>>Financial Donations and Methods of Giving

Businesses can help by donating goods and materials that are perhaps no longer needed, but which can benefit the Trust; providing places on appropriate training courses for the Trust staff; and of course sponsoring activities that both raise money and build your team. Helping the Trust can generate valuable press coverage.

>>Legacies

Very few people are born homeless. Most people who find themselves with no where to live, grew up with their family, went to school, had friends, ambitions, hopes and aspirations.

Those hopes were shattered by circumstances, over which they often had little control. Parental divorce, intolerable abuse, mental illness, physical or learning disability, unemployment, housing shortage are all the factors that can easily lead to homelessness.

Homeless people are the people just like us. It could happen to anyone.

The descent into homelessness and the despair damages self-esteem and confidence. The opportunity to socialise, share in simple leisure pursuits and practise basic social life skills is valuable & essential.

Nevertheless it is very difficult to return to society after having experienced the exclusion that homelessness brings.
 

Life Stories

Story no 1
James' story
James' aged 31, turned up at Norwich Night Shelter having been released from prison where he had completed a sentence for theft and burglary. He had turned to crime to fund a heroin habit that had developed as a way of coping with family problems. Due to his seriously poor health, a result of many years of alcohol and drug misuse, he was moved to St martins House where he could receive a more appropriate level of support and care.
James has now managed to stay clean of drugs for many months and although still having string desire to use again he recognises that this is not the most effective way of dealing with his problems. James despite feeling in a state of flux knows this is the best chance yet and clearly expresses a desire to resettle.
" I’m in control, of my life, my situation, which I wasn't before.
I've had enough of being out of it I want to move on"

Story no 2
Mat’s Story
Mat is 21. As a child and as a teenager he suffered a serious abuse at home. He was excluded from school when he was 15.Mat has a one year old child from relationship that finally fell to pieces when he could cope no longer and overdosed. This is turn resulted in his being homeless and ending up in Norwich. Mat has both mental and physical health problems as a result of his past and still feels angry and hurt. He is beginning to understand his problems and is very keen to find help to lay a rest some of ghosts of his past. Mat knows that long-term he would like to have his own flat, but for the moment he needs time to work things out.
“It’s my baby’s first birthday tomorrow. That’s very hard and I don’t know how I’ll handle that”

Story no 3
Graham's Story-
Graham, 32, has been known to the trust for several years. The most recent occasion of becoming homeless was after a failed attempt to reunite with his family in Derby. The poor health had stopped Graham from pursuing a career as a painter and decorator. He would very much like to have a place of his own and possibly to start a family, if the right partner came along. For the moment he is pleased to have a roof over his head and regular meals.
" The trust has become a home from home. I miss my mum and worry about her but St Martin's are still doing a good job."


We all have perceptions about homelessness. No one likes to see people on the street. But those who pass quickly by often have little real understanding of the real issues that cause homelessness.

Homelessness will never go away. The demands of modern society create pressure and tension which some people find just too much to cope with.

Relationships break down, jobs are lost and debts can mount. It’s all too easy to find yourself suddenly on the outside looking in, rejected and alone.

Government and caring agencies across the country are working together to develop policies and practices that reduce those pressures but inevitably, people will always find themselves on the street.

St Martin's Housing trust, with your support, will continue to focus on helping those who find themselves homeless in Norwich

Story no 4
Charley's Story
Charley, local to Norwich, ended up homeless as a result of domestic violence. Apart from the abuse she suffered at the hands of a violent partner the most difficult enduring hardship is being separated from her 6 year old son who is in foster -care. When she left her partner, she initially stayed with friends, which eventually became impracticable. it was at this point that she came to trust for support. Despite poor physical health, Charley has clearly made progress and feels that with ongoing support she would like to make steps towards resettling in independent accommodation.
" I need to be independent and I feel I’m ready. What I'd like, say within the next year, to have my own flat so I can have access to my son"

Story no 5
Paul's Story
Paul served in the Navy for eleven years and then returned to Norwich, his home city, when discharged. Soon after leaving the Navy, he married and had 2 children. Paul worked in the hospital and then for 6 years with the electricity board, After breakdown of his marriage Paul was left with nowhere to live. Having been admitted to the Night Shelter he was transferred to St Martins House where he could receive better care for his health needs. In time, Paul would like to move away from the City and settle down in the country.
"It's been a very self -effecting experience, I only now really appreciate what I had. I'm so much more aware of my fellow beings. I would like to work again but I'm far more modest in my ambitions now "

Story no 6
Letter from an Ex-resident

Where am I? I open my eyes and realise that I am in the Bishopbridge Nigh Shelter. A room of my own! I lie there thinking of the last few days: the departure from Belgium and the feeling of freedom that gave me, from the hell of working to achieve the contract that finally failed because Pres. Bush decided to put on his white Stetson and attack Iraq dragging this country with him.

The trip from Stansted to Norwich by coach wondering if my old friend still lives there. It is January and there is snow on the ground with a grey, threatening sky. Two days living in B & Bs until I am no longer able to pay any more and the search for my old friend is to no avail.

Two days ago there were no vacancies but, to my surprise, St. Vincent De Paul offered a night in a B & B. next day, yesterday, I tried Bishopbridge House again and was greeted by a smiling staff member: “Good news, Tom. We have a room available." Huge relief!

Walking to the hostel I had an only too horrible vision of having to sleep in a car park. Having come from warmer climes I thought that it might well kill me, but anyway I was in luck. I light a cigarette, and lie back luxuriating in the warmth of the bed. After a while I show and dress and go out to face the day, a day less threatening than any last year. At the front desk I ask about breakfast and am shown through to the Breakfast Room. Amazing! Cornflakes and toast. And coffee! Not institutional muck but good quality Nescafe.

Later there are sandwiches for lunch and I hang around the front desk, ignoring the “no Loitering” sign. I am just listening to the sound of my countrymen and women talking my own language – well, more or less! My wife who is currently stuck in Russia believes that when we get her to the UK she will have no problems with the language unlike New Zealand where it took her some months to even understand the “G’Day! Ow are ya!” She believes that everyone in England speaks BBC English. As if to emphasise this I hear the Norfolk song, “Ha ya gotta light boiy?”

In the lounge there is a Scotsman somewhat the worse for wear. I have difficulty understanding him myself – God knows how a Russian would. Eventually I retreat to my room and wonder what to do next. I am in a hurry. With my wife stuck in Russia I need to sort things out fast.

Next day I go to the Job Centre and sign up and sign up for unemployment. I am told that because of my absence from the UK for 13 years they need to check my residency. Something must have shown on my face because the employment officer smiles and tells me not to worry; that fact that I have a British passport and a tax file number means there is very little chance I will be refused.

I am still in a flap about sorting things out until one of the staff takes me into the office for the induction paperwork. We fill in the forms then he smiles and says: “Look Tom I think you have taken a bit of a beating in Europe and you will be in a rush to sort everything out. Believe me when I tell you that it is better to make a conscious decision to do nothing at all for a couple of weeks; let things flow. You’ll find that it all comes together and you don’t have to beat yourself up to try to get everything sorted out in a day” Sound advice and in a way a sense of relief, almost as though I can set aside my responsibilities for a while. Advice I will value over the next few months.

A few days later and I am asked if I want to move to the other side of the building. It is an advance and I am shown the rooms – carpets, en-suite, fridge. But I have a faint resistence. I am OK where I am as if my room have become a private retreat. However i am not given the option and I am moved across to the resettlement side. Once there I am certainly more relaxed and comfortable. The room is pleasant and cosy and it is almost a pleasure to look out at the snow falling and yet feel warm and secure. I am in danger of becoming agoraphobic.

I force myself to walk into the city centre and find that the market is still there. Twenty three years since I was in Norwich and yet there is still a market stall that sells mushy peas. “Hello, how are you today?” the stallholder asks in that disarming Norfolk way, as though she recognises me. Perhaps she does! Perhaps she served me 23 years ago!

It is now a week since I arrived and because I am on the resettlement side I am expected to shop and cook for myself. I am issued with £21 and escorted to the supermarket like a small child. I am actually pleased about this since I am appalled at prices and although I am assured that £21 is enough for a week’s shopping I have my doubts. Sure enough, at the checkout I find that it is £20.55. Damn! I have invested in £1 for a trolley. Dilemma! That thought crosses my mind that just a few weeks ago I was negotiating a contract worth millions of dollars, but I am unable to deal with this. Do I take the trolley back and reclaim the pound or return something? The supervisor solves the issue by lending me a pound until I can return the trolley. On the walk back I reflect how much my brain has shut down since I said goodbye to Belgium and all the overwork and agony that went with it.

The following week I am trusted to go by myself and, with a bit of searching, reduce my bill to £13. I am learning the UK prices; a small triumph but a start on the long road back. Then, just as I am becoming confident about life, another obstacle. I am informed at the Job Centre that since I am over sixty i do not need to be signing on every two weeks but rather I am entitled to Income Support from the DSS.

“Wait a moment,” I protest. “What’s the difference?”
“Well, you don’t have to be looking for work”
“But I am looking for work”
“Well you don’t have to sign on every two weeks”
“I don’t mind that”.

A flicker of irritation passes across the lady’s face.

“Sir,” I am addressed. “What exactly do you object to this change over?”

I hesitate then plunge in. “I am familiar with UK systems, most of which, when it comes to the Social Services, don’t work”

Surprisingly, she suppresses a smile. Recomposing her face she fixes me with a steely green eyed look, and slowly and distinctly says: “It will be a seamless transition”.

Five weeks later I haunt the DSS offices every two days.

“We don’t have your application”.
“Then you have lost it since it came from the Job Centre”

Next visit. “We don’t have your application but you cannot claim from the 26th January, only from today”.

I manage to keep my temper. Just.

“So you’re saying that you don’t have my application?”
“That’s correct”
“And you’re saying that I cannot claim from the 26th January?”

She hesitates, sensing a trap, but too late.
“Well yes” a little uncertainly.

“Let me ask you this. If you don’t have my application how do you know I am claiming from the 26th January?”

She makes a flustered excuse and saying she will check vanishes upstairs. Ten minutes later she reappears with my file. “We have found your application”, she announces happily, “but we have to check on your residency status”.

“That’s already been done by the Job Centre”
“Yes, but we have to check for ourselves”.
“Why? Are you a different Government?”
“There’s no need to take that attitude”
“Why not? I was told this would be a seamless transition”

The following week I revisit the infamous department. All smiles now. Yes, all is in order and so the seamless transition is about to hap-pen, albeit six weeks late. We are filled with euphoria, she and I, as she makes some notes on my file. I even feel quite fond of her. We have got to know each other over the weeks and I am prepared to be magnanimous. After all it is the system that is at fault. For my part I am looking forward to having a beer at lunchtime, momentarily forgetting what I was dealing with. “We will be posting the cheque this afternoon” Bang goes the pub!

Had it not been for the kindness of the staff at Bishopbridge House I would have starved to death by now. Instead I was allowed to eat in the Night Shelter dining room. It was almost with regret that a few days later I was back cooking my own meals. By now I am familiar with the staff and many of the residents. But then another move – I am to be resettled. I am taken to a small terraced house and introduced to the two other residents both of whom seem reasonable guys and I settle in to await the great day when I will get a flat from the council.

It is now six months since I move and the flat seems as far away as ever. T

Welcome home! You didn’t think it was going to be easy did you, you stupid man! Well, some of it was. The St. Martins Trust and their staff made it smooth and comfortable, giving me the strength to do battle with various Government departments for which I am extremely grateful.

Footnote: Tom is now living in a council flat and continues to be supported by the Trust.
 

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