When I first started doing this diary I expected to write frequent updates but sometimes life takes over and the best of intentions slip away. And that is exactly what has happened. I still go out with Street Pastors and I’m still enjoying the work. My preferred night is Friday when we work in Fallowfield and Withington; this is because I love being with the students, it keeps me young. 

Manchester South street pastors are currently struggling for money and our funding is running out, but thankfully, volunteers don’t cost anything so we continue to do our work. However, training and uniforms do cost money and in order to be sustainable we must always seek and train new recruits. So we carry on, along with all other third sector initiatives, finding funding where we can. 

We have recently made a change to our Friday nights; originally we worked from 10:00 PM until 3:00 AM, but found that whilst everywhere was quiet up until about midnight, at 3:00 AM when we were going home, everywhere was still really busy. As a result we now work from midnight until 4:00 AM and we find that we are busy throughout the time we are out. At the moment, when I arrive home, it’s actually daylight!

I was beginning to think that I had come against all eventualities and there was nothing else I could tell you about but then there are always surprises.

It was a Friday night a couple of weeks ago, we were crossing Moseley road at the junction with Wilmslow road when we saw a woman, in her mid-forties, meandering along the pavement whilst talking on her mobile. I use the term meandering loosely, she was walking the walk of someone who’d had a little too much to drink and couldn’t quite manage a straight line. We asked her if she was OK.

She was not OK and she definitely needed help. Having arranged a sleepover for her son she had met up with a man, the brother of her neighbour, and she had lost him. Apparently she had arrived at his flat where they were supposed to have supper but he suggested they go out for a drink first. Unfortunately, whilst out she had lost him and he hadn’t answered or returned any of her calls; to be fair the bars are that busy he probably hadn’t heard his phone but nevertheless she was stranded. She apologised saying that she must be having a mid-life crisis; she had been flattered by the attentions of a younger man and her planned night of passion had turned into a nightmare. 

She didn’t know where she was and didn’t know where his flat was and that’s where she had parked her car. However, she was in no fit state to drive and initially asked us to find her a taxi. The only problem was that she lived the other side of Oldham and was quoted a fare of £45.00; she couldn’t afford it and neither could we. She continued to phone her fella but the calls remained unanswered. He was called every name under the sun as you can imagine. 

Thankfully the keys to her car were in his flat; basically she was up the creek without a paddle and we were at a loss as to what to do next. There was no-one she could contact to pick her up and if she couldn’t afford the taxi fare she couldn’t afford a hotel room! It was going to be a long night as we wouldn’t be leaving her stranded.  It was at this point that she had remembered that the flat keys were in her bag; eureka but where was the flat? 

Apparently the flat was down a street near the BP garage. Well that was a start as we knew where the BP garage was, she had been looking on the wrong road. Linking her arm we started to walk towards the said garage; whilst not unattractive she was a big girl and I did wonder if I would end up in A&E as I supported her along the road. As we neared the BP garage we came to the only street that matched her description and proceeded along it, as well as the house we were looking for her car, of which, she had given me part of the registration number. As we neared the bottom end of the street with no joy I was giving up hope; we began to retrace our steps when I saw the car, we had just walked right past it. What a relief. 

The relief was short lived as she couldn’t find the house keys in her bag. She asked me to look. I hate looking through peoples belongings, I always worry that they’ll accuse me of stealing something and so I ensured that a colleague was with me all the time. After what seemed like hours but was probably 10 minutes the keys were located. We then tried the front door and I couldn’t open it so Roger tried but to no avail. Tricia tried, failed, prayed and opened the door. Tricia is a lady of prayer and I can learn a lot from her. We were hoping for a ground floor flat but no such luck it was on the top floor. We don’t normally go into people’s houses and I wasn’t particularly happy to go into this flat but felt we had little choice but to see her safely inside. So up 2 flights of steps we went, she was still clinging onto me and her grip was like a vice; I was thinking that if she fell now we were both dead. At the top we faced another door and yet another dodgy lock but once again Tricia prayed and the door was open. 

Once inside our lovely lady felt she had to prove her right to be there; as far as I was concerned she had keys and therefore entitled; her proof? She offered to show us the clean knickers she had brought for the morning! 

We left her safe and sound in the flat but I did wonder what had happened to the “boyfriend”; were we going to find him sleeping rough because he’d lost his lady and his flat keys? Or had he had cold feet and gone round to a mates? I’ll probably never know but what I do know is that I wouldn’t want to be him when she finally got hold of him!

 

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