The mid to the late 80s, the daily run from the apartment near the Elephant and Castle took me to Waterloo Bridge and down to Cardboard City and on across the bridge and along the Embankment towards the Mall and the grotesque absurdity that is Buckingham Palace. “Oh, she’s got bags of room,” I thought, and, “in an ideal world a lot of the homeless could move in there.” Well, they didn’t, of course, but Cardboard City did sort of just go away, and where did the people move to?
Well, back in ‘Blighty’ and the problem is most certainly still there even if those without a roof are no longer allowed to congregate en mass. Along Chester’s city walls and the marathon man of yesterday drifts at walking pace down into the underpass, and there they are, only two of them, and out of sight, out of mind and I bet you’ll find them up and down the country, from Dover to Dundee.
Nice to get them at least scattered about the place, no more Cardboard Cities, don’t want them staring us in the face and that is what you have these days and it’s all a wee bit three monkey like; you have got all these problems but they seem to think if they cannot see them, close their ears to them, and, if they do talk about them, deny the nature of them, …… well life is just hunky-dory in middle England, or that is what they would have you believe.