Sweet-toothed Dawn in a not so sweet situation

This evening, on my way along Victoria Street to Victoria station, I saw a woman sitting next to a Pret in a sleeping bag. I had been walking along thinking how freezing my fingers were, so when I saw her I stopped and asked if she wanted a sandwich or anything. It must be horrible to be out in this cold and insanely windy weather.

She said she had stitches in her mouth and pulled at her lip with spiny dirt-covered fingers to show me, and asked for a capuccino, which I brought out to her with loads of sugar - something I've learnt over the years of working with homeless people or doing this sort of ad hoc thing is that they invariably have an extremely sweet tooth.

She started talking about a hostel around the corner that she'd been offered a bed in by "outreach workers", but she couldn't get the bed because they were asking for a service charge of £8. She's been on the streets for 3 months now, taking showers occasionally at a day centre. That means she's been sleeping rough all over Christmas, through the harshest time in our climate. She was extremely thing - huddled up in multiple jumpers and jackets, with just tiny bird-like wrists and those dirty fingers sticking out, and cheekbones jutting out of her face. I'm not sure how old she was, 30s or 40s. She said she is from Wales, and came up to London with "a man" who proceeded to beat her, hence the stitches. She ran away from him 3 months ago and since then has been living rough. Her parents are dead and she doesn't know anyone in London.

She was very worried about the hostel. She said that if she didn't pay the service charge, she wouldn't be allowed in, and would lose the chance of a bed for the next 8 weeks. She seemed to think that the reason they were charging her was to check she was serious about wanting the bed, which sounded like a very odd policy to me.
The hostel was St Mungo's (not to be confused with the Harry Potter institution), and once I've published this, I'll be getting in touch with St Mungo's to see if this is really their policy, or if she was spinning me a tale in the hope of striking eight pounds worth of gold.

Soup runs: a poisoned broth?

In today's Evening Standard, the free newspaper in London, there's an article called "Do soup runs harm rough sleepers?"


[click here to read it]


It asks whether soup kitchens are actually creating more problems than they solve. The councillors of Westminster want to outlaw soup runs, because they say it attracts homeless people to the area.

[click here to read about Westminster council's homelessness strategy]


Apparently, Westminster Council proposed banning soup runs across the whole of London in 2007 but were unsuccessful.

That argument in itself is fairly disgusting; perhaps rather than pushing the problem into another borough, they could work out why the people are homeless in the first place (there are roughly 1600 rough sleepers in Westminster per annum). Other newspapers are choosing this angle, pointing out that Westminster is one of the richest council's in the country, behaving as a reverse Robin Hood.

But interestingly, the prestigious St Mungo's (which itself began as a soup run in 1969) and Thames Reach, both London homelessness charities, are also backing this new ban. They say 'food handouts serve to keep people on the streets longer'.

Thames Reach has an article from 2007 on its site, written by their Chief Executive Jeremy Swain called "The Problem with Soup Runs". (click here to read it)

Jeremy's basic argument is that services aimed at rough sleepers ought to be more comprehensive than a basic handout of food: that they out to be brought indoors, where advice on accomodation and work etc can be properly given. This is clearly an ideal to be aimed for.

But the banning of soup runs goes against a gut instinct of those of us with a Home Address. It is a visible sign of charity; a mealtime easing of hardship and of the conscience of those of us with a fridge full of food at a place we call 'home'. This quandary is much like the International Aid question: a lot of aid clearly contributes to corruption, with figures proving this, and continued lack of improvement in countries where huge sums are flooding in. But does that mean we can comfortably turn the other cheek?

For me, the answer is this: we can't turn the other cheek, but we can coordinate and clarify our actions and aims. Very few people, except severely mentally ill cases, actually want to sleep rough (especially through the winter). With that as a basic premise, one can assume that soup runs alleviate some immediate discomfort, but with that soup needs to come a menu for escape from the streets.