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I've been knocked for six a bit tonight. I put a new set of tyres on the cross bike, and figured I'd go for a quick spin to check them out, despite the fact it was half an hour to midnight. I was looking for some graffiti for a moody night shot with the bike, and rode past Organic Jim. He's a homeless guy who has turned up in Portobello, and seemed to be genuinely concerned about a couple of 'youths' who had just been walking up the road. And so we got talking. And boy can he talk.

The thing is, it's clear he has issues that are well past simply being homeless. I helped him shift his stuff, 5 suitcases worth, across he road and back again, each time wondering where the most shadowy place to do it was so that nobody watching could see easily, all the while listening to Demis Roussos on a small radio has was carrying about, occasionally singing along to, occasionally dancing. I was with him for about a hour listening to random thoughts with no real beginning or end. And guilt came in waves as he asked if I had a garden or a garage or a shed that he could sleep in. And I lied.

The second street crossing saw him sneak into a driveway and front garden after he'd seen a grey cat walking down the street and go in that driveway (the grey cat being lucky, like the three magpies and a bee he'd seen earlier in the day going into another garden). I was more than a little uncomfortable in the complicity, knowing how I'd feel if I woke in the morning to someone sleeping in my front garden, again feeling guilty at my preconception, but at the same time not being in any position to shake it. Not wanting to shake it. And we parted with him telling me, utterly undeservedly, that I was a 'gem'.

He's now, possibly, sleeping in a garden, or maybe even having a visit from the police as the house owner realises he's there, while I'm sat in my warm and comfortable house and all the amenities that brings. It's weird, feeling helpless while knowing I could easily have done more. And it is an encounter that has successfully screwed with my head for the evening. Sometimes you just don't know how good you have it.

The picture (I wanted to ask Jim for a picture, but it just didn't feel right) is of Quest on the right (who has been blipped when he was wee enough for Mel to hold up for the camera) and Gulliver on the left, who is half brother to Ivor (who I think I've blipped before) all of whom have lived with our neighbours two doors down who train guide dogs from puppyhood. Hard work, but oh so rewarding. And their first attempt, Emily, inexplicably failed her assessment (no such worries with Ivor), so they were offered the chance to take her back as a family pet and went for it. So it's a pretty canine household just now (and continues the strange run of puppy chats).