As ever, writing is the hardest thing for me to do.
It takes massive amounts of energy, concentration levels that exhausts and requires hours of time, re-reading, correcting and trying to get complex ideas into simple sentences.
I'm writing this is in the Shakespeare's Head Weatherspoon Pub on Holborn.
I'm using a Lenovo Computer (and that latter word I use in its losesest sense - because this is a Window's device I didn't want, rushing in to John Lewis to find something quickly as my Lenovo Tablet was playing up (being forced by extremely poor programming and design to require an Android Update that entirely scrubbed the device). I wanted a Lenovo Yoga Computer, but even though there was one on display, they didn't have it in stock - I ended up with this rubbish windows ideapad3205.
Windows makes no sense, neither does Google Android or Apple OS. They force me to work in a way that works for them rather than being, as it should, a useful tool for me.
The entire popultation of the city of London have become moronic slaves to Facebook, Google, Apple & Microsoft.
Rather than improving lives and making simple tasks more efficient. Everything now requires a work around. Something as simple as making a diary entry now takes 3 - 5 minutes as opposed to 10 - 20 seconds 20 years ago, as nothing about the interface makes sense.
I'm laden with displays that don't work for my benefit, Wifi that keeps me requiring to log onto it (and since Sky took over the Cloud - one that barely ever works), nothing about modern living has improved anything. It's ironic that my generation who learnt to code computer from our early teens are now battling with closed systems, that are only designed to give me adverts and make money for the company I purchased from.
This laptop for instance, clashes with all things Google, just getting Google to open in the Window I want it too, requires downloads and apps, that I just shouldn't need.
Since my last post, I lost the most wonderful woman I could have ever hoped to meet. Became bed-ridden for nearly 3 months (losing the entire of December 17 & January 7 February 2018) staying with a dear friend who I'd only recently met..
All the plans I had for 50 Years of |Trying came to naught. Londoners are no longer interested in the quirky, history, fun, exciting vibrant city I can offer them. Soho reflects that perfect, as there are ore chain stores there now than there are on Oxford Street (a light exageration to make a point).
Journalists are all too young and the scope of their knowledge too limited. They (with notable exceptions of |Dr. Francis Ryan at The Guardian & Ros Wynne Jones at the Mirror) believe the system works and the situation I find myself in must somehow be of my doing. Even though the overwhelming written evidence from the DWP, MP's and my own records could easily dispel this. I don't fit the idea of someone who is homeless (though very quickly getting to that point).
I'm back living on the streets again. Last night, I took the Piccadilly Line Tube to Heathrow Terminal 5. When I discovered the airport as a place to put my head down a few years ago, it was perfect. Public Showers were available and the police were incredibly helpful.
The police are still pretty reasonable, but the pressure to control the homeless at the airport has hugely increased, so it becomes a cat & mouse struggle. The public showers have gone. Timings work on the basis of getting there just after the Police doe their rounds (that used to be around 1:30am but last night was 3am).
Look like a traveller you tend to be left alone (my Louis Vuitton holdall helps inordinately in that regards).
The constant fight just to get the basic things in the UK is literally killing me now. I've just turned 50 and the last 10 years as been a constant battle between me and the DWP (as you'll know from my previous posts).
But Mark Field MP was the final straw. I live in a country where the DWP are now above the law, constantly lying, cheating, attacking the very people they are paid to serve, And how do you keep fighting the odds when most of your energies are focussed on getting people who are paid 10 times more than I receive in benefits to do their job.
I've been typing for 40 minutes now and my concentration is going all over the place. I'm getting upset at the thought of the stupidity of the situation.
Why can't an MP weigh up the facts they have in front of them. I've PROVEN through Appeals Courts, Policy Documents, Medical Evidence and the DWP's own correspondence that they are lying & cheating. Obfuscating.
I don't what else to do. My health is in crazy decline, help is coming from nowhere, hope has been entirely extingusihed and my drive to fight, decimated. What's the point of living, just to survive.'
When I started challenging the state when I was in care, it didn't make sense to me then, but at 16 I made the Civil Service staff look as stupid as they actually were. Now, I can do the same, but noboy is responsible.
When you look around you, you see just how simple everything is to fix, if only people thought differently, offered to help, said yes. When I did a deal with the manager of the Tune Hotel in Waterloo it made sense to both of us. I'd get a room for £20 after midnight - he earned money, I got protection when temperatures were too cold to sleep in my car.
When he offered me a couple of free nights for my birthday, it was one of the loveliest gestures. But this was the General Manager of the company, and when some 20 something manager came in, she didn't see the value of doing the same thing.
For her, the relationship had to be one way, her making money, me paying money. Why should I get preferential rates? It didn't cross her mind, that I was giving her money she otherwise would not have coming in.
And that's what's made the past couple of years nigh on impossible to keep fighting.
I needed someone to say yes, to help.
I'm taking the DWP to Judicial Review through the Public Law Project who've already been paid £25,000 whilst I've recieved nothing. They get paid whether they win or lose, so there laughing to the bank either way. This is coming out of Legal Aid. They lost the compensation part of my claim, which means the most I can expect to get covered is around £10,000 - it would have been better just to have given me the Legal Aid money directly.
What would you do if you were in my situation?
The DWP, due to your disability is your only means of income. They've been proven to have lied about your claim, saying they'd been in touch with your GP, but your GP has confirmed they haven't communicated with him in over 4 years.
You have no home, it's impossible to get home until you know you have a regular income.
So you have no money, even though you are legally entitled to it.
You have nowhere to live.
Your health means you have the sword of damocles constantly hanging over your head.
The only person you think has the authority to put things right is your MP Makr Field - but he does nothing.
How would you resolve the problem? Who would you turn too?
How would you eat? Where would you get the hope to keep going rather than simply taking your own life? Who would you speak too?
I've ran out of options - so would love to hear?
It takes massive amounts of energy, concentration levels that exhausts and requires hours of time, re-reading, correcting and trying to get complex ideas into simple sentences.
I'm writing this is in the Shakespeare's Head Weatherspoon Pub on Holborn.
I'm using a Lenovo Computer (and that latter word I use in its losesest sense - because this is a Window's device I didn't want, rushing in to John Lewis to find something quickly as my Lenovo Tablet was playing up (being forced by extremely poor programming and design to require an Android Update that entirely scrubbed the device). I wanted a Lenovo Yoga Computer, but even though there was one on display, they didn't have it in stock - I ended up with this rubbish windows ideapad3205.
Windows makes no sense, neither does Google Android or Apple OS. They force me to work in a way that works for them rather than being, as it should, a useful tool for me.
The entire popultation of the city of London have become moronic slaves to Facebook, Google, Apple & Microsoft.
Rather than improving lives and making simple tasks more efficient. Everything now requires a work around. Something as simple as making a diary entry now takes 3 - 5 minutes as opposed to 10 - 20 seconds 20 years ago, as nothing about the interface makes sense.
I'm laden with displays that don't work for my benefit, Wifi that keeps me requiring to log onto it (and since Sky took over the Cloud - one that barely ever works), nothing about modern living has improved anything. It's ironic that my generation who learnt to code computer from our early teens are now battling with closed systems, that are only designed to give me adverts and make money for the company I purchased from.
This laptop for instance, clashes with all things Google, just getting Google to open in the Window I want it too, requires downloads and apps, that I just shouldn't need.
Since my last post, I lost the most wonderful woman I could have ever hoped to meet. Became bed-ridden for nearly 3 months (losing the entire of December 17 & January 7 February 2018) staying with a dear friend who I'd only recently met..
All the plans I had for 50 Years of |Trying came to naught. Londoners are no longer interested in the quirky, history, fun, exciting vibrant city I can offer them. Soho reflects that perfect, as there are ore chain stores there now than there are on Oxford Street (a light exageration to make a point).
Journalists are all too young and the scope of their knowledge too limited. They (with notable exceptions of |Dr. Francis Ryan at The Guardian & Ros Wynne Jones at the Mirror) believe the system works and the situation I find myself in must somehow be of my doing. Even though the overwhelming written evidence from the DWP, MP's and my own records could easily dispel this. I don't fit the idea of someone who is homeless (though very quickly getting to that point).
I'm back living on the streets again. Last night, I took the Piccadilly Line Tube to Heathrow Terminal 5. When I discovered the airport as a place to put my head down a few years ago, it was perfect. Public Showers were available and the police were incredibly helpful.
The police are still pretty reasonable, but the pressure to control the homeless at the airport has hugely increased, so it becomes a cat & mouse struggle. The public showers have gone. Timings work on the basis of getting there just after the Police doe their rounds (that used to be around 1:30am but last night was 3am).
Look like a traveller you tend to be left alone (my Louis Vuitton holdall helps inordinately in that regards).
The constant fight just to get the basic things in the UK is literally killing me now. I've just turned 50 and the last 10 years as been a constant battle between me and the DWP (as you'll know from my previous posts).
But Mark Field MP was the final straw. I live in a country where the DWP are now above the law, constantly lying, cheating, attacking the very people they are paid to serve, And how do you keep fighting the odds when most of your energies are focussed on getting people who are paid 10 times more than I receive in benefits to do their job.
I've been typing for 40 minutes now and my concentration is going all over the place. I'm getting upset at the thought of the stupidity of the situation.
Why can't an MP weigh up the facts they have in front of them. I've PROVEN through Appeals Courts, Policy Documents, Medical Evidence and the DWP's own correspondence that they are lying & cheating. Obfuscating.
I don't what else to do. My health is in crazy decline, help is coming from nowhere, hope has been entirely extingusihed and my drive to fight, decimated. What's the point of living, just to survive.'
When I started challenging the state when I was in care, it didn't make sense to me then, but at 16 I made the Civil Service staff look as stupid as they actually were. Now, I can do the same, but noboy is responsible.
When you look around you, you see just how simple everything is to fix, if only people thought differently, offered to help, said yes. When I did a deal with the manager of the Tune Hotel in Waterloo it made sense to both of us. I'd get a room for £20 after midnight - he earned money, I got protection when temperatures were too cold to sleep in my car.
When he offered me a couple of free nights for my birthday, it was one of the loveliest gestures. But this was the General Manager of the company, and when some 20 something manager came in, she didn't see the value of doing the same thing.
For her, the relationship had to be one way, her making money, me paying money. Why should I get preferential rates? It didn't cross her mind, that I was giving her money she otherwise would not have coming in.
And that's what's made the past couple of years nigh on impossible to keep fighting.
I needed someone to say yes, to help.
I'm taking the DWP to Judicial Review through the Public Law Project who've already been paid £25,000 whilst I've recieved nothing. They get paid whether they win or lose, so there laughing to the bank either way. This is coming out of Legal Aid. They lost the compensation part of my claim, which means the most I can expect to get covered is around £10,000 - it would have been better just to have given me the Legal Aid money directly.
What would you do if you were in my situation?
The DWP, due to your disability is your only means of income. They've been proven to have lied about your claim, saying they'd been in touch with your GP, but your GP has confirmed they haven't communicated with him in over 4 years.
You have no home, it's impossible to get home until you know you have a regular income.
So you have no money, even though you are legally entitled to it.
You have nowhere to live.
Your health means you have the sword of damocles constantly hanging over your head.
The only person you think has the authority to put things right is your MP Makr Field - but he does nothing.
How would you resolve the problem? Who would you turn too?
How would you eat? Where would you get the hope to keep going rather than simply taking your own life? Who would you speak too?
I've ran out of options - so would love to hear?
2 comments:
Paul I'm really sorry to hear the situation you are currently in, my office is in Old Street Id like to offer you the use of the shower here if it helps, I will also gladly buy you a pint and a warm meal. give me a shout
chris@gentlemensgoods.com
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