Play

So, I went to the theatre this evening. This time to see Caryl Churchill's new 10-minute play 'Seven Jewish Children: A Play For Gaza' at the Royal Court, London. As you can imagine, a play like this is bound to cause controversy, and I was intrigued to make up my own opinion by seeing it.

In the meantime, I got to the theatre far too early and wasn't meeting people until later, so decided to walk down the Kings Road. A homeless man, young, maybe in his late twenties or early thirtes, came up to me and asked me to buy a copy of the Big Issue. I often by the magazine, and also donate to the charity Shelter, but I do think it's important to buy from badged vendors - this guy was not. So, I walked on by, saying I had no change. It was a lie, but I guess we say it all the time. Times are tight, we all have bills to pay, I'm on my own, my salary is pathetic, I have loads of debt already. I'm far from loaded. These are the excuses I say to myself.

As I was aimlessly walking, window shopping, I ended up passing the homeless man again. He asked me again if I had any spare change. And once again, I shook my head, said no. Walked on.

As I was walking back up to the theatre, having dawdled for 15 minutes, the homeless man appeared again. Any change?, he asked. Again, for the third time, I shook my head. Sorry, I said. And I walked on. But as I did, I smiled to myself that he had asked me three times and each time I said no and each time he didn't realised he had already asked me. Then I heard: 'It's not funny you know, this isn't funny - I'm trying to find somewhere to stay the night.'

I've never felt more ashamed. I stopped, called back: 'I wasn't laughing at you, I promise. It's just you've asked me three times. I would buy the Big Issue - and I normally do - but I don't have any change...' He said ok, shrugged. Walked away. I walked on. I felt so embarrassed. So rude. To laugh - even though I wasn't laughing at him or his situation, it seemed like I had. My disregard for his life, my self absorption. I can't believe I didn't just give him some money.

Rummaging in my bag, I found a few pounds, and turned around to find him. He wasn't there. So I ran down the road, trying to find him. Already wording my lame apology, my sudden luck at finding a few quid, how I hadn't meant to be rude.

But I didn't find him. And I turned up at the theatre still clutching the coins. Still hoping he would appear and I could ease my conscience. But he didn't.

--------------------------

Before the encounter, I looked down a side street and saw these statues of a boy leap-frogging over a post and a girl sitting, contemplating. I snapped a pic.

----------------------------

At the end of the night, after a thought-provoking play, too complex to go into, but difficult to watch and also eye-opening, I thought of the homeless man again. I thought about war in faraway countries, I thought about people just trying to live through the day.

Innocent children playing. What a luxury we shouldn't take for granted.