Broken Britain

A couple of years ago, in a homeless shelter, I met a young man, a boy really, who really seemed to exemplify 'broken Britain'.

He said he was 17, but I didn't believe him; you had to be 16 to get into the shelter (otherwise social services have to be notified) so I think he was playing it safe.

He wasn't particularly clean, but not massively unkempt. He seemed really suspicious about everybody around him. He had shortish brown hair, and was quite tall and skinny, and had really wonky front teeth.

He was living in a squat somewhere. As we chatted, he seemed to loosen up, probably because we were a similarish age. He was from Plymouth where he'd been living with his mum, but had moved to London a couple of years ago to live with his dad - he didn't say why he made this change.

It seemed that he hadn't really liked London, had struggled here a bit and missed his mates, and at some point he'd gone back to his mum in Plymouth. But again, that hadn't worked out so he'd come back to London but not told his dad. He spoke to his mum from time to time. He told me he makes around £40 a day - he didn't say what from, but I guess it must have been drugs or stealing. I asked if his mum asks how he's earning that money - he's told her he works on building sites.

That was about 2 or 3 years ago - he's one of those people that I have a horrible feeling about, that he's dead or in prison or has descended into doing terrible things to other people. Hopefully not.