In this blog post I want to talk about a very strange time in my life (in 2018) when I ran away from my home (parent’s house) in Oban. I was initially sleeping in a tent up on a hill in the woods in Oban but after a while I decided to get the bus to London. Why I did this is a question in itself but London was the last place I had had proper employment before I had gone abroad. And I was born in London and have always had a bit of an attachment to the place (I think a lot of people like London).

I guess to head to London with only £50 or so is pretty delusional. Nowadays you usually require accommodation to get a job. Usually to get accommodation the landlord or landlady requires 3 months (or more) plus a months rent for a deposit. I know this because I have stayed in Cheltenham and also in Greenford, London in 2011 and 2012 (respectively) as a lodger.

Anyway I used my concessionary bus pass to get to Glasgow from Oban and immediately got a Megabus to London. Around this time I was in a very lonely and bad place. An anonymous Reddit user called Tan Guan occasionally gave me tips but really my mind was a complete mess, not to mention struggling to understand things from being neurodiverse also.

I remember getting a Burger King in London Victoria train station with the last bit of my money and then walking around the vicinity miserably wondering what on earth I was going to do. At that time I didn’t know about the homeless drop in centres that exist in cities across the UK such as the Passage (I will later talk about it). I had a very sheltered upbringing in Oban. Anyway I was also smoking back then (tobacco but also cannabis). I think I sat down by the door of St Vincents church (which I visited a few years later when I was well). I can’t remember the exact dialogue or scenario but one kind beggar told me about the Passage. It felt like an act of God. At my very moment of total weakness a kind extending hand was put my way. The next day I had an appointment with some sort of staff member at the Passage and I was introduced to the homeless drop in centre. There was a load of mobile phones (like loads and loads) sticking out of the plugs. I was uneasy about charging my phone and ipad there in case it got stolen. There were lots of grumpy old men beggars, there were two crazy Irish crack addicts (I saw them smoke it later in front of me), there was lots of ethnic minorities, there was a Nigerian lady with all her luggage who lost her paperwork and cried for hours one day. 

I slept by the door of St Vincents during the night and had some pretty good sleeps. There was various beggar characters (one guy who shoplifted whiskey and shared it out with us, others who gave advice about the best times of when to beg). Of course the whole time I was very uneasy, anxious and scared. There were kids on bicycles offering me to join their drug gang. Early on the police came and told me the whole area was what’s called ‘a hotspot.’ There was a black woman who went about ‘preaching’ God’s message, she basically just shouted at bystanders. She was actually quite kind to me, buying me Pret a Manger breakfasts a few times, she had her benefits sort out unlike me. There was a Mexican lady who wore a full Burqa who asked me to accompany her to some sort of official meeting (I think she wanted to immigrate into the country). I declined this request of course, the officials would think we were together. I remember I had a fair beard at the time. It was a weird sort of time, we all shared tobacco, alcohol. Some were taking pills (and offering them to me) and I was offered crack cocaine on one occasion, and there was a new drug called ‘spice’ which I had never heard of that was synthetic cannabis. There were all manner of characters. The saying goes ‘if you’re tired of London, you are tired of life!’

I remember getting into an old squabble with an old beggar, a black older lady came over and asked me where I was born: “London.” “Which part?” “Hounslow.” Then she explained that the old man considered me to be begging in his spot and that was why he was annoyed. It was a weird moment when I felt part of something. Somebody considered me to be one of their own.

I have so many experiences like this around the time that I can’t put them all to words.

There were rare moments of calmth amongst the chaos, euphoric feelings even sometimes that one was reluctant to enjoy because of the endless uncertainty and potential danger.

I was even beaten physically by the 2 Irish one time and some of the beggars and security guards demanded I clean up my blood. It was spoiling the pavement they said! 

All in all I think I stayed 2 or 3 weeks sleeping rough in front of St Vincent’s (I think it was spring) and using the Passage hanging around with all manner of unemployed, addicts, people down on their luck, opportunists and mentally unwell.