Daniel* arrived at my desk with a small backpack, a rolled-up sleeping mat under his arm and a sleeping bag in his hand. He appeared stressed and impatient and talked really fast non-stop.
I was working as a volunteer at Crisis for Christmas – an annual charity appeal run by Crisis that helps the homeless charity provide warm meals, shelter, support and companionship at Christmas to those experiencing homelessness.
One of my tasks during my shift was to manage appointments for the audiologist. I added Daniel’s name to the list and we chatted while he waited for his turn. He started to relax a bit and told me he was a photographer and studying for a degree, having already achieved a diploma in Spain. He was Spanish but spoke fluent English.
Ear health checks were just one of the services being offered for free at a school in Stratford, East London, which was being used as a day centre by Crisis for five days over Christmas.
Other services on offer to the centre’s guests included haircuts, podiatry, eye tests, hepatitis screenings, and flu and Covid vaccinations – all carried out by professionals volunteering their time. Other parts of the school were being used for meals, sports, a cinema, bingo, board games and showering.
Next up was Simon*. He talked a lot too, mostly about a multitude of health issues he was suffering from, including pancreatic cancer and diabetes. He showed me a picture of his bed – a bare mattress on the floor.
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The audiologist later told me how Daniel’s appointment had gone. He told me: “He wanted me to check for aliens in his head. He said he exists in another world as well as this one.”
I also felt like I was existing in another world. It was one far away from my comfortable middle-class life as a freelance journalist with a loving family, amazing friends and regular exotic holidays. Seeing people with next to nothing was an eye-opener.
With no specific skills to offer, I was a general volunteer working alongside more than 100 other people on each shift who had given up some of their Christmas to give something back. I admit I was nervous beforehand. I’m as guilty as the next person when it comes to averting my eyes when I see someone sleeping in a doorway or begging for money on the train. I’d signed up after being inspired by a friend who volunteered in 2023, half-thinking I might chicken out.
The online induction and pre-shift briefing on my first day helped calm my nerves. Volunteers congregated in the ‘volunteer’ area at 9am, an hour before the doors opened to guests. Most volunteers had done it before, and those further up the hierarchy had undergone training. Tasks were always assigned in pairs, or bigger groups, and rotated to alleviate any stress or boredom. There was no obligation to do a task you didn’t feel comfortable with and there was support on offer if anyone – guest or fellow volunteer – made you feel uncomfortable in any way.
Volunteering tasks
Over my two day shifts (Christmas Eve and 27 December), I unloaded lorries of donated clothes, greeted guests at the front door, managed healthcare appointments, showed guests around the school and often did stints of ‘gap duty’. This involved sitting by a door or staircase to stop guests accessing areas of the building deemed out of bounds. Most ‘gaps’ had a table and a jigsaw puzzle. Crucially, they also had a third chair to encourage guests to sit down and chat or simply help with the puzzles, which became both a talking point and team effort. Jigsaws felt like an analogy too – with zero pieces in place, getting your life back on track must feel like an impossible task.
The people who attended the day centres are mostly classed as the ‘hidden homeless’. This means they are not necessarily sleeping rough but they don’t have a secure or safe home. Crisis guests typically come from hostels, squats, temporary accommodation, B&Bs, night shelters or women’s refuges. Others are sofa surfing, hoping the good will doesn’t run out. But some appear to be sleeping outside on the streets – many carried sleeping bags.
The centre had a ticketed luggage store for guests to leave their belongings in, but there was no obligation to use it. Many, such as Daniel, carted all their worldly possessions around with them in shopping bags or backpacks, not trusting anyone enough to leave their stuff anywhere, not even a ticketed, manned luggage store.
There was a strict code of conduct for both guests and volunteers: no alcohol, drugs, weapons, violence, inappropriate language or behaviour. As volunteers, we weren’t allowed to use our phones in guest spaces – we had to stay focused and understand that, for many guests, this might be one of the rare times people made eye contact with them, remembered their names or listened to them. We were advised against giving anyone money or gifts or sharing our personal details.
We weren’t allowed to ask probing questions either (a struggle as a journalist!), as the reasons people end up homeless, whether it’s through bad luck or poor decisions, are often complex stories that can be traumatic, triggering and personal.
The centre I worked at didn’t offer overnight stays, but elsewhere in London, Crisis had taken over three hotels where guests stayed for several weeks. Joe Wicks (AKA The Body Coach), actor Sam Phillips and singer Ellie Goulding were among volunteers at the hotels.
According to Crisis, 4,780 people were seen sleeping rough on the capital’s streets from July to September 2024, an increase of almost a fifth (18%) from the previous year. Combined with the help on offer through its year-round services, Crisis predicted it would be helping more than 6,000 people experiencing homelessness during Christmas 2024.
Inevitably, many guests I met had mental health problems, likely either the cause or a consequence of their living situation. I’d been worried about people being drunk or on drugs, as well as my own personal safety. But while I didn’t encounter anyone particularly intoxicated, it was obvious what years of substance abuse and addiction had done to many people, both mentally and physically. Many guests had missing teeth or personal hygiene issues, and barely anyone looked well-nourished.
The clothing room was one of the busiest rooms in the building. Donations had to be sorted into genders, and sizes. Boxloads appeared to be donated directly by fashion brands – something worth considering next time you raise an eyebrow at homeless people wearing trendy sportswear. There were rumours of scuffles breaking out between guests as they fought for clothes, until a system was swiftly put in place to keep everything under control.
Why did I sign up for Crisis?
Christmas has long felt like a festival of consumerism that many struggle to afford. Numerous articles I wrote in 2024 centred on how many people have little or no savings and are just a paycheck away from financial issues or eviction. I also wanted to do something out of my comfort zone. It was certainly that. At various points in time, my Crisis shifts were humbling, disturbing, rewarding, thought-provoking, fun, sad, uplifting and joyous.
“You’ve changed lives today,” shift leader Lizzie declared to the crowd of exhausted-looking volunteers at the end-of-the-day briefing. I really hope I did. I had a tear in my eye as I said goodbye to my new pals (the other volunteers were all lovely) and walked past the rough sleepers outside Stratford station on my way home. At the end of the day, people experiencing homelessness are just people, like you and me.
To help support its vital work this winter and beyond, Crisis is asking the public to give £29.80 to help someone take their first steps to a life beyond homelessness. Please visit https://bit.ly/4gbgrny
*All names have been changed
