New homeless law: http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-38736168
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He sleeps on a corner one mile away from the ghost buildings owned by billionaires for investment purposes.
Its that time of year when one of his friends never returns. A couple of nights below freezing, mixing milk and meths is not enough to protect them. Go to sleep with a beer jacket on and never wake up. Removed before the morning commuters arrive.
He was in one of those recent endless wars. Not one of the great ones, no victory parades or homecomings. No definite ending, a gradual fading and withdrawal, until all the troops were back home. Quiet retreat while those places drifted back to the way they were before intervention. Call it unresolved, call it what you want.
He came home, left the army. One pay cheque away from the street, like most people in these towns. It was all it took. No dramatic downfall.
He rides the underground trains during the day to stay warm.
This town keeps sucking people in and some people get spat out.
The office workers all walk past him on their way to get a sandwich and a latte.
Some Friday night jokers pissed on his sleeping bag and the spikes in the door way says you're not welcome. You don't fit the story of this economy.
Once he was a baby, and his mum said he was a happy kid, and then he played football like every other kid in those northern towns. He had a mother and father, and went to school, had a girlfriend, learned to drive, went to the cinema, hung out in pubs, got a job, joined the army, went to war. He went back once and it was all betting shops, charity shops and boarded up shops. Boarded up lives.
Then it was over. Discharged. Fell into temporary work. One day walking home from the warehouse the pavement opened up so wide he fell through and never got back up again.
The girl in the coffee shop comes from one of those southern European countries where the economy collapsed. She headed north to this town like a million others. When her shift has finished, she comes out and gives him a coffee and one of the left over sandwiches.
The evening commuters go home, the tourists are on their way to the theatre.
It hasn't been cold enough long enough for the council to step in and sweep them up into the shelter.
There's a hard frost forming on his memories. Its going to be a hard night.
