We are just back from a couple of days in Blackpool in our motorhome. To be honest we had a great time. We walked along the beach, took in the illuminations, played the arcades, ate some great food and drunk a few beers. We also met quite a few people and there seemed to be a steady stream of folks very happy to strike up random conversations with us. These are some of the people we met.
I know what you’re going to say about the people who go in Wetherspoons, but here goes. Whilst in an extremely busy Wetherspoons we managed to get a seat in the window in what looked like a huge high backed half moon shaped seat, which we later found out was one of the original seats from the waltzers on the pier that had been reupholstered. The seating was clearly too big for just the two of us and it wasn’t long before a chap asked if he could perch himself on the other end. Of course we didn’t mind because that’s what we do too. Initially, we were a little engaged in trying to name some of the gymnastics team in an old photograph we’d seen on Facebook to speak to the chap; however, I did notice he was chatting to himself anyway. I overheard him say, ‘yes your Honour I observed the two men going in to the building this morning.’ Then a few seconds later he said something about responding to an incident in the local area.
There are two ways of playing situations like this and most people opt for ignoring the person or making some quick polite conversation, drinking up and going. I, on the other hand, like to embrace the opportunity and remarked to the gentleman that it was a very nice pub and very busy too. We then had a ten minute conversation. Throughout the conversation he spoke to us very eloquently in a style that I can only describe as old English; referring to myself and the good lady wife as Sir and Madam. To give you an example I told the chap we intended to visit to Fleetwood the next Day and he said, ‘Fleetwood is indeed a very interesting town and boasts a number of splendid attractions. Sir, can I recommend a visit to the Market, which is located to the rear of the bus station. Madam, Fleetwood Market is a bustling place where you can purchase anything your heart desires.’
During our conversation we found out that he’d been a computer programmer at some time, was now in his fifties and had suffered some sort of a breakdown following the sudden death of his mother. He mentioned a carer who helped him occasionally and I asked why he needed care when he seemed quite fit and able. He said, again in old English, ‘Sir, to use a modern expression I have been in some very dark places mentally following the death of my mother in 2014. I am now out of those dark places and have returned to the light, but I still need assistance and companionship from time to time.’ We had a great ten minutes chatting to this chap, we probably asked him questions he doesn’t get asked very often and I think both he and I enjoyed our brief encounter.
Later in the evening we were riding the tram back through the illuminations and this time it was our turn to perch next to somebody, as the tram was very busy. This somebody was Chris. I judge he was probably in his late twenties and on the face of it he looked unremarkable, just like you and I, in a red jacket, jeans and trainers. I noticed, after we sat down, he had a bin bag between his legs. He saw me looking at it and nervously shuffled it closer under his legs and tried to turn the top over. In it I spotted a manky looking cushion and a sleeping bag. We passed a few pleasantries about how it was really wet out and how the trams were so busy. He looked nervous and I asked him if he was sleeping rough. He said he was.
Initially, he was reluctant to say much, but as soon as he realised we weren’t a threat he opened up and told us he had been homeless and the council had found him a place to stay but it was awful with mould everywhere and water running down the walls, when he’d complained he’d been kicked out and the council deemed him to have made himself homeless. Consequently, they wouldn’t entertain finding him anywhere else to stay. He had no job and probably no money. I asked him what drugs he was on and he looked me in the eye and said he wasn’t on any, he said he didn’t even smoke and rarely drank. He told us how two nights previously he’d woken up in a door way where he was sleeping with someone peeing on him in his sleeping bag.
A couple of times during the conversation he looked to be on the verge of crying, but at the same time I could sense he wanted to tell somebody about his situation. He was riding the tram for the day to keep dry and warm. I advised him to leave Blackpool, as he had no ties to the area and because it is one of the most socially deprived areas in the country with high unemployment and hitch hike somewhere else. The theory being he’d be more likely to get help in an area where he wasn’t one of hundreds more in a similar situation. We reached our stop and I gave him £10 before we got off. It wasn’t until I gave him the money that he said he hadn’t eaten since the day before.
When we returned to our motorhome there were one or two others parked up in the same row. It was absolutely lashing down with rain and pitch black so we just dived inside, hung our wet clothes up to dry and got in to bed, as it was late anyway. Next morning dawned drier and brighter. I stepped out in to the sunshine and pulled my boots on to walk to the local supermarket with the intention of getting cornflakes for breakfast. As I walked past the next much older motorhome the chap in it came out to say hello with his young son. We exchanged a few pleasantries and I mentioned I was walking to the shop. He said he’d come with me because he needed to get some tobacco.
Again people don’t usually set off to walk half a mile to a shop with someone who they’ve just said hello to, but I didn’t mind. I walked with him and his young son and I could tell he wanted to just have a conversation with someone. He explained that he and his wife had recently split up and despite him earning a good wage as a truck driver he had been unable to get a mortgage because he was working through an agency. His wife had sold the house and with his small share he couldn’t afford anywhere else so had bought an old motorhome and was living in it full time. His two sons visited him every other weekend and he took them away in the motorhome. He seemed quite contented with his life and was managing to live rent free at the back of a factory in exchange for a few items he managed to pick up whilst trucking around the country. Although he was away half the week in his cab, he said he felt liberated with his new life and had all his possessions with him in his motorhome. After ten minutes or so we reached the shops and went our separate ways.
So whats the point in telling you any of this. The point is that most people walk around with their heads in their i-phones or their eyes on the ground in case anyone tries to talk to them. Most people are shit scared of their neighbours let alone their fellow human being. Most people faced with anyone of these three, very pleasant, very normal people would have shied away, made an excuse, sat elsewhere or just ignored them. Don’t be afraid to talk to your fellow human beings.