I met a street man tonight waiting for the free soup and rolls I was dispensing. He wore plastic beech sandals and a pink ladies summer jacket. He was about 30 with short cropped black hair and a deep voice that belied his young age. He thanked me for bothering to feed him and his fellow street sleepers. He told me that his wife was in the Western General with breast cancer. Last month his best friend had been found dead in a skip having taken false valium and before that his mother had suddenly dropped dead. He “said he has cracked up and went mental” and ended up living on the streets . He was not a beggar but someone who had a bad throw of the dice.
He told me he was not used to living on the streets. He said he was freezing and soaking and asked if we had a sleeping bag or some warm clothes. Usually I would have such clothes with me but in keeping with covid restrictions we had been banned from giving out clothes.
I explained this to the guy who looked at me in incredulously. I knew what he was thinking : at least when he was freezing to death he would be safe from the unlikely possibility of catching covid.
This, in short, just about sums up the madness and lack of context that surrounds covid.