One night I was woken up by a Garda, by him booting me in the ribs, because, he said, `I can't be arsed bending down and I don't like touching shit with my hands!'
My name is David and I am homeless. I was asked to
write a piece on the reason for my situation and my
experiences of being homeless. This is it. I am sorry
if it comes across as a sob story, it isn't
meant to and I am not looking for sympathy or for
people to feel sorry for me. As it is things are
looking up for me at last but it probably does come
across that way because after a long time spent
thinking about it, there aren?t many good things that
I can say about it.
Contrary to popular belief homeless people haven't brought the situation on themselves and do not choose to live that way, as is the case with me. After my mother passed on, I decided that I wanted to get away from Liverpool and go back to my home country of Ireland, (having left when I was six or seven because my Mum and Dad split up, my Mum being from Liverpool she took me back to be with her parents.) as I had no family left there, being born an only child and late on in my parents life (my Father had passed on two years earlier and I had no family in Ireland either.) I had nothing to keep me there and I felt I needed a change.
Continue to the rest of the story.
Threshold
has some
good resources which indicate that if David were
to wait for "social housing" he could wait as long as
12 years. |
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