It is estimated there are more than 60 people sleeping rough on Swindon’s streets every night... yet they are largely ignored or shunned by the rest of us. We take a look at the efforts of the charity Threshold to bring their plight to the public’s attention

HANDS buried in his pockets, slightly hunched, his head partially concealed under a brown hoodie, a skittish young man steps timidly into Threshold’s offices. He is in his early 20s at most.

He stands stiffly in a corner as he accepts the staff’s offer of a cup of tea with a faint befuddled smile. Just 10 minutes ago, the team received a tip a homeless man was lying face down beneath the underpass of John Street Car Park, yards away from the homeless charity’s headquarters. It was his first night alone on the streets. He did not even have a blanket to keep him warm.

Sadly, youngsters forced to sleep rough are by no means a rare occurrence; in fact, the issue is only worsening, explains Threshold’s events and fundraising coordinator Nikka Pomponi.

“Young people can be in an argument or don’t get along with a step-parent and the next thing they’re being asked to leave the house and end up homeless; that’s an issue we see often,” she sighs.

“And austerity measures have had a massive impact on people becoming homeless.”

And yet from the moment someone, anyone, with no other alternative crosses the ‘homeless line’, they suddenly become invisible to the rest of the world, a faceless outsider often blamed and openly condemned for their own misfortune.

This widespread prejudice and stigma attached to homelessness – compounded by Public Spaces Protection Orders enforced across the country and, as of February in Swindon town centre, which see people fined for begging or anti-social behaviour – are holding our society back from tackling a mounting problem and bringing men and women in truly desperate situations back from the brink, the charity believes.

In an attempt to bridge the divide and open a window into the circumstances which drive people onto the streets, Threshold Housing Link will hold Come Dine With Us on Sunday evening.

The dinner at St Mark’s Church will see the Mayor, officials and other guests share a meal with 30 of the charity’s users, most of them rough sleepers, and a small number further along the rehabilitation process.

The organisation’s goal is simple: to put a face to the anonymous shadows fleetingly glimpsed bundled in a sleeping bag in a carpark or taking shelter from the downpour under a grubby porch and show them for who they really are – victims and members of their community as much as the bank employee or nurse next door.

“I watched a video on Facebook of a soup kitchen that did it in America,” says Nikka.

“I thought it was a really nice idea, people dining with dignity. I wanted to invite members of the community, to have everybody served as equals and to interact.

"What people don’t realise is many people are two pay packets away or a landlord selling up from being on the street.

"We want the community to see they are real people, with problems, and it’s not necessarily their fault they are this way.”

Guest will be treated to a three-course menu of tomato soup, jerk chicken and rice or ratatouille for vegetarians and apple crumble or cheesecake, cooked by volunteers. Refreshments will be provided by Sainsbury’s while the desserts will be prepared by Lesley Harwood. The ingredients have been donated by the Co-Op and the crockery by Columbia Threadneedle Investments.

“We want to give the guys an opportunity to get their voices heard,” adds Nikka. “Sometimes people become a statistic.”

Steven Donohue, 34, a resident at Threshold’s supported accommodation for people with substance misuse issues Old Appleyard, will be on hand at the event to shed light on the stark realities of homelessness and his daily fight to survive the streets.

A recovering alcoholic, who “fell off the wagon” at just 14 years old, Steven found himself homeless at the age of 22 after being kicked out of his mother’s home.

He would live in car parks, beg and find sporadic shelter in hostels, only to be thrown out because of his aggressive behaviour and drink addiction, for the next 12 years.

“I’ve been through hell and back but now I’ve been off the alcohol for five and a half months,” he beams. “I slept in car parks mostly. But what people don’t understand is that you don’t choose that life, it chooses you. No-one wants you and that’s how it starts. It’s hard on your own.

"You’re scared, you worry things could happen to you. Sometimes people would come along and take your bag, take money off you.”

When he was offered a place at Appleyard, he took the decision to go cold turkey instead of weaning himself off gradually. He suffered serious fits as a result.

Now on a steadier footing, he devotes his energy to welding futuristic life-size robot sculptures made out of recycled materials, which will be displayed around the hall on Sunday, and caring for the clutch of chickens kept in Appleyard’s garden.

“Threshold helped me; even when I was in a bad place, they didn’t give up on me,” adds Steven, known as ‘Shaky’ because of the constant trembling caused by his heavy drinking.

“They treat people with respect. To them you’re not a homeless person, you’re a person. If it wasn’t for them I’d be dead on the street.”

Addiction is a familiar extenuating circumstance when dealing with homelessness.

Unlike Steven though, David was a typical white collar, stable, married, until a criminal conviction last October thrust him in a downward spiral.

He lost his job as a mortgage and insurance advice assessor, his marriage broke down and he was forced to leave his home.

With no family or friends to turn to, he hopped from B&B to cheap hotel room for four days until his meagre savings ran out. At the end of his tether he reached out to the council who suggested he contact Threshold.

“Everything went wrong and all of a sudden I didn’t have anywhere to go; I didn’t have any options,” confides the 33-year-old.

The common idea that the homeless fit a certain profile is just a myth, he insists.

“I came from a stable background,” he says. “It can happen to anyone. With Threshold there was no judgement. I probably would not have been able to make it without them.

"Now I’m focusing on getting somewhere more stable and permanent, trying to find a job.”

Threshold runs a number of initiatives including a Street Outreach Service, lunch club, emergency hostel at Culvery Court and move-on houses to prepare users to get back into society and live independently.

At last count the outreach team was supporting or ‘interacting with’ 65 rough sleepers in Swindon. This is 13 more than last year already. The charity as a whole is dealing with 112 people, some of them former clients who have moved on to their own accommodation.

Caring for and offering accommodation to people like Steven and David sets the charity back more than £1m annually. Thankfully it receives a large portion of its running costs from Swindon Council. But the grant does not cover all of its ongoing work and, this year alone, the organisation will have to raise £34,000 through appeals and donations to stay afloat.

As more people run into find themselves in dire financial issues, demand for the charity’s services is steadily increasing. Uncertainty over funding next year, as not-for-profit groups across Swindon submit new tenders to the council, could place Threshold’s services at serious risk.

“We are struggling as a charity,” admits Sarah Maddocks, Threshold business manager.

“We are not as high up on the list as children’s charities or things like that.”

Nikka nods: “People can relate to cancer charities more than they maybe can to a homeless charity.

"We want to really make a difference within the community, change perception of what being homeless means and help as many people as we can."



