There is a tremendous storm closing in tonight. The wind is roaring and I was hurrying home ahead of the rain. As I passed the small row of shops around the corner from my house, I saw a face flicker in the doorway of the accountancy firm as a cigarette was dragged on. He caught my gaze, a man slumped in the doorway, a can of lager in his hand and a knitted woollen had pulled down below his eyebrows. I hurried on.<\/p>\n
Once home, my conscience began to nag at me. This was no night to be sleeping rough. Equally, I didn’t feel inclined to spend breakfast explaining to P why there was a tramp at the kitchen table.<\/p>\n
I grabbed a torch and headed to the garage in search of compromise. I was convinced that there was an old sleeping bag to be had. There wasn’t. But there was an old blanket and a plastic groundsheet. I gathered them up and headed back out.<\/p>\n
I approached the man warily. Disconcertingly, he looked even more wary. As I committed to walk up and speak to him our mutual wariness raced neck and neck towards panic.<\/p>\n
“Hello” I opened “Are you locked out or are you sleeping out here tonight? If you are, I have a blanket and a groundsheet that you would be welcome to.”<\/p>\n
“That’s very kind of you” he said. “I am staying the flat upstairs but they would rather I didn’t drink or smoke there so I have popped out to have a cigarette before bed”.<\/p>\n
Absurdly, we then shook hands and I pottered off again weak from the amount of blood that had rushed to my cheeks.<\/p>\n
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