I always like to call it – ‘cause I stay positive and stay fully focused – the beautiful struggle.

So I started off – I’ve come from my family home, a Manchester family home, which has always been a nice thing. I’ve always got a good connection with my family. And then I went to college and I went to University, and then I jumped out of Uni ‘cause I started at the family business, which was catering, which went quite well.

I ended up buying my first property at a very young age – or what I thought was young – well before most of the people from my upbringing. So I ended up getting my own property and then I just fell into financial difficulties, falling in and out of work. And that was mainly because I’d taken a job, which again was family-based up in Chester.

So I was doing stock management up there, and I fell into financial difficulties. Along with being at a young age, I did like to go and do the ol’ dancing and all that type of stuff. So I was out and enjoying myself, I was on holiday all the time. 

And – I don’t know – there’s a particular word for it where you’ve got a phobia of answering letters and stuff like that. There is a word for it. It’s the same with my phone and my emails – I guess it’s just a phobia. Certain things scare people differently. Especially the streets – if we hear sirens we used to run – whereas some people see it as someone being saved.

So, I ended up losing my property, which left me in ruins in all honesty. Which led me down the wrong paths. Fortunately at the time I was in a relationship, so I moved in with my missus, but it wasn’t the best of relationships, so I was in and out. And that was sofa surfing, street homeless – you name it, I did it. 

Drugs became involved. Nothing, as they say, was ‘hard’ I don’t think. I don’t know what they class as hard or anything, but I’d smoke weed and I’d take cocaine and I’d drink alcohol and I’d drink a lot of coffee just to stay awake. Because it was pretty dangerous on the street.

And funnily enough, I had a pretty good regime. So this is a silly little story I’ll tell you now. So I was a member at a gym at the time – a gym in town. And it used to cost me 150 pounds – because I knew the lad there – for seven months membership. And that was open from six in the morning till 10 at night. And then across the road there was the casino that was open from 10 at night – all hours – ‘til six. So I could dodge sleeping on the street sometimes, by just being in the gym, sleeping in the sauna or the steam room with the door open. It was quite mad. 

So then I was street homeless and there were just times where like shit hit the fan to be honest. And I was lost. And this was just a recurring cycle for maybe six years. Ages. Years where I didn’t even notice that I was homeless, or to be deemed or classed as homeless. 

I approached the council who told me I wasn’t homeless. Yet I knew I was homeless ‘cause I was on the fucking street. Simple.

The most hurtful thing was – I’ve always dressed quite well I’d say, I probably wouldn’t come across to someone as homeless, or to what they’d perceive or a stereotypical image of someone being homeless. I maintained good hygiene and I was still active within the working community with people I knew. No one knew about my situation. It was disguised, it was under a guise as such. I was living two different lives which was pretty bad. 

It’s upsetting to be honest. Because to a certain point you lose yourself, and you end up playing roles that you’re not. And it’s deception, and it’s not a stepping stone of progression. Do you know what I mean? 

It can play a lot on your mental health. And that’s where mental health comes into it. The worst thing is when you hear people tell you that people ‘want’ to be homeless, or that they ‘want’ to live on the street. They’re just fucking stupid. Mind my language. They’re just really rude and stupid and ignorant, and somewhat charlatans themselves. 

No one wants to be homeless. What it comes down to is a mental condition.

‘Cause people don’t understand that sleep deprivation and insomnia, along with drugs, and fear of being attacked on the street… little things like this all add up very fast.

This can happen within a few days of being street homeless. And then your head’s gone.  You’re not you. You’re acting under the influence, fully. You don’t even have to be taking drugs to be in the situation. Your mind will be playing tricks. If you go and sleep on the street for a few days, your mind will start playing tricks with the light and dark. It’s the way the world works.

So, back to the subject of the story of myself. So I ended up finding a place at the Booth Centre. Don’t get me wrong, I’d walked in and out of this institution several times, but I’d never had true faith that these people were willing to help.

This was three, four years back now. And I was just fucked. I was on the street and I thought my head’s gonna fall off. I need somewhere. And luckily the lady who’s doing the bingo right now, she’s the lady that said, ‘Karl, I’ve got somewhere where you can go and stay’. And it was just luck of the draw. But this story thickens, so let me carry on. 

This was like a halfway home. Being put into an environment where you had a roof over your head – but with rules and regulations – made you feel imprisoned. So as well as the service was there for you, it was more of a profiteering service than a service for help. 

They’re making money, but not looking after [people] and caring for their needs or helping them. 

Because it’s a halfway house, they’re supposed to find you a safe home or a rented home to live. They would rather house you and tell you that you need to be in by nine or you’re out. Or you can’t do this, you can’t do that. It was totally the wrong way. In fact, it was something that I made a vow that I was gonna do when I climbed the ladder of success, was to complain about that place because it was really bad. 

But I met good friends there. I think I was there for two months maybe. I can’t remember. It wasn’t long. And I got asked to leave because I didn’t get back on time. I was taking cash in hand jobs just to get the money for myself. What tends to happen with temporary accommodation is people and families are positioned outside of where their families are based. So this was up here in South Manny, so I would go to my mom, to see my family, to keep my connection with my family and my friends. And if I missed the last bus – that was say 10 or 11 – I couldn’t get back up to where I was, so I’d stay at my mum’s. But I’d let them know – always in the correct manner – via email, telephone calls. They just didn’t have it. So it was unfortunate. They kicked me out at a very, very bad time.

I moved in maybe two months before Christmas and I was kicked out around the 13th December. It was so close to Christmas. It was scary. It was terrible. It was rude. And the time I got kicked out, I got back there – so say I had to be in from one or two in the morning – I had got back there at 10 past. And they wouldn’t let me in the building. And it was freezing – December cold. All my clothes in there, everything’s in there, I’m back, I’m late, I’ve already phoned you to tell you that I’m gonna be late. It was upsetting. But I just felt sorry. 

It’s funny because everybody who’s been there will tell you the same stories. I mean I’ve done a little work in one of them [temporary accommodations] that’s local to Manchester. And it was run a whole lot better. It was run by a beautiful lady and a whole lot better. And it made a whole lot of difference. Yet at times, I’ve still seen the similar effect of the money, the profit side of things. So it’s something that needs to come into question, in the way that services work.

So I’d got kicked out again. So again, I’ve gone to the Booth Centre – almost in tears – and I was put into the sheltered accommodation where you’re sleeping in like churches. I had to go all across Manchester, across to different churches each night. I used to stay there the one night, return back to the Booth centre, be given the address for the other church or hostel or whatever you’re gonna stay at. I’m just giggling to myself when I think back – that’s why I call it the beautiful struggle – it was like a quest. So you’d wake up and you’d have to be at the Booth Centre for nine and you’d get given a paper with some patterns where you had to travel to. And then we’d all group up in a team – we’ll link up at here at 5 o’clock, we’ll meet at this point, get this bus. But it brought teamwork into it. They stopped them during Covid. 

Being within the church, it takes you back to belief and knowledge and education to a certain extent. I wasn’t religious when I was brought up or anything. And even to an extent now, I’d say I’m open. I like knowledge and I think I gained a lot of knowledge speaking to a lot of the people that worked within that service at the time. That helped quite well. And I got housed from it, ‘cause I think you get put into a certain criteria – emergency housing. So I managed to get a house with the Booth Centre which is such an amazing place. And truly enough I’m still living with a gentleman today with who I met in one of these sheltered accommodations. So that’s a good story from it. 

So my housing situation now is, I’ve been living up in a place called Abbey Hey, which is close to Gorton, which is Manchester-based. It’s a red brick terrace house, private rented, shared tenancy agreement. In my honest opinion, my landlords not a d–, been alright, but he’s been very distant. Which is what a landlord tends to be these days. It’s all about the money for them. He’s made no fixes to my property – and because the power’s in the landlord, I don’t go shaking bushes. Especially when I’ve been on the street. I’ve found myself in a very beneficial position to where I was. So there’s no point poking sticks in the fire.

So I’m happy to have a roof over my head. And even though I was street homeless, I was sleeping at my friend’s houses, this that and the other, I was pretty lucky because when I did have a property, I had property assets. So once I got my place, I had everything. So my house looks like a house. It’s not just empty. Which I imagine it is for most people.

So that’s my story up to now.