Former Big Issue vendor Stan shares his story on his personal journey forward & helping others to help themselves.
I’m working from home today, sitting in my lounge which is part cinema, part office. Settling down to write this piece, I’m surrounded by creature comforts, a projector (my boys toy) shining brightly, flashing images of 1990’s pop music, a mug of coffee steaming on the table and a cigarette burning away in the ashtray. It’s not the first time the place where I lived has doubled up with a place where I work.
I cast my mind back to a time where a windy doorway was both my home and my workplace. It seems like an age now when I was selling the Big Issue. I lived in a doorway just down the road from the BBC in central London, at the time the BBC shop was next door. The freezing, wet mornings, not unlike today, would mean I had a few soggy papers, some cold coffee and a battle to keep myself dry which made my life, let’s say interesting.
I count myself among the lucky ones to have come through that, there are many fallen soldiers who didn’t make the journey back and others who are still out there. It is hard to imagine but sleeping rough and selling the Big Issue I felt fortunate; I mean I only had a sleeping bag, cardboard boxes and the cold, hard pavement for my home, so how can that evoke such feelings? Let me explain.
I had slept rough before, as a young runaway on the streets of London. Avoiding the police at all costs, afraid to make eye contact in case I was recognised, it was a lonely and isolating experience. It was different as an adult. I guess there were many differences; no one was looking for me; that was the biggest one. I had become a nobody. I wasn’t signing on; I didn’t have an address, so it was almost like I didn’t exist. Selling the Big Issue gave me the opportunity to become someone again. I built up a large number of regular customers, and coffee and conversation would break up the day. But these people were not just customers; I built up relationships with some of them too.
There was I, sleeping rough, with next to nothing, and I got to hear about other people’s lives, marriages, divorces and everything in between. Sometimes I sensed a disappointed look on their faces as they came to buy the magazine and I was already deep in conversation with someone else. I was in demand, and it felt great. I think it was probably of the few times I actually felt as if I was wanted, maybe even needed to some extent.
I used to get old advertising cards and write a ‘thought’ or a ‘joke’ ‘of the day’ on the blank side, tying it to the lamppost. My ‘thoughts of the day’ posts quickly became a focal point for many, I wrote about things I found amusing so they were sometimes funny, but sometimes very controversial. Even people had who never bought a copy before stopped and chatted. I even saw others cross the road to come and read them, I can’t explain the buzz I got as they walked off up the road chuckling to themselves, or shaking their head.
My job, it is really simple, I just open the door and cheer them on. I get the same sense of pride that the Big Issue has when one of their ‘fold’ smashes through the glass ceiling and begins to fly, they opened the door to me and countless others and continue to cheer us all on.
