Ryan

Meet Ryan

By all accounts Ryan shouldn’t be homeless. He’s outgoing, educated and comes from an affluent family. Clearly the streets don’t discriminate.

I’ve caught him on a bad day - his sleeping bad was stolen last night and he’s barely slept, but he still has a smile and surprisingly assured handshake for me. His clear eyes suggest he doesn’t use Spice. I like him instantly. My heart breaks a little when he tells me that his father threw him out when he was 20 and that’s he been on the streets for the 4 years since. He cuts the story short so I don’t push for more information.

We chat a little about the itinerant nature of being homeless - he’s moved around most, if not all, of the Greater Manchester boroughs: Ashton is best for money, the city centre for food. As if to prove the point a young woman approachs with some hot noodles from the market for Ryan. There seems to be a growing trend in giving food instead of money - I can only assume this is because of the grave issue with Spice, and how accessible and cheap it is.

I decide to help Ryan and so return the next day with a warm, waterproof jacket that I barely use - his face lights up like a child on Christmas morning as he tries it on. It’s a perfect fit. I’ve also brought him a book - he gratefully explains that there is no enjoyment to life on the streets: the things we take for granted - watching a film, listening to music, or having friends round for dinner - are completely absent.

Before I leave he tells me about a man who was recently hospitalised after being stabbed by some fellow homeless that he was trying to rob. He was using a razorblade to slice open their pockets in the middle of the night. I ask Ryan whether he thinks this version of street justice is fair - he thinks a “beating” would have been more appropriate. Thieving is clearly rife - people are driven to desperation and have little, or nothing, to lose. Ryan vows to wear his new jacket at all times to prevent it being stolen - I hope it isn’t.