Generosity to the Homeless

The other night I didn't make my usual slog through the rush hour. I attended a works do.

I recently completed reading the most excellent book, Stuart a Life Backwards by Alexander Masters. A compelling read, albeit quite sad and poignant. It follows the life of a homeless man called Stuart, explaining to fair extent how he ended up on the street, what life on the street was like and how homeless people can be driven to drugs. It's a fantastic account of the relationship between Alexander and Stuart and if you've not read it yet, I'd advise to do so.

After the works do, despite the free bar I left at quite a reasonable hour - 9.30pm. Knowing that there weren't any trains to rush for and how beautiful the city looked in the dark, I decided to take the scenic and relaxed route through my usually hectic journey home.

Connected to my ipod I walked across the river via footbridge. My favourite bridge. Whenever I miss London it is the image seen from this bridge that is always at the forefront of my mind. That view is 'my London'.

At my slow pace I stopped, lit a cigarette and looked over at the view from the bridge. Beautiful. The solemn, stressed, fast paced walkers I normally shared my journey home with had been exchanged for relaxed laughing groups of people; people analysing a show from the RNT and the mildly drunk and mostly happy.

With a warm alcohol feeling and the lack of stress in the air I smiled at people I walked past on the bridge. At the end of the bridge was a homeless girl. A pretty thing, about the same age as myself, was sat cross-legged crying her eyes out.

Rummaging through my handbag I found a collection of £2 coins. I eagerly gave her one, where she looked up bleary eyed to say thanks. As I exited the bridge down the stairs I look back to see her still sobbing uncontrollably into the sleeves of her mustard coloured jumper.

Continuing my walk under a bridge to Waterloo I came across a cacophony of the more rowdy homeless types. The types that are sat drinking from their cans of cider, slurring contentedly and commenting at those that pass them. Having the clutch of £2 coins in my hand I continued to give them out as I passed. This was met with chirpy "Thanks" and "Have a good journey".

Despite probably having bought crack by the third party, and the fact that I had not done anything truly helpful for them, I had however felt generous to the homeless that evening.