There is a tramp who has sat on the top step of the stairs leading down to Balham tube station ever since I first moved to Balham (I guess thatÂ’s eight or nine years ago). He was one of the eccentric men of the street and was always extraordinarily happy (most likely because he was constantly full to the brim with strong lager). As you ascended the steps from the bowels of the Northern Line he would often be sitting there, singing Opera in a booming voice which echoed into the chasm beneath him. He was pretty good and it made you wonder what his story was.
I donÂ’t think heÂ’d decided like I did in Melbourne that it would be cheaper to live on the streets.
I donÂ’t really know how old he is. ItÂ’s difficult to guess the age of a homeless person (though I expect late night Channel 4 will one day turn that challenge into a game-show of some kind).
Anyway I used to like seeing him. HeÂ’d make the commuters laugh. IÂ’d usually give him a couple of quid. IÂ’m sure he did pretty well.
Over the years though I have seen his decline (and itÂ’s not like he the starting point was very high up), but he now looks thin and much older. HeÂ’s sunk too far into his drunken stupor to smile now, let alone sing for us. I sometimes still slip him money out of pity now, but itÂ’s not like that money is helping him to do anything but get more drunk. I suppose thatÂ’s all heÂ’s got now and all heÂ’s likely to have, so itÂ’s probably not our place to judge.
I donÂ’t know what IÂ’m trying to say. I donÂ’t actually think there is any constructive way to help the man. I think you have to want to be helped (which is why the Big Issue is such a good idea).
I suppose I am just saying that it is sad.
