Categories: uncategorized
Tags: foundspeech
Date: 13 August 2007 00:46:38
Said to me today.
"...he put his bleeding strawberry tart into that gig"
"...everybody's got a manor"
Both said by the same man, call him M, who I bumped into in a pub in Lewisham. Used to know him a long time ago. Not really know him. Friend of a friend. We recognised each other, though couldn't remember names. He used to go to Lewisham Labour Club, when it had a bar. We talked about people we used to know for a while. "Do you remember X?" "Whatever happened to Y?" "They've got a kid now"
M is in a bad way. Homeless, mentally ill, alcoholic (his self-description). Says he's sleeping in a park
And I feel guilty. Because I decided the moment I met him that I'm not going to offer him a floor to sleep on. That I'm not going to ask him back to my place. That I'm not goign to give him money if he asks for it. Not that he did ask for any of those things - this is mostly in my head. Is this Christian charity? Is this going the extra mile? Buying an alcoholic a couple of pints of Guiness? Because I think I have my own problems. Because I have a daugher who lives with me in our little flat and she has her own problems, so I can use my duty to care for her as an excuse not the help someone else. I've done that before.
Years and years ago when she was still small a man knocked on the door on a snowy night. He wasnt dressed for outdoors. Very light clothes, little more than pyjamas. It was well below freezing and show was falling. I invited him in and gave him some tea and beans on toast. I was making it anyway. He said he had escaped from a mental hospital.
But I ended up asking him to leave. More or less forcing him to leave. My daughter was asleep in the next room. I was not going to go to sleep myself with him there in the same house as her. I said I would phone someone for him. Call the hospital, call a doctor, call the police, anyone. He said there was no-one and in the end I made him go. Because, or at least partly because, he engaged some of my prejudices (not ones I'll list on the Net where Nothing is Forgotten). And I've felt guilty ever since. Well, I have on the rare occasions I've remembered it.
And M (who did not ask for more than I drink but I instantly found myself thinking how I would react if he did) engages some of the same prejudices. I defend myself. He said he was sleeping in the park, but he must have somewhere to go, at least to leave some stuff. His clothes did not look or smell like those that have been slept in for days (his breath, on the other nostril...) He wasn't toting bags, like people who sleep in the street often do.
But, but... WWJD? Don't ask me, but I heard a sermon on the Good Samaritan this morning. So I can guess.