Four Feet Under: Thirty untold stories of homelessness in London by Tamsen Courtenay

Author:Tamsen Courtenay [Courtenay, Tamsen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781783525706
Publisher: Unbound
Published: 2018-08-22T18:30:00+00:00

The bed Brock makes every night with all his artwork on display

It’s actually getting to me now, and, sat here … and I don’t sleep well at nights … zoom, zoom, zoom [indicating endless traffic], noise, constant … I can literally have a footfall this close [showing about two inches with his thumb and forefinger] as I’m sleeping.

So how many hours of consecutive sleep would you get?

Not many.

But you have to let your defences down, to sleep – how do you do that?

Carefully. Well, you don’t do it, basically. You don’t do it. I actually trip.

Yeah, the hallucinations come from sleep deprivation.

Yeah, yeah and I realise that. I can sit here and see things that I know they’re not there, when I’m that exhausted.

When do you beg?

Prime begging time is when the pubs kick out and everybody is pissed.

Oh, really? I would have thought that was a horrible time ’cos they are all drunk and horrible.

Yep … they’re all drunk and loose with their money!

What’s being homeless like for you, for Brock?

[long silence] The worst is loneliness, probably. I’m a loner at heart, but I am a social loner, a bit of a recluse, but I like to socialise as well.

What does loneliness feel like?

I don’t know how I would explain it, to be honest … I get kind of uptight, then kind of withdraw, and I get very snappy. I bark, I bite and then I apologise.

Why didn’t you bite me, or snap at me, when I pitched up and frightened the bloody life out of you?

Because I was in a good mood!

I was just thinking – if a perfect stranger walked into my house and said ‘Hi! Can I come and talk to you about your life …’

It’s not really my house …

… I would say, ‘Fuck off.’ Why did you say, ‘Yes’ to a stranger like me, why would you want to talk to someone like me?

Because it’s talking, isn’t it?

I actually had a sign out – it’s gone now – that said, ‘Homeless. Ex-army. Donations towards a hot meal/hot drink etc. welcome. Or just smile and say hello. Or just say hello.’ Half the time, we get ignored. We are invisible. And that’s frustrating.

What does it feel like to be invisible?

You feel very small … very, very small.

[I offered him a smoke and we talked briefly about the cost of cigarettes, which are pennies in Italy but in the UK you don’t seem to get much change from a tenner for a single packet of twenty …]

I smoke dog-ends.

That’s a bit grim. [We both sat in a sad silence for a moment or two.] How would you describe your character?

Quite happy-go-lucky, outgoing, good judge of character … erm … vulnerable … but I put a ‘front’ on it, I have got a ‘front’.

But we all have to do that, because otherwise I think we would not be able to get up in the morning.

I always back away from a fight, although I know what I can do, which is why I don’t fight.

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