt scared.  I struggled to sleep, any noise or movements and I found myself frantically looking around, almost as if I was expecting someone to be there.  I wondered how people could do this every night, and I thought back to what had been said earlier in the night, “I drink so I can sleep.”

I woke up with a start, as two pigeons were locked in a battle over a piece of bread next to my head.  It was light, and traffic, even on Christmas Day, was beginning to build.  A minivan pulled up, and a lady ran out with a Pret A Manger bag.  “Here take this, Merry Christmas”, she left the bag, jumped into the van, and off it went.  I opened the bag.  A sandwich, a croissant, a banana and a cup of tea were inside.  I had been given an article to read a week before about Pret A Manger and what they do to try and help the homeless,  I never expected to be on the receiving end of it.  But I was extremely grateful.  During the course of my breakfast, two more food parcels were offered to me by other charity representatives.  After what I had heard during the night, I was relieved to see the charities at work.

I rolled up my sleeping bag, and set off, homebound.

The streets were busy, and I realised how difficult it must be for the homeless to go to the loo during day light hours.  It’s easy under the cover of darkness at night, but urinating in broad daylight in the middle of Knightsbridge would be frowned upon.  In order not to cause a scene I called in to the Royal Brompton.

 

Some families like a pre-Christmas lunch walk, well my Christmas Day walk was a three and a half hour walk home.  It gave me plenty of time to think about the night’s events, I concluded it was one of the best experiences of my life, for a long time I had wanted to know what life was like for the homeless, and everything I learnt that night justified my decision to raise money for Crisis, who help the majority of the homeless turn their lives around.  Sleeping on the streets is not for the faint hearted, and although I would do it again if I could raise more money, I was happy to be home.

Crisis, are extremely grateful for the support that you have given them.  The current total stands at £1,809.  What an amazing response. 

The good news is that you can keep donating up to three months after the event, so for those of you who would still like to donate to Crisis you can do so by clicking on this link:

http://www.justgiving.com/Hugo-Wharton

I have also added a few pictures, and you can find two videos on youtube if you click on the link below:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iynSsKvv7z4&context=C3a79f53ADOEgsToPDskKZffCkoRfOuzXaIJaXO-Gw

It would be great if we could get up to £2000, and although I was told the charities don’t help, they really do!  These donations will help to supply food, shelter and health check-ups to the homeless.

Not far to go! So get on to the website!

 

A very Happy New Year to you all,

 

Hugo Wharton