MIKE
I just met 'Mike'.Mike is on the street right now. And he is honestly one of the coolest, sharpest, most switched-on young fellows I have ever met...
I spent a couple of hours on this bitter West London night sitting with him, chatting and laughing. He sat there wrapped in several blankets, eating crisps and regaling me with pearls of wisdom.
He's a handsome lad with piercing Irish blue eyes... in his 20s, sharp as a tack, and completely insightful...
His story unfolded... a sad tale, articulately and thoughtfully told. A tale of bare knuckle boxing (he's a traveller and showed me a few injuries). Wrong decisions. Family betrayal. Turns out he's a nephew of a certain famous celebrity traveller, and shares his surname.
We shared plenty of banter. (I started it... he showed me a toothbrush he had in his inside pocket, and I called him "Top Cat"). I told him he was happier than me, my partner was getting on my nerves, and did he have any spare room under his blankets...?
There was a spirituality about Mike. A depth of feeling and expression.
Mike is clear that he needs to find himself. That his own past moulded him into a man he could no longer identify with. He is estranged from his wife, his child... he lost his livelihood. But he wants to be the man he's supposed to be before he goes back...
Part of me is heartbroken, and now that I'm back in the warmth of home, I'm finding it hard to get him out of my thoughts. In our society, in our world, in this third Millennium, with all its affluence and technology ... no-one should be without food and shelter, whatever other choices they've made.
But I also know that Mike is going to be OK. And we promised to go and have a Guinness together when he's back on his feet.
I was very lucky to have made a new friend today.
