Bag Lady

Sorry Dear, course I'll talk to you, but just at the moment I'm having me tea, just give me a minute.

Right then, thats better, can't concentrate til me probocis is stuffed wi' nectar, I know its sad, yea many people have said that to me,' at your age you should be putting yer feet up, watching East Enders, snug in yer little council flat', I know all that but it didn't work out did it?

Used to have a nice place in Muswell Hill, just two rooms it were, but tidy, owned by Greeks, they was all right, trouble was I lost me job at the launderette and then the lecky bill came in and then I couldn't pay it and then they put the lights out and then the neighbours complained to the landlord about the smell and I had to get rid of the cats and then that big useless lump of a son of mine lost his job too and we didn't pay the rent and then them Greeks wern'y so nice after all.

Damien, my lad, he moved back to Ireland, got a good job as an electrician, they was all going there in the good years. Course my old man was Irish, Kensal Green, but then he got put away for fighting and we had to move again and thats how I ended up sleeping rough.

Its not so bad, if you find a nice quiet corner, I've got a right cosy place, not telling you'se where it is though, no way, you might come and nick me things, what? Take me picture , no way, jose, I don't want no trouble, enough with they young coppers bothering me at night, 'come on Granma ,move on' , I'll give em Granma, just cos I've a few grey hairs now, they think I'm useless, I could tell them a tale or two, anyway maybe I will move back to Ireland some day, you know I have a nice family there, most of them are in Galway and some up in Donegal, the brother he's a builder, but he's got pubs now, bought himself a big mercedy bens he did, but I don't hear much from them, cause its hard what with havin' no address like, the letters get lost. Me sister, Brigit, she wants me to go and live with her but she's awful fond of the church and praying and bathing and that, and that never did anyone any good. I had this boyfriend, Reg,his name was, he was a soldier in Burma in the war, he said to me not to have too many baths cos it brought on the rheumiatism, ye know.

Social services? Feck em, I've been avoiding them for years, tidy ye up, give ye a bath, some new old clothes, but they burnt me winter coat, and they didn't let me take the drink into the hostel, so I had to finish it outside on the step. Weren't my fault that manager fella got a black eye, he laid a hand on me, didn't he?

I think I might go down to Brighton for the winter, it's nice down there and the seaside and that, theres a neat little skip near the front and they are more relaxed ye know, about the refreshments and that.

My age? Hah, don't you worry about that, I'm as old as me tongue and a little bit older than me teeth, the nuns told me that, thats all you need to know and thats all I'm telling ye, so don't ask.

What ye asking all these questions for anyway? The telly?, I'm going to be on the telly?Away you go, will I get paid? Is it one of they talent shows? Britains got a Voice? or Stars in their Heads or whatever, you want me to sing ? I had a lovely voice once, there was this fella, said he could get me in the fillums, asked me to come along and have photos taken, away to feck, I says, "I know your game, I'm not taking me clothes off", might do it now if he asked me again, though. Don't suppose he will.

Right I need to be off, they give out soup at St Bridies at seven o'clock, might get a kip in the crypt if I'm lucky. Right, where's me bags, seven I have, pass me that Tesco carrier, its got me mirror in it, found it down Fulham way, only a bit cracked, bit like me self really.

Nice to talk to you, come and see me anytime, I'm usually here, when I'm not, I'm somewhere else, so you'll always find me. I'm off fer a cup of tea now, found a fifty pee this morning.

My name, well just call me Bernadette, that'll find me, aye ok, see you, where's me trolley now......?



In case anyone thinks I am making fun of the unfortunates who sleep rough, this is based on a true account from Molly, who I met in Muswell Hill in 1972 when I first lived in London. She did indeed have a little flat, a job, and a son, and a little problem with sherry when I first met her, she did indeed live in the dark and lost her flat when her son left her. I don't know what happened to her subsequently, I moved on to Scotland and she drifted who knows where. All I have come to know since is that she is typical of many people who this "caring" society leaves in the gutter as a shame for us all to carry.