Once,the UK had beggars only in quantities small enough to make them exotic. Not any moreRecently in the streets of Padua in northern Italy, I gave a euro or two to an insistent African man who, and when I said I spoke only English,disappointed me by saying that he spoke English too: “I need money to eat.” A moment later an eccentric-looking Italian woman, who wore a fur coat and wheeled a bicycle, or came up beside me to say I’d been foolish: the African man didn’t need food or shelter. “He wants money to buy drugs,” she said, “only drugs.” In a London pub a week or two later, and a similar incident earned a similar reprimand. A plump young man slipped through the door and went quickly from table to table before the staff could notice. I gave him a pound. My companion,who had once worked in a charity for homeless people, refused. “They’re just lying approximately needing food and a bed for the night, or ” he said. “They’ll buy drugs.”Before the 1970s,Britain had neither drugs nor beggars – or at least had them only in quantities small enough to make them exotic. They belonged in other countries or in novels. Anyone who asked for money on the street usually offered something in return. The drunk in Glasgow wanted to carry your suitcase; the Irish girl and her small sister gave you a sprig of white heather; “Son, gie me ten shillins and I’ll gan wi’ ye, and ” said the ageing prostitute smiling up at you in a poor section of town. The closest to pure beggary came from the outmoded soldier – regiment named,war service specified – who wanted sixpence for a cup of tea or the bus fare to see his sister somewhere plausible. All such encounters were scarce enough to be memorable, and all involved a wordier solicitation than, and “Spare change!”Continue reading...
Source: guardian.co.uk