Lifeshare

I spent part of today working at Lifeshare, a Christmas drop-in centre for homeless people.
Today is Christmas Eve, a big shopping (and therefore begging) day in town, so numbers were nowhere near what they will be over the next five days - but they still managed to pack in up to 40 people for breakfast, lunch, television and games like table tennis.
A stylist from one of Manchester's big hairdressing salons gave free cuts, a doctor was on hand and a podiatrist gave her services voluntarily to anyone who needed them. Second hand clothes of all types were given out to anyone who put in an order and meals were cooked by qualified chefs, one of whom used to work at the exclusive Midland Hotel.
I'm not sure quite who or what I expected to see down there but what struck me was the diversity of people who came along. There were quite a few who were clearly heroin addicts - all sunken cheeks, scabs and vacant, wide eyes - but the majority didn't appear to be users. Several were really quite old, one man I'm told has been using their services throughout the 18 years he's been homeless, but others were young, down on their luck and will hopefully sort themselves out soon.
Experts say it only takes three weeks of living on the streets to get stuck in that way of life, but many of the people who use Lifeshare aren't rough sleepers. Some are staying at hostels, in temporary B&B type accomodation, on friends' floors or have bedsit or other accomodation but are simply lonely. Several were dressed more smartly and looked cleaner than many of the volunteers.
It's both fascinating and sobering to learn how little twists of fate can lead people down a particular path and onto the streets - be it bereavement, substance abuse, violence in the home, leaving the services or prison, or whatever.
All too often we walk past the beggar or the Big Issue seller on the street, looking through them as if to stop us feeling guilty that we are okay and they are not. It always shocks me how many otherwise intelligent, liberal people will spout nonsense about how it's their own fault for getting onto heroin, or how Big Issue people make loads of money.
Perhaps it's just more convienient for us to ignore these people. Because - as I've found out today - once you get chatting to them you quickly realise most are articulate, bright, funny and cheeky. They are as human, flawed and sensitive as the rest of us. The scary thing is that quite often it's a case of "there but by the grace of God". Whatever's gone wrong in their lives, and pushed them down to where they are right now, could quite easily have happened to any of us.