Street Life

As well as the melanin deprived, shirtless pregnant men and park exhibitionists, summer seems to increase the number of ‘care in the community’ (CITC) (see mental health cases) cases on the streets of London. Usually dressed in layers of grime encrusted clothes, holding a tin of something liquid, legal and powerful usually called White Lightning accompanied by a small well-fed dog.

I’ll be honest, I never give them any money. Although I was tempted to give this old Chinese guy we saw in Putney something because he reminded me of my Dad. Clarke accused me of being racist. She pointed out that if he were the usual white male beggar I wouldn’t want to give him any money, it was just because he is Chinese. She did have a point.

One of my favourite stories is one my mum tells about walking past some boys who were begging money close to Guy Fawkes day (Nov 5th). Back in the 70s, kids would beg for money to buy stupidly powerful fireworks that sometimes ended up exploding in their hands or the faces of people on road. It was a legitimate enterprise, but obviously not one I was ever allowed to do. As my mum walked past them, these boys said: ‘Penny for the guy, penny for the guy’ without pause she replied: “I’ve got two guys of my own waiting for me at home.” I just love that story. It kinda sums up my own attitude. So as one of the few Londoners who has avoided the street mugging, and sexual or racial assault, I only open my purse to shopkeepers.

So a few days I'm 'promenading' near the local shops. It was around 8.30pm, but it was a balmy London evening, just beautiful. It was one of those moments where you just experience pure happiness. The weather is good, you're not wearing five layers of dark clothing that makes you hot on the train and look two sizes bigger, instead you're wearing a little dress and you're tanned and healthy looking.

Then, out of nowhere this wild-eyed yout ‘ appears. He’s all in my grill, grinning like a sleazy politician and says: “You’re mine, you’re mine.” Ah hell fucking no I'm not. First of all, you stink, and secondly, you look cracked the fuck out. Of course I just said: "No, I'm not." And shrank back as he got closer to my bright white shorts with his grimey self. I tried to side-step him. But he kept blocking my path. He was so close I could smell the stench of weeks, make that months without 'hol'ing a fresh' emanating from him and see the grime that caked his dark, heavy clothing. As I tried to back away from him, he just kept moving closer and closer to me. I didn’t want to touch him, but had to as he bore down on me with his overbearing self. My finger was all that separated us. This motherfucker looked trigger happy, I couldn't get away from him without running. I started to get worried.

Feigning confidence I said: “I’m going to stand still, and you’re going to back up and give me my space.” I stood still, but he kept coming towards me, I couldn't get past him and just felt this intense fear that he was going to touch me. Intimately. I shouted: “CAN SOMEBODY PLEASE HELP ME!” Out of nowhere (ok he was standing near Blockbusters) this Irish guy came flying towards me, and took control of the situation. He asked me where I was going, took my arm and walked with me. The Winston Silcott looking Somali yout’ tried to follow, so the Irish guy went right up in his face pressing his forehead against the other guy's, showing him he was not intimidated. I pulled him away, I was afraid he would get hurt, and that stink yout' might have a knife. My legs were like jelly, and I was close to tears. In those few moments I felt completely vulnerable. I know he would have assaulted me if I hadn’t called out for help.

Of course people were walking past like I could possibly be having a lovers tiff with someone who smelt like Pig Pen and who's face favoured Stig of the Dump. Irish guy (quite fit I might add - obviously I was not too upset to notice) and his lovely Zimbabwean girlfriend (shame) walked me back to my bike which was locked up at the net café. The guys in the net cafe said 'Stig' had assaulted a woman earlier in the week.

I called the police.

They never came.