A Day In The (Street) Life

There were pains gathering in my stomach; a mixture of hunger and the inevitable thought that I would I would have to start “grafting” any time soon.  I walked over to a spot which looked popular during the night.  I could see none of the faces from the previous evening nor did there seem to be anyone working the area.  I sat below a poignant piece of graffiti about the homeless being people too, laid down my jacket (carefully obscuring the designer label in case eyebrows were raised and fingers pointed) and did my best to look in need without looking pathetic.  Lord knows, I tried to speak but every time I opened my mouth to ask for spare change no words came out.

My first attempt at grafting was slow to say the least; slow and silent.  In a couple of hours there were a couple of coins laying on my jacket and I had been given some food, all of which I am eternally grateful for.  I am not greedy, I am fairly certain that I recognised a few people who had grafted the spot the previous night.  I acknowledged them with a nod, collected up my jacket and collection of change and headed towards the shopping centre, hoping above all that I was not being followed by someone keen to find out who the intruder was and suggest in somewhat physical terms that I may want to go elsewhere.  Nothing untoward happened and I bought some cheap but filling food and sugary drink which I sat down in the local park to enjoy.

Once again I felt the slightly uneasy feeling of being watched and, looking up to see the same familiar face of a grafter who could probably give a heavyweight boxer a run for their money, primed myself for the inevitable pasting.

“You  chilling?” asked the figure with maybe just a hint of a growl.  I nodded weakly, expecting the “valuable lesson” to be administered.  A heavily bejewelled hand held out a bottle of beer; this was not at all what I was expecting, although a part of me wondered if this was all part of the test: “You take my pitch, you drink my beer….”.  I help up my bottle of pop and replied “I’ve got this thanks”.  I wasn’t going to add that I didn’t drink in case it was accidentally taken as an impromptu AA intervention.  My words were met with a clinking of bottles, a slow nod of the head and the sucking of air through the teeth that can mean at least 100 different things in some cultures.

I awarded myself the rest of the day off; I had scraped together enough to eat, so I spent some time finding my bearings in daylight and quietly watching some old hands demonstrating their well practiced art on the streets.  As evening rolled around, I returned to my night spot, still baffled as to why nobody else saw its relative virtues as I had.  It wasn’t on the “main drag” so grafting would undoubtedly be slower and less profitable, but that wasn’t what I was about anyway.  I made a conscious decision at that point: if people wished to offer me anything or make some kind of donation it would be received with the thanks it deserved but I wasn’t going to beg.  It was a philosophy and approach which sat well in my conscience.

As I was contemplating this, a mobile soup kitchen arrived in the lay-by in front of me.  I like to think if this as Law of Attraction; everything has a cause and effect, therefore if there is always a reason then there is no such thing as coincidence.  I sat with a coffee and a hot-dog, feeling somewhat isolated from the rest of the homeless people who had now turned up for their fill.  I sat silently away from the main group so as not to feel intrusive.

As I was eating (and staring into space – something I am particularly good at it would seem), a lady approached me with hand outstretched “It’s not much but please take it; don’t become like the others – you are worth more than that.” I thanked her without checking to see what she had given me – it would feel as if to be scrutinising to determine if the gift is worthy or not.

As night fell and morning arrived once again, a steady stream of passers-by handed me a few coins here and there, each received with the same great thanks; none of those people were responsible for my circumstances therefore I had no expectation that they help me.