living on the streets and covid

[Mr Ripple]

Lockdown Shows We Can Defeat Homelessness – If We Care Enough https://a.msn.com/r/2/BB185Gsm?m=en-gb&referrerID=InAppShare

 

[oldhippydude]

Reports of rough sleeping in UK rose sharply during lockdown


Exclusive: increase came despite government claim 90% of homeless people had been helped off streets

https://www.theguardian.com/society...h-sleeping-in-uk-rose-sharply-during-lockdown

 

[Mr Ripple]

Reports of rough sleeping in UK rose sharply during lockdown


Exclusive: increase came despite government claim 90% of homeless people had been helped off streets

https://www.theguardian.com/society...h-sleeping-in-uk-rose-sharply-during-lockdown

There's homeless and homeless that sleep rough.
I remember reading about a landlord evicting a front line doctor through fear they would give them covid.

 

[Mawsley]

Due to this being an open forum I have deleted my post so as not to cause anymore offence to anybody else and will keep my opinions to myself which is probably for the best.

Mate.

For a few teenage years I used to be abused by my clarinet teacher in my parents bedroom, leading up to the time he raped me. I'm must have been a shit hot piece of ass because I also got raped in a clothes shop changing room when I was 16 by another paedophile. This sexual abuse drove me on a downward spiral of aggression, self hatred and powered my self destruction through anything and everything.

Shortly after that I was homeless for a couple of years, getting pissed on, beaten, and frequently robbed by drunk cunts who probably saw me as nothing more than "a no mark junky". The sort of cunts who'd probably happily wrap themselves in flags and national pride.

Everybody - every single person - I knew on the streets had similar tales of sexual or physical abuse, or had another form of psychological trauma. As the 80s rolled on we were joined by the economically disenfranchised. It's cold, hard and lonely out there. It's fucking hard. With each passing day, with each freezing night your mind deteriorates - no matter how strong a person you were, you crumble. You do things you'd never dream of doing just to get some food, some warmth, some sense of normality - something to block out the rage and pain.

Shooting a gun doesn't make anyone a better person than anybody else. The bravery of state sanctioned murder means they should be valued over the prepubescent girl who got passed around her uncles? The young lad who spent every day being beaten shitless by his alcoholic father? Nah. Not a fucking hope.

No one lives on the street because they chose that way of life. They spiralled there through lack of love, hope and/or support. And if people write them off as "a no mark junky" then they're pretty much fucked.

I'm not having a pop at you, I accept that most fail to understand the realities of why people are homeless or why they do the things they do once there. This is more a plea to ask you to check yourself and just ponder on it for a bit.

I escaped because I received strong support and unconditional love. I made their lives hell over and over - but in the end they got me into college, a career and my own house. I escaped because people saw the potential for me to grow with opportunities, opportunities that thanks to cuts to the mental health service, social services, and council homes just doesn't exist to any sane level any longer.

That "no mark junky" could one day own a business, fix your car, or be an MP. Give them all a chance, eh?

 

[mick brown]

Mate.

For a few teenage years I used to be abused by my clarinet teacher in my parents bedroom, leading up to the time he raped me. I'm must have been a shit hot piece of ass because I also got raped in a clothes shop changing room when I was 16 by another paedophile. This sexual abuse drove me on a downward spiral of aggression, self hatred and powered my self destruction through anything and everything.

Shortly after that I was homeless for a couple of years, getting pissed on, beaten, and frequently robbed by drunk cunts who probably saw me as nothing more than "a no mark junky". The sort of cunts who'd probably happily wrap themselves in flags and national pride.

Everybody - every single person - I knew on the streets had similar tales of sexual or physical abuse, or had another form of psychological trauma. As the 80s rolled on we were joined by the economically disenfranchised. It's cold, hard and lonely out there. It's fucking hard. With each passing day, with each freezing night your mind deteriorates - no matter how strong a person you were, you crumble. You do things you'd never dream of doing just to get some food, some warmth, some sense of normality - something to block out the rage and pain.

Shooting a gun doesn't make anyone a better person than anybody else. The bravery of state sanctioned murder means they should be valued over the prepubescent girl who got passed around her uncles? The young lad who spent every day being beaten shitless by his alcoholic father? Nah. Not a fucking hope.

No one lives on the street because they chose that way of life. They spiralled there through lack of love, hope and/or support. And if people write them off as "a no mark junky" then they're pretty much fucked.

I'm not having a pop at you, I accept that most fail to understand the realities of why people are homeless or why they do the things they do once there. This is more a plea to ask you to check yourself and just ponder on it for a bit.

I escaped because I received strong support and unconditional love. I made their lives hell over and over - but in the end they got me into college, a career and my own house. I escaped because people saw the potential for me to grow with opportunities, opportunities that thanks to cuts to the mental health service, social services, and council homes just doesn't exist to any sane level any longer.

That "no mark junky" could one day own a business, fix your car, or be an MP. Give them all a chance, eh?

Thanks, I've never been called a "state sanctioned murderer " before. That's a new one to me. [emoji33] [emoji23]

 

[Mutley1]

When I was 19 & after my first marriage failed I ended up on the streets for 5 months before getting help from the YMCA the place was a dive & I hardly stayed there while I was there for 2 months mainly used it for grabbing a shower & food & after 2 months of trying just about every housing association one called bentilee community housing got me a flat & the rest is as they say is history, I was not drink or a drug addict & when I see the homeless on the streets these days I don't judge as I don't know there story & been homeless can happen to anybody, anyway sorry for long post..

 

[Mawsley]

Thanks, I've never been called a "state sanctioned murderer " before. That's a new one to me. [emoji33] [emoji23]

I knew that tin-opener would let the worms tumble to the floor

Poetic licence to compare and contrast, nothing more

 

[mick brown]

I knew that tin-opener would let the worms tumble to the floor

Poetic licence to compare and contrast, nothing more

No problem, I thought it was quite funny really. [emoji1]

 

[Crewella]

Mate.

For a few teenage years I used to be abused by my clarinet teacher in my parents bedroom, leading up to the time he raped me. I'm must have been a shit hot piece of ass because I also got raped in a clothes shop changing room when I was 16 by another paedophile. This sexual abuse drove me on a downward spiral of aggression, self hatred and powered my self destruction through anything and everything.

Shortly after that I was homeless for a couple of years, getting pissed on, beaten, and frequently robbed by drunk cunts who probably saw me as nothing more than "a no mark junky". The sort of cunts who'd probably happily wrap themselves in flags and national pride.

Everybody - every single person - I knew on the streets had similar tales of sexual or physical abuse, or had another form of psychological trauma. As the 80s rolled on we were joined by the economically disenfranchised. It's cold, hard and lonely out there. It's fucking hard. With each passing day, with each freezing night your mind deteriorates - no matter how strong a person you were, you crumble. You do things you'd never dream of doing just to get some food, some warmth, some sense of normality - something to block out the rage and pain.

Shooting a gun doesn't make anyone a better person than anybody else. The bravery of state sanctioned murder means they should be valued over the prepubescent girl who got passed around her uncles? The young lad who spent every day being beaten shitless by his alcoholic father? Nah. Not a fucking hope.

No one lives on the street because they chose that way of life. They spiralled there through lack of love, hope and/or support. And if people write them off as "a no mark junky" then they're pretty much fucked.

I'm not having a pop at you, I accept that most fail to understand the realities of why people are homeless or why they do the things they do once there. This is more a plea to ask you to check yourself and just ponder on it for a bit.

I escaped because I received strong support and unconditional love. I made their lives hell over and over - but in the end they got me into college, a career and my own house. I escaped because people saw the potential for me to grow with opportunities, opportunities that thanks to cuts to the mental health service, social services, and council homes just doesn't exist to any sane level any longer.

That "no mark junky" could one day own a business, fix your car, or be an MP. Give them all a chance, eh?

Add to that, even by choice it's often between a rock and a hard place. I know someone was so anxious about losing his home when his mental health deteriorated and he lost his job that he disappeared, went 'walkabout' and slept rough for the best part of a year. I think the logic was, in his confused state, that he was so scared of being homeless that he tried to prove to himself he could survive if 'the worst' happened. He did, eventually resurfaced, got some treatment and support and managed to keep his home. He's still struggling, but he's better than he was.

I tend to think 'there but for the grace of God go I'.

 

[Mawsley]

Add to that, even by choice it's often between a rock and a hard place. I know someone was so anxious about losing his home when his mental health deteriorated and he lost his job that he disappeared, went 'walkabout' and slept rough for the best part of a year. I think the logic was, in his confused state, that he was so scared of being homeless that he tried to prove to himself he could survive if 'the worst' happened. He did, eventually resurfaced, got some treatment and support and managed to keep his home. He's still struggling, but he's better than he was.

I tend to think 'there but for the grace of God go I'.

I set off to go walk about one night when I had my breakdown. I was picked up by the police within half an hour and they (with the wife) took me to see if I could be voluntarily sectioned...whatever it's called...but it was full at the time so we got sent away with some sage advice like 'try to think happy thoughts'. That's kinda the best Northants MH can offer these days.

Maybe if there'd been space I wouldn't have gone through the wrist slashing & overdose episodes, but I know that if I hadn't been grabbed by the police I'd have ended up back on the streets again. Well, less streets and more later-day Orwell's Down & Out in Paris and London probably.