meet a guest D

I’m a nomad. I was born in Cambridge in 1964 – my parents were South African hippies and my father came to Cambridge to study medicine.  Cape town in the 60’s was very glamorous – a great liberal, social scene.  My father left us when I was four and my sisters were six and two.  My mother was quite embittered by being left.  She’d followed my father all over the world and then he left her for a younger model.  We moved back to South Africa and my mother went back to nursing to support us – she was a Matron in a Cape Town hospital.

My mother made us very aware that she’d sacrificed her life for us – working all hours to send us to private schools.  When I finished school, I worked as a nurse to pay for my own University place studying psychology, but I dropped out.  I had no support structure and I lived with street people and squatted in Cape Town. When I was 23, I came to London, became a Punk and squatted in Clapton.  I was doing a lot of performance and dancing and travelled back and forth from Jo’burg to London. I had a baby at 27 and another at 31 – I looked after them as a single parent until they were adults.  Life in Jo’burg was pretty extreme – violent and hard.  In 2004/5, I wrote to Tony Blair asking him for help to get away from South Africa. Got a polite reply, but no actual help.

I’d been managing to support us all with work as a journalist, but by 2010 I was out of work.  In 2011, I started my PHD – the kids had grown up and I was on my own.  I sold all my possessions and started travelling across Africa.  My PHD was about the psychological effects of HIV on women.  I would work for a few months then continue my travels.

In a way, I made myself homeless – living in my car in UK and my tent in Africa.  NGO’s in Africa were always very supportive and often gave me paid work.  I lived this nomadic, borderless life, never really feeling at home anywhere. Up to the end of 2016, I lived in my car in Cape Town near to my kids, but  I’d just had enough, so I sold my car and came to UK in January.  I didn’t have a Cent!  I spent the first weeks on the streets around Victoria.  It was bitterly cold and I got ill.  I was told that to get help, I had to be ‘spotted’ on the streets like a wild animal. I went to the Passage in Victoria, but none of the street outreach helped me get a bed.  I met an old friend and Sofa surfed for a while until I somehow got a space in a Churches Winter Shelter.  When the churches shelter closed down I followed some homeless Polish men to a park in Leyton Marshes and I camped there with them.  I guess I thought I’d be safer with them, but they robbed me of everything – my tent, my laptop, my clothes, my sleeping bag.  Luckily, I always keep my ID on me.  That Sunday I went to a Soup Kitchen in Walthamstow.  There was a Christian guy there, a Zimbabwean, and he said I could stay with him.  He was a fundamentalist born again Christian.  This guy became quite abusive and controlling.  He tried to convert me and told me my Catholic godmother was a devil worshipper.  I’d had enough and went to St Mungo’s and begged them to help me.  This time, after three months of asking, they referred me to Shelter from the Storm.

At Shelter from the Storm, I found a place of peace where I didn’t feel hunted, where I could get some sleep and headspace – one of the most underrated human needs. SFTS helped me find my own place.  They’re so lovely at the shelter, but I need my own space – somewhere I can play a little music and have a little dance.  I chose my life and I don’t regret it.

AA Gill

It’s six years since AA Gill first visited us at the shelter and wrote about us so beautifully and brilliantly.  He was a great friend to SFTS and many people who read his piece about the shelter in Christmas 2011, continue to support us and volunteer today.  He cooked for our guests a couple of times – here he is with “the blonde”. We’re so sad he’s no longer with us. Read again his lovely piece about us: http://sfts.org.uk/wp-content/uploads/2014/10/SFTS_AAGill-copy.pdf

Florence

 

A year ago, I tried to get closure about the abuse I suffered as a child in my mum’s house. I told the police and they interviewed my mum. She lied to them, I knew she would, I told the police she probably would. She said to the police, “my daughter’s always lying about this – I came home from work and found her in bed with two boys”. I was aghast! The police believed me but the just didn’t have the evidence.  Until then I’d never thought of her as truly wicked, but that ended it for me – I shut the door on my relationship with my mother for ever.

I’m a Londoner. I lived in Uganda with my dad, but came to live with my mum who was nurse living in Greenwich when I was 11. The culture shock was amazing but in a good way. I thought all white people looked the same. I loved chips! I spoke Luganda but I learned English quickly and adapted easily – I felt at home.

My dad died of cancer a year after I arrived here – I think they sent me to UK because he was ill. I adored my father, we had a very comfortable middle-class life in Uganda; he was a wealthy coffee exporter. Because I didn’t know my mum, I built up a sort of fantasy about her.  My stepmothers were pretty cruel – my dad had about 13 mistresses or wives most of whom he had children with, but he did support them all. My maternal grandfather was a High Court judge and I think he sent my mum to England because he didn’t want his daughter with this womanising man!

In Greenwich, I noticed right away things weren’t as they should be. Mum didn’t show any affection – didn’t have a listening ear. There were huge problems about my diet; I’ve always been vegetarian but she couldn’t be bothered to cook for me.  She would force me to eat burgers and sausages and meat and I would be sick. This made her furious. We lived with family members and I shared a bed with her. When I was sick in the night she would scream at me. When I tried to wash the sheets in the washing machine, she’d force me to do it by hand as a punishment. I went from being an A grade student to bottom of the class.  I think she was probably quite young when she had me and her mum had not been kind to her.

I was also being sexually abused in the family. I told her about it but she just blamed me. Whenever she got angry she would bring up the sexual abuse allegations and call me a liar – she just couldn’t deal with it.

When I was 14 I went into a children’s home. She was always physically and verbally abusive to me and the school picked it up. Sometimes I’d go for weeks without dinner money or packed lunch. Once she came home to find I’d cooked popcorn – it was the only thing I could find to eat. I’d tried to hide the evidence but I’d burnt it a bit and she could smell it. She went crazy! She hit me on the head with a pot and I got a huge lump on my head.  About this time, she shaved all my hair off – the girls at school were horrible, they made fun of me “is it a girl or a boy”, I was so ashamed.  I think this was the final straw for the school and they alerted Social Services.

My first social worker, Nathan, was a godsend. He had a monthly record subscription and any pop music they sent, he would give to me.  For my birthday, he bought me Michael Jackson Moonwalk.  I moved around different children’s homes, but Nathan always looked out for me.  When I went to a foster family and the foster father sexually abused me, Nathan got me out. I ended up in Middlesex Lodge in Uxbridge – a notorious place. It had a secure unit, just like a prison. It was full of really damaged and challenging children, most of them with much higher support needs than me.  Some of the kids showed me how to sniff glue – that was the thing then.  I tried it a few times, it does make you a bit high for a very short time, then you have to do it again. Nathan got me out of there too.

My last children’s home was St Christopher’s at Belmont Hill.  It was a wonderful 13 bed mansion with a beautiful garden. I had a couple of good years there.  The workers were great, they trained you to become independent. We all had our own rooms and we had to cook for ourselves and on Sundays, the staff cooked for us.  My friend got a job in an hotel for £120 a week.  I thought that was amazing so I got the same job myself. At 18 I had to leave and I lived in a horrible bed sit miles away in Lea Green, but I managed to get a Council exchange and came back to Greenwich.

I got in to an abusive relationship with a guy who beat me black and blue – it lasted two years.  I left him and ended up in another abusive relationship, but this time I got pregnant with my daughter. My partner really pressured me into having the baby. My daughter was born when I was 22 and he left me when I was 8 months pregnant. I had no contact with my family. I did have a couple of good friends who helped me, one of them I met in my last children’s home, but basically, I was a single parent bringing my baby up on my own. I just got on with it but I think I was probably suffering from post-natal depression and I only realised when I came out of it after about 10 years.

I did have a partner for 10 years who helped me raise my child. He wanted commitment, but I was too damaged. He was under family pressure to get marred but I just couldn’t – I was afraid.   I ended up alone again with my child and he moved on and married someone else.

My daughter was grown up when I met someone else and moved in with them.  We planned to get a mortgage and buy a house. I was working in TV production at the time and he was freelance.  We didn’t get the mortgage and the house fell through.  We moved in with his sister in Westminster.  That’s when the abuse stated and he became violent.  I was able to go out and get work but he couldn’t and he took his frustration out on me.  He hit me so much that my teeth have almost fallen out. I had to go to A&E a couple of times.  I found it really hard to understand where the abuse was coming from – what triggered it.  One morning about 6 months ago I woke up and thought “that’s it – I’ve had enough” and I left.  I stayed with friends for a bit and when I went back to get my stuff, I discovered they’d thrown it away including all my ID.

I ran out of sofas to surf on and ended up on the streets. I slept on night busses a lot and the drivers were often really kind and let you stay all night.  I never wanted to actually sleep on the streets, but I got to the point where I was just so tired I start hallucinating and I found some cardboard boxes and bedded down.  At first, I was on my own, but soon you get to know the family of the homeless community.  They tell you where the soup kitchens are, where you can shower, where you can get clothes.  Some homeless people you come across aren’t so kind. They follow you, they can be drunk and aggressive and out of it.  Also, men who aren’t homeless would harass me, try to offer me a place for the night – it was obvious what they meant and sometimes they would just up-front offer me money for sex.  It’s so cold in the middle of the night, you just feel you have no options.  You can’t eat when you want, you can’t shower when you want – you’re just so tired and you just can’t say “OK I’m ready to go home now.”

Finally, a couple of weeks ago, a street outreach team referred me to Shelter from the Storm. I feel safe here – I like this place.  I can see the volunteers love what they do – they cook and serve and give.  A bit of light at the end of my tunnel, it’s given me hope. It’s also a comfort to leave my stuff somewhere; unless they’ve done it, I don’t think anyone can understand what it’s like to drag the only belongings you have left in the world around with you all day and night – you can’t leave them for a minute.

I’m looking for work and SFTS are helping me replace my ID.  Ultimately, I’d like to use my experiences to tell stories that matter, maybe about the care system, maybe about homelessness or perhaps just about the abuse I’ve suffered and lived through.

 

meet a guest Kim

Hi, my name is Kim.  What have I got to show for my life?  Three children I hardly see – nowhere to live – Oh, I wonder sometimes what is the bloody point of it all.  Should I give up or just stay for the long run?  It’s not easy when you suffer with depression to know what’s best to do or where to go.

I came to Shelter from the Storm just over a month ago. The reason I was sent here was because of domestic violence with my boyfriend, now ex-partner.  He put his hands round my throat, caused a big row and told me to get out of his flat.  That was on a Tuesday afternoon; I slept rough at London bridge for the night – feeling scared, unsure what to do and nervous.

In the morning, I went to a homeless place called the Manna Centre, had something to eat and spoke to an advisor.  She phoned round a couple of places and I was told to be at SFTS at 6 o’clock.  They gave me great advice on what I had to do, I’ve met a lot of great people and I should be moving into my own place soon.  If it wasn’t for the staff and people that volunteer here, I would still be on the streets.

Thank you everyone at Shelter from the Storm

 

meet a guest Robin

I’m from Tottenham, St Annes Road and I was born in the North Middx Hospital. My dad was American and my mum from Jamaica. My dad was a GI and mum came here in the late 50’s. When I was 9 they split up. When dad left I really missed him and I became uncontrollable. I started hanging out with much older men and they used me to break in to shops and schools to steal. I was caught and put in a children’s home, Northolt Place – I was assessed there and they did a case conference on me. The Judge said there was no reason I shouldn’t go back home, but mum said no – she didn’t want me.

They sent me to Sir Thomas Moore Community School in West Sussex. It was run by the Christian Brothers and it was a pretty violent, abusive environment – we got hit a lot! When I was 11, I went to my first foster family in Crawley. They were lovely people but I kept running away to mum and she kept sending me back. After that I was fostered twice more, always lovely people but I always ran back home and my mum always returned me.

I left Thomas Moore at 17 and ended up in Margaret Thatcher’s ‘Short Sharp Shock Treatment’ – DC in Ashford. I was still getting in to lots of trouble and after DC, I ended up in Borstal. After Borstal I started stealing cars – Cortina’s, Corsairs, Capris, Grenadas – all nice cars. I got knicked and sent to prison.

At 22 I was released from prison and met a lovely girl at a party. We were together 28 years and have 2 beautiful daughters. I was still mixed up with gangs but I also did some legitimate work – mechanic, security, scaffolding. While I was living this gang life I got shot 5 times.  I also got knifed very badly. I’ve got a big scar on my back. They cut me with a dirty Stanley knife.  It got infected and I had to have a big operation.

I was about 35 and after the stabbing, I went to the US to look for my father, my aunt had kept in touch. I rang him and said I needed his help – had a lot of questions to ask. We were driving over Brooklyn Bridge and he opened up to me. He said he’d heard that I was in trouble and he’d come back to the UK to look for me but my mum had prevented him from contacting me. He even tried to apply through the courts but she stopped him. It meant a lot to me to know that he’d tried to find me.  Later, my son went to live with him in the States.

When I got another stabbing there was a rumour I was dead and my sister phoned my dad to tell him.  It seems the shock gave him a massive heart attack and he died in front of my son. My son hasn’t forgiven me or spoken to me since – he’s still in the States

It was difficult to escape from this sort of gang life. At the time I didn’t want for anything and life was good until I tried to leave – I wanted to see my kids grow up.  I’d seen 12 friends die and I just wanted out – a lot of funerals and no weddings. That’s when the trouble started. I was about 49 and I told them I didn’t want to be in it no more. I got my head chopped! I had to leave my family because I was frightened for their safety. I moved into my aunt’s house in Tottenham.  I’m at home at my Aunt’s when 2 gang members visit me – a guy and a girl. They ask me to do something I didn’t want to do – I said I couldn’t help them. The girl asked for the toilet and while I was showing her, the guy put 6 armour plated bullets under my bed.  45 minutes after they left the police arrived and I was arrested for possession of ammunition. They smashed up my aunt’s flat looking for the gun. I pleaded guilty and got 2 years in Pentonville.  On release I had nowhere to go, I couldn’t go back to my aunt’s and although my mum is still alive, I haven’t spoken to her for years. I knew a guy who worked in a Gym so I’d sneak in there just before they closed and leave when they opened up in the morning.  The agencies that were supposed to be supporting me when I left prison didn’t really do anything – luckily I got a referral to Shelter from the Storm. My years of violent, gang life has taken it’s toll – I’ve been told I’ve got PTSD – to be honest, I was only a child when I started. I’m getting my life back together and what I’d really like is for one day to be able to mentor and help other kids escape the sort of life I’ve lived.

 

 

meet a guest Robert

Eventually I’d love to get a place for me and Sarah to start afresh. I’d like a completely empty shell – just a small flat and we’d finish it – make it ours. Start from scratch – a mattress, a chair, find some speakers – the first tune we’d play would probably be Herbie Hancock, maybe Chick Corea – and go from there.

I was born in Clapton in 1962, I’m 52 and I’ve lived in Stoke Newington most of my life. My mum still lives there, she’s 85 and she’s got vascular dementia – she’s ok but she gets pretty fed up with the carers. I went to Upton Park Boys School in Clapton. I was happy at school – I liked anything technical or mechanical and I wanted to be an engineer. I was in the Air Cadets and I thought about signing up for the Air Force. I got an apprenticeship at Allied Foundries in Dalston as a tool and pattern maker but I didn’t finish it because I lost my log book.

I got jobs temping in warehouses and factories – worked at Maynard’s Wine Gums for a bit.  I was a little bit naughty when I was a teenager – got mixed up with some wrong people. I got nicked for stealing a car radio – got a fine and had to go some place every Saturday for a couple of months and I think we had to run around a playground or something. But…it put paid to my Air Force hopes. I had to see a probation officer and one of their ‘partners’ offered me a job doing graffiti, where they also gave me a video camera which really fascinated me. I started a short course at South Thames College – I loved it. I started applying for jobs working with video and got a job with a hire company. I got to take equipment to TV companies and exhibitions. I did that for a couple of years till I was made redundant. Luckily in those days, I could always get work temping.

I volunteered at the National Film & Television School in Beaconsfield where I helped with the editing.  I applied to study editing but sadly didn’t get in – my life would’ve been very different if I had. At the time, it was a bit of a blow.

I met someone who was making a documentary about black coal miners and I ended up being the editor on it as well as being production manager.  It was called Skin and Coal – it was sold to Channel 4 and I was proud. I thought it was an excellent little film. During the editing, my dad died and that derailed me a bit.  He had a bit of life insurance and I got about £10,000 – I lived off that for a couple of years and then just lived and worked.

Sarah is a brilliant artist and I met her in 2014 through friends. She was homeless, so she came to live with me and my mum.  She has mental health issues and eventually got a hostel place with St Mungo’s. They mucked her about a bit, first they said she’d be there 18 months, then they said they’d be closing down in 6 months. This upset her, she likes things to be as she’s been told they’ll be. The accommodation they offered her was pretty poor – just small rooms with a loo and shower in them. One place we looked at, someone offered to sell us drugs.  She didn’t like any of them and in the end, St Mungo’s kicked her out and she came back to live with me and mum.

It was the last West Ham game at Upton Park and there’s this fence you can climb along to sneak in. Sarah was a bit drunk and slipped and cut her hands badly.  We watched a bit of the match, but had to get the first aiders to bandage her up. One day mum’s carers came and mum was hiding, she used to do that, but they thought it was something to do with Sarah and her bandages. A week later I got a call from my sisters to say we had a week to clear out – they thought mum was frightened of Sarah, but she wasn’t, Mum and Sarah got on well. We were up all that night, walking till morning, then Sarah went to her hospital appointment and I went to work as a Postman.  I’d been working full time as a Postman since 2008.

Sarah had a 2-man tent and we pitched it on Stoke Newington Common. We’d put it up quite late, about 10ish and have it all wrapped up by 5.30am.  We cleared all the rubbish so no one would know we’d been there and hide the tent in the bushes. I’d go off to work and Sarah would go to a day centre. It was quite cosy in the tent – we’d get picnics from the supermarket, maybe some beers for Sarah but not usually for me.  We did this for about 6months – we had 5 tents in all – they kept getting nicked. We camped in Wanstead Flats and the park rangers pinched our tent but mostly we camped in Stoke Newington so I could pop back to mum’s for some bits. Sundays we’d go to the Rochester Castle for breakfast. Sarah liked the Eggs Royale which is poached eggs, smoked salmon and rocket – I’d have the Full English with extra eggs. We’d have endless coffee refills, charge our phones and use the bathrooms – once Sarah dyed her hair in the loos. Occasionally we’d stay in a B&B for a bit, maybe a Travel Lodge which was a bit of luxury.

It was getting cold and it was tiring. Even if we found a cheap hotel, it was hard work.  I was in Catch 22 – couldn’t save for a deposit because it was costing so much for B&Bs. Xmas 2016 we stayed in a Travel Lodge and hired some Boris Bikes but Sarah fell off and broke her ankle. The pain was so bad that she had to go into hospital to have it operated on.

Finally, Sarah got a hostel place because of her mental health.  For the first couple of weeks she wouldn’t stay, so we’d hang out in Stratford or stay in hotels. I’d been extending my overdraft to pay for everything and in the end the bank pulled the plug!

Ever since Sarah and I met, even before we got together we’d always been in touch and it was difficult for us to be apart.  Sarah had to spend more time at the hostel (she was still in plaster) and I spent nights sleeping out.  I went to the Welcome Day Centre that we used in Ilford, they referred me to the shelter and soon after I got a bed.

When I first arrived, I thought this is a lot better than sleeping out. I’m used to my own company, so I find the lack of privacy a bit difficult at times.  I built up a lot of debt which I’m slowly working to pay off and living at the shelter is a big help with that –   but I’ll do it and make a home for me and Sarah.

meet a guest Thomas

Thomas’s story of an Islington childhood and sleeping rough on the streets of Kentish Town

I’m 26 – my family lived in Market Road Islington and I was born in University College Hospital. I’ve got a little brother who’s nearly 22. Growing up in Islington was good.  I went to Brecknock School and then on to Holloway Boys.  It was good to hang out with my mates and my best friend was Charlie.  We played a lot of football, I was in the school team and in the local league – we were pretty good and won the trophy 3 or 4 times.  At 16 I went to City & Islington 6th form college to study ICT and I passed my entry level.  I had a wicked teacher called Lee and I had a great time there.  All this time I was living at home but life there was very harsh and difficult.

2 years ago, my dad nearly died.  He had a terrible accident when he fell down the stairs.  It was all very odd.  He’d been trying to wake me up for work, but it was only 3 in the morning.  We don’t really know what happened, but he must’ve become disorientated and fell. It was really bad, he was in a coma for 2 months with a blood clot in his head.  Then he got better and came home.

I was working at Screwfix and I was really frustrated – I had a lot on my mind.   My mum was in rehab and I was worried about her.  I was also worried about my dad – he was finding it difficult to be without my mum – he’d never been apart from her for 27 years.  I was really rude to my manager, but I was having such a rough time with everything – I regret it, but there you go – he sacked me!  When I lost my job, relations with my dad deteriorated.  We were getting on each other’s nerves and it got a bit out of hand and he kicked me out.  I was sleeping on the streets in Kentish Town round the back of the Co-Op. It was horrible.

I’d been on a training programme with the Arsenal on and off for 6years. I was so desperate that I called Jack who works for the Arsenal programme and asked if he could help me, as a long shot, he called Shelter from the Storm and amazingly they had a bed for me.  They were so welcoming to me at SFTS, they did everything they could to help me.  I saw the SFTS counsellor which helped me get back on track.

Mum had a bit of a wobble, but she’s back in rehab now which is great – I want her to get the best help possible.  Cookie found a place for me to move into and I’m off tomorrow.

I’m feeling optimistic about the future – I’m looking for work and I’m still volunteering at the Arsenal.  I am so grateful for the shelter and all the help they gave me when I really needed it

meet a guest: Liya

IMG_4835Liya: Read the heart breaking story of her journey from war torn Africa to a cruel & frightening life in the UK

I’m 29, I was born in Assab, Eritrea on the shores of the Red Sea. My mum was a housewifeand my dad was an accountant. We had a comfortable life. I was their only child – my mum suffered in some way when she gave birth to me and couldn’t have any more children – no one ever told me the details and she died from her medical problems when I was quite young.

When I was 12, dad and I moved to Sudan because of the war between Eritrea and Ethiopia. We lived in Dueim and had a small supermarket – just me and dad. It was ok – not as nice as home, but ok. I didn’t get an education; my dad was frightened to let me go to school – soldiers would abduct the young people and take them back for military training. For a long time I didn’t work but then I got a job for a lady as a housemaid and looking after her children. She had a restaurant in her front room for 5 or 6 people and I’d help with the cooking.
When I was 25, my dad got very sick – I don’t know what was wrong but he had a catheter and I couldn’t care for him – he had sisters at home who could look after him, so he went back.
I was 26 when I left Sudan – life there was so very hard.

My uncle paid for a broker – I don’t know how much. There was 6 of us and we hid in the agent’s house for 4 months waiting for him to organise the trip. The agents are frightened of getting caught – they’d be imprisoned and probably have all their money taken off them. I was the only girl, but the boys were ok. Eventually we got a plane to France with fake passports. The agent had some friends who took us from the airport to a refugee jungle – not Calais. It was Winter, I had never experienced such cold and snow – it was awful. Some of the French people were very kind and brought us food and clothes and shoes – once a week we got a shower in a church. I was there 20 days – every night we would go to the lorry park and try to stowaway in the lorries. People would help us to climb in while the driver was asleep in his cab. It was really frightening – the drivers would wake up and chase us away. Twice I succeeded but was thrown out when I was discovered when the lorry was X-rayed. One night we got in and got across the Channel – 4 boys and 2 girls.

IMG_4834I don’t know where I arrived in the UK but the Police found us in the lorry and we were put in a detention centre. I claimed asylum and was sent to NASS accommodation in Glasgow. I was with an Iranian Girl I’d been in detention with and she was nice and the accommodation was ok.
After 2 months, I got my refugee status, started to work as a packer at Amazon and got council accommodation. The second day in the new place, the neighbours wrote on my wall N*****S OUT. They would put vomit in my doorway – spit on my door – break my windows – try to kick my door in – throw rubbish around my entrance – put fire-works through my letter box – they burnt my name off my door. When I left the house, they would regularly throw urine on me from the flats above. When I saw the N*****S OUT graffiti I was terrified, I called my housing officer, but they advised me not to go to the Police – they were worried that my neighbours would hurt me even more and that the Police wouldn’t be able to protect me.
I lived like this for 2 years and my neighbours never let up. I would come home from work and gangs of youths would be sitting on the stairs, smoking weed and blocking my way – I was too scared to ask them to move and I’d just wait outside until they got bored and moved on. When I asked my housing officer to rehouse me, she gave me a diary to fill in – but I can’t write.
I’d got a new job at a chocolate factory and I was working 7 days a week, but when I do get home I can’t sleep because I’m so frightened. A friend from Church came to visit and they stole his car, drove it away and set light to it. 5 boys I knew got stabbed.

Every day I was getting nose bleeds and headaches because of the stress. My doctor gave me some medicine but she said I couldn’t take it long term – I don’t know what it was, but it did help me sleep for a bit.

I begged them in housing to give me somewhere safe to live, but they just said I’d got a Council House and that’s all they could do. One of them said I should go to the Police, but I was too afraid.

I’d had enough – I got on the train to Euston. I went to Islington Council who said I had to go back to Glasgow – I said no, it’s too dangerous. Within a day, I was in Shelter from the Storm. The volunteers and guests here have been very kind. I’ve been doing English classes and Cookie has helped me find a place of my own – It’s way out and I don’t know anyone there, but it’s got to be better than Glasgow!
My dad is a little better, but I miss him so much. Now I just want to get a job and in the future, I dream of becoming a Nurse.

Liya was too scared to share her picture or any of her home in Glasgow that might identify her

darren

darrenimg_4067

It’s almost 4 years since we helped ex-serviceman Darren access residential support for his substance misuse issues. After years of rough sleeping, he first stayed with us in Christmas 2011 and we now feel he’s part of our SFTS family. Darren visits regularly and volunteers when he can. He is proud to say he’s still sober and living safely and independently in the community – he continues to re-establish a happy relationship with his mum and stepfather. We are so proud and honoured to have played a small part in Darren’s journey of recovery
‘Homelessness is not just for Christmas’
If you’d like to help us help more people like Darren just text:
SFTS01 to 70070 followed by £2, £5 or £10
or go to: http://sfts.org.uk/donations/