Early dawn woke me up and I found myself in the subway of Monument underground station. I was shaking as the freezing wind bit my face. The night seemed to have passed quickly and abruptly. I grabbed my rucksack and made my way out of the subway, feeling very uncomfortable. I was desperate for a wee.
It cost thirty pence to drop a penny in the nearest public toilets. But I had no idea how I could afford it. So, as the sun came up my day began with another struggle with basic human personal needs. The kind of needs you can never sacrifice or escape. I started looking for a toilet, keeping the agony timidly inside me and doing all I could to make sure it didn't show up on my face.
At that moment my memory sprang to life and soon I was heading towards the facilities at a famous burger chain. Unable to find a bush in the urban jungle, this seemed like the next best option. All the while I was chastising this era of modern and abusive development. I could smell the cruelty of capitalism. Thirty pence to spend a penny! Yes it was a hasty conclusion about class and standards here in the UK. But I was desperate.
At last I found the magic M. I went in clumsily and asked politely if I could use the toilet. To my great surprise the burger flipper told me that it was only for customers. He called me Sir. I was quite moved with the connotations of knighthood (despite being an anti-monarchist, anti-capitalist type). I pleaded with him, attempting to convey all my distress and desolation. Eventually he gave in.
I can hardly describe the feeling after emptying a full, bursting, monstrous bladder. I also took the chance to brush my teeth and have a quick clean up under my armpits. There was no chance of a shower in the immediate future. I came out and thanked the noble worker, with grace but little panache. I was embarrassed, shy and shameful.
Outside, the scene was by now beginning to resemble that of the previous evening but in reverse. The hard working flocks were moving quickly, busily and I was once again lost in the waves of the human crowd. This time I walked towards St Paul's Cathedral. What an impressive monument, I thought. A masterpiece of Roman intellectual and spiritual skill, built without the spirit levels, tape measures and other tools of the modern world. I stood for a while, studying the structure from every angle, scrutinising, interpreting and appreciating the saintly beauty of the architecture. But the freezing, gusty wind was still blowing with vehemence, crashing into the statues at the bottom of the cathedral's steps. My body was numb and my ears were burning. Now I was no longer riding the waves of the rush hour, I was a sinking ship taking in water in a rough sea. I began walking again, stepping the pace up to add some extra heat to my body, always keeping my both hands in the crevices of my pockets.
I passed the Royal Courts of Justice next. Everything is so royal in this country. The Royal Mail, The Royal Air Force, The Royal Marines, The Royal Academy of Arts. Or else it's Her Majesty's Customs or Her Majesty's Prison Service. I guess you couldn't really call a jail The Royal Prison could you. Although to my mind we are all prisoners of monarchs past and present. I kept on moving towards Victoria.
By now I hadn't eaten for more than twenty-four hours, but strangely I wasn't craving food. Lucky, since I couldn't afford any. I paced quickly towards Scotland Yard, London's police headquarters. I wasn't planning on speaking to anyone there about my new state of homelessness, I just somehow ended up there, exhausted. My feet were aching and I decided to give my body a small treat for a while. I sat down, wrapped myself tightly in my jacket and began to dose. It felt divine and peaceful and soon my lost energy was replenished.
The day had passed quickly and already dusk was looming and a carbon copy of another rush hour London evening was about to form. What had transfixed me yesterday now became boring and annoying. I watched the same movements, the same people and headed towards Westminster, home of the House of Commons. There was more traffic and the noise pollution had shunted up a few decibels. I dreamt about winning the lottery, but I couldn't afford to buy a ticket.
Then the police came. I was woken up by two officers who thought I may have passed out. I was dizzy and far away and struggled to recognise their uniforms and fluorescent jackets. They asked me to stand up while they searched my bag and body. They made a phone call to check my previous address and that I didn't have a criminal record. And then, knowing that I was presently homeless, they politely asked me to leave the station.
I took my rucksack, the only belonging I have on earth and began another pilgrimage to shelter. Spring was still on hold and Mother Nature was testing me to my limits. But somehow I managed to source some energy and I began moving with a sense of pride and belonging to the city.
