London Cold Weather Shelters 2012/13

Caris Islington Churches Cold Weather Shelter  07913 020738
London
Website: bit.ly/ZZiDJ

Winter shelter:
1 January to 31 March:  Monday–Sunday:  7:30pm–8:30am
Bathroom/showers Free food Laundry Outreach workers links
Age 18+; mixed; beds for 15 (separate area for women). Self- or agency referrals – phone first. Simple, genuine hospitality, respite from rough sleeping and an opportunity to engage support services.

Crisis Christmas  0844 251 0111
66 Commercial Street
London E1 6LT
Website: bit.ly/SZPRH

Winter shelter:
23 December to 30 December: Wednesday–Wednesday: Open 24 hours. Accommodation advice Advocacy Bathroom/showers Bedding available Clothing Dentist Education & training Free food Internet access Leisure activities Outreach workers links Pavement stockists. Priority is given for rough sleepers; those with proven dependencies and vulnerable women. Details

Croydon Churches Floating Shelter  07860 270 278
London
Website: bit.ly/dfiI2U

Winter shelter:
1 November to 31 March: Monday–Sunday: 7:30pm–8am. Accommodation advice Food. Local referral only, 18+, mixed, dry, beds for 14, phone is switched off if there are no vacancies. Last admission 8pm.

Hackney Winter Night Shelter  07549 043 728
c/o St John-at-Hackney (office only)
Lower Clapton Road
London E5 0PD
Website: bit.ly/cyR5q

Winter shelter:
1 January to 31 March:  Monday–Sunday: 8pm–8am (7pm on Sundays). Accommodation advice Advocacy Counselling Food Housing advice Outreach workers Outreach workers links Tenancy support. All beds must be reserved, so phone first (you will not be charged for this call) to see if one is available. Age 18+; mixed; beds for 25 (screened area for women); dry. Last admission 8.30pm. Agency or self-referrals. Part of Hackney Doorways.

West London Churches Winter Shelter  020 7351 4948
London
Website: bit.ly/5fteL

1 November to 1 April:  Monday–Sunday: 8pm–7am. Food Housing advice 18+, mixed, dry, beds for 35 (separate area for women), self-referral on a “first come, first served” basis – phone first. Last admission 8pm. Venues in Kensington

West London Day Centre  020 7569 5900
134-136 Seymour Place
London
Website: bit.ly/16BZz7

Monday–Friday: 8:45am–10am (rough sleepers’ drop-in) Monday–Friday: 10am–11:30am (drop-in – hostel residents join) Monday–Thursday: 11:45am–12:45am (advice – appointments only) Monday & Thursday: 1:30pm–3:30pm (drop-in for those with tenancies). Art classes Bathroom/showers Benefits advice Clothing Counselling Food Internet access Laundry Luggage storage Medical facilities Outreach workers links Tenancy support

Westminster Churches Winter Shelter (WCWS)  020 7569 5900
London

1 December to 31 March: Monday–Sunday: 6:30pm–8am. 18+, mixed, beds for 15 (separate area for women), dry, no smoking, and referral from West London Day Centre only.

The Passage
St Vincent’s Centre
Carlisle Place
London SW1P 1NL
info@passage.org.uk

Operate a rolling Shelter.

Diary of a Hostel Worker

New Hostel Family

For the past few weeks we have been home to a local mother fox and her three offspring.

She has had her babies stashed under the garden shed at the back of our beautiful garden. One sunny afternoon whilst snatching a crafty smoke I heard the sound of yapping, and wondered if the neighbours at the back had got a new puppy.

Walking towards the corner,  I caught sight of a small ginger face peeping out from behind our tidy wooden shed. Two wide dark eyes were staring at me intently, a shiny brown nose twitched at my scent. I stood transfixed at the sight of the beautiful, fearless and fluffy fox cub.

The moment was short but sweet. Disturbed by Russell (the crow), the baby face disappeared back behind the shed.

News travelled fast and every recent breakfast has been filled with tales of sightings in the night and at dawn. Surreptitious gifts of chops, bacon and sausage left in the garden have tempted the family into view. This little family has brought delight and enchantment to many.

Thank you Mrs Fox

Diary of a Hostel Worker

On Road Off Road

Many of our residents have poor mobility, walking sticks, crutches and wheelchairs.

Some have body parts amputated.

Others have severe arthritis or rheumatism, exacerbated by uncomfortable nights spent on a hard, cold pavement bed.

Bobby has recently arrived at the hostel. He spent many years on the street sleeping rough – and so has his son. Bobby suffers from violent involuntary movements, as yet undiagnosed. He is unable to stand and has, up to now, propelled himself from place to place by sitting in his wheelchair and using his feet in a haphazard walking fashion. His feet also serve serve as a slightly unreliable braking system.

Enter the mobility scooter.

State of the art transport – this scooter is shiny and fast – Bobby’s eyes pop out of his head and the hugest smile in the world spreads across his face. Everbody comes to have a look. Metallic blue with curved go-faster lines, very impressive.

Bobby receives instruction so that he meets Health & Safety standards ! I’m not so sure he is listening as acutely as would ideally be desired. However a few trial laps in the car park help to allay anxiety. By gripping hold of the handlebars extra tightly, Bobby is able to control his spasming muscles and steer pretty much in the right direction. Breaking is a little more worrying. We hold our breath as Bobby’s concentrated fingers struggle to relax enough to work the controls. Just in time the scooter stops suddenly a few inches from the manager’s car.

The next day Bobby is raring to go – and we watch with fingers crossed as the scooter’s rear lights disappear around the corner.

Many, many hours later Bobby returns. With a shout he alerts us to his presence and I move to open the front door.

He has managed to get back but, by the look of it, not quite in one piece. The front bumper is trailing to one side, secured by a short length of electrical wiring. New shininess has been overtaken by dents and scratches. I look at Bobby who appears to be in one piece, thank heavens. He is highly intoxicated but sheepish. With the help of another worker we maneuvre the machine, with Bobby balanced on top in through the doors and into the foyer.

“I had a bit of an accident”

Bobby’s speech is usually slurred but tonight its hardly comprehensible.

“Brakes failed and I ran into a wall”

We check Bobby over and apart from an impending huge hangover in the morning, all seems ok. Bobby transfers his trembling body into the safety of his basic wheelchair, and scoots off to his room.

PS With absolutely no recall of the events of the previous night, Bobby tells me this morning that he must have bumped his electric scooter into the door of his bedroom as it seems to be a bit broken.

He also asks for 2 Paracetamol !

“When my scooter’s fixed I think I might go to Bournemouth on it” he announces.

 

 

Diary of a Hostel Worker

The Big Society – Can We Afford It?

Reality check day. Seems we are to be facing big cuts soon……… staff redundancies are imminent. A difficult day all round.

Teatime comes and with it a snaking line of clients move inevitably towards the meal trolley, where cook is  efficiently serving an appetising and healthy meal. It is a patient line today and the gentle hum of conversation and clanking of cutlery lulls me for a moment. My mind wanders and I imagine a different scene – I see a faded and cloudy vision of homeless people queuing, not in a pleasant and warm dining room, but instead under a cold and lifeless grey winter sky, swept by the elements

frightened and hungry.

I visualise Church volunteers and selfless individuals distributing blankets and sandwiches in a united effort to tempt life to remain amongst old bones and shattered minds…………….

I feel uncomfortable and firmly bring my attention back to the here and now.

What shape will the future form for our most needy and defenceless members of ‘The Big Society’?

Human beings forged by social policies that have contributed to their current predicament ………greedy profits stacked up by manufacturers of health killing alcoholic beverages designed to subordinate and overpower ……….breakdown of relationships> families ripped apart by media (and government) promoted “grass is always greener” ideology………’no society’ support following bereavement, depression, stress, illness, trauma or financial ruin………………

 

One man turns round and looks directly at me. It’s almost as if he senses the pain of my thoughts. I see trust in his eyes, a belief there will always be one of us workers there to support him in time of need.

As he walks past me holding tightly to his plate, he slows for a moment and brings his mouth to my ear.

“I don’t think I would still be alive if I hadn’t been rescued from the streets and brought here” he mutters.

 

We are one society – not big,  not small.

And what may be said of a society that turns its back on the most vulnerable of its members?

Serial 999

Last year I wrote about “the wall”, a favourite local haunt of local hostel clients and rough sleepers. The wall is situated next to a very dodgy off licence which is well known for giving tick and selling out of hours. For the past few months this shop of horrors has been closed. Whether it was due to a prolonged attack of vandalism – all windows have been pelted with stones and are cracked and shattered – or attributable to some other reason, is unclear. A small notice stuck to the front door of the shop informs that the owner will be reopening soon and is applying for a license extension  to sell alcohol far into the early hours of the morning.

The phrase “over my dead body” comes to mind.

Near “the wall” is a bus stop and a telephone box, and this is where i find myself on a recovery mission. There has been word one of our clients is requesting an ambulance from this location and i hurry to find out what is going on.

J is a serial 999’er. In one month alone he cost the NHS £10,000 calling out London Ambulance Services. After a visit from the community matron and the threat of making him pay the bill, he has curbed his habit. There has been much discussion at the hostel about this behaviour and continued attempts to minimise false alarms. It seems alcohol is always involved. There are aspects of attention seeking, panic attacks, overly concerned members of the public trying to help. Whatever the cause, long suffering paramedics deal with these types of call more frequently than any other, on a daily basis.

I reach the telephone box and see J inside with the handset pressed to his ear. As I pull open the heavy door he turns to face me. He is speaking with the emergency dispatcher but the only words coming out of his mouth are “help me”. His voice is thready and slurred. He is really really intoxicated. It’s obvious he has been drinking superstrength lager – this never happens when he sticks to lighter beers. Cans of 9% strength seem to always result in an emergency call out.

As soon as J sees me he looks incredibly guilty. I take the receiver and introduce myself to the dispatcher. I explain the situation and she cancels the call. J tells me he had a funny turn. There are two empty cans on the ground and a half drunk can of Super Skol in his pocket but still J tries to convince me he is sober. His face is bright red and words tumble from his lips in a jumbled slurring confusion.

Apart from intoxication he is in ok shape, so we set off back to the hostel. Six steps later we are surrounded by emergency services. An ambulance, a car, both on full blue lights and sirens scream to a halt beside the pavement. The cancellation has come too late. We approach the EMT with J looking well ashamed.

An apology seems insufficient but it is all we have to offer.

Diary of a Hostel Worker

From Blue to Green

Unbelievably a fellow worker and myself find ourselves with a couple of hours free from shift tasks. There is no contest when it comes to deciding whether to spend this time catching up on washing or taking a trip out in the hostel car.

Some of our residents find it difficult to get out and we think about those affected by advancing years and limited mobility. Being stuck indoors looking at the same four walls has a potentially depressing effect and in some quarters the post Christmas low has started creeping in.

My colleague fires up the engine and positions our car ready to load up. There is a tangle of walking frames and crutches which will need to come with us. Stiff old joints creak and groan as ageing limbs fold to fit in the available space.

Seat belts secured we load the CD player, up the volume and set off for our spin.

Although traffic is heavy we are blissfully unaffected – music rocking – the mood is elevated and content. One particularly observant passenger gives a running commentary triggered by road signs and shop fronts lining the route. His train of thought is convoluted and hard to follow – dementia  clouding the possibility of conclusion. I feel glad he was given a place in the car. I can sense the life flowing back into his body, stimulation sparking his grey matter, he is hungry for the experience.

We turn from the main route and head towards a local beauty spot. The houses here are huge and eyes are popping with incredulity. For people who have been sleeping rough a large part of their life, equating their misfortune with the decadence of those more fortunate can be an uncomfortable experience.

We motor past a large and expensive private clinic which, on identification, triggers an aural flow of past detox and rehab memories. Although some tales are of failure, many are tinged with humour and personal achievement.

Suddenly the landscape opens up and we pass through a wrought iron edged gateway. Previously jaded eyes widen and take in the natural beauty. There is untempered excitement as we pass close to a herd of deer, a large stag proudly silhouetted against the winter sky.

One resident, Carl sighs gently,

“I wonder why I feel so peaceful when I look at deer? ” He questions.

There is no need for reply.

Later we stop for refreshements, hot coffee all round.

Sitting at our table I look at the faces surrounding me.  Smiles are everywhere,  tired worn wrinkles miraculously vanished, I realise depression is banished for now at least.

“It’s started to rain” someone says.

We don’t care, we have had our moment.