Our New Neighbour

It is the end of non-working lockdown for me. I am moving back to the land of the working folk. I don't know how I feel about the statistics we are being given and whether or not we are any safer than when I was directed not to work. My place of employment has shown itself to be trustworthy and have put their staff and children first, so in terms of personal risk - I am happy to be returning to usefulness and to be with the aspect of humanity I still quite like, children.

Due to a reoccurring ankle injury I have not run for 16 days so I am, in effect,  pegged down to a small vicinity. I have been making efforts to change my small area for the better, the weather has helped - litter picking in your street is always nicer when the sun is on your back. Thanks to a very speedy response from Leeds city council, a fly-tipped couch and various items of rubbish have been removed from the street making it easier and more satisfying to clear the smaller bits of rubbish. We have also had our green bin collected on a regular basis, after a very long period of no collection. I am also on a mission to be on at least 'Hi' basis with the various neighbours we have who live in the shared accommodation opposite us. There is one very amenable young woman who I have progressed to 'Hi, are you alright?' but the rest are harder nuts to crack. I am planning on grinning at them until they summit, that and using my Jedi mind tricks.

We have a new neighbour, a local drug addict who has camped up on some grassland out the front of the house. At this present time, I am fighting my instincts and calling the more supportive numbers - but if I am honest I would like him to be moved on.  I have been told by a reliable source that all homeless in Leeds have been offered accommodation so we can only assume that those left have refused. Or have behaviour that does not coincide with the accommodation on offer.  I worked in homeless hostels before I was a primary school teacher. There is part of me that understands the injustice around being an addict and finding it near impossible to hang on to accommodation. At the point I was working with the homeless, we were not allowed to offer any one taking drugs a room. Without a safe place to stay it is near on impossible to tackle the issues around being an addict. But then again, addicts are particularly hard to offer assistance to. This particular man is known to the support agencies and the police, and he has refused assistance. He asks me for change often and when I tell him I don't carry money at this time he gets cross. After responding to his murmuring that no-one would give him money for pop, I offered him a can, he refused. I suspect, thirst is a long way down the list of needs for him. His 'accommodation' is littered with various drug paraphernalia and he is shooting up within metres of my daughter's bedroom. He is canny enough not to leave needles but doesn't hide the tops, spoons or packages. He tosses aside the coppers he receives, and when I did a quick count up there was enough to buy a cheap can of pop. He asks me for change whilst I try and make my front garden a better place. No matter where my sympathies lie, there is no denying addicts are hard to live with and I cannot pretend I feel particularly safe with our new neighbour.

One of the saddest things I have encountered is the rapid dehumanisation of an ex-addict I knew from the hostel where I worked. He was an ex-addict when I encountered him and he was handsome, charming and intelligent. If he had not been my 'client' I could have considered him someone I would have liked to be my friend. I saw him again years later, relocated from the streets of the Wirral to the streets of Leeds, grovelling about like Gollum after 'his precious'- I never knew him as an addict and it was not easy to encounter- my heart broke. I tried to catch his eye, I was willing to try and talk but his eyes had no recognition, even to his surroundings,. Regrettably, I was shy and cowardly and did not make great efforts to reach out and I stepped away. I thought perhaps I would see him again and summon courage, I never saw him again. On the other side I was fortunate to work with several ex-addicts who, once they rediscovered their humanity, became the most self-less, bright shining, wise people I have ever been fortunate to meet. I miss their influence in my life. I think I have grown cynical and cannot see past the wrecks of humanity I witness on the street. I have to remind myself, that they were children once.