Today I gave to a beggar

Today I gave money to a beggar. I rarely give to beggars yet I never walk past one without some stinging guilt at the sight of an outstretched arm and pleading voice.

I'm well off and they are not. Yet I opt to hide behind the work ethic - the belief that they could be doing something useful - anything - to help themselves. Why not sweep the streets?

If I give them money, I reason, they'll only go and spend it on drink. At Waterloo station today a beggar came on the train and told people he needed £4.60 that would buy him enough shelter for the rest of the week. I didn't believe him but I gave him all I had all the same, which wasn't quite enough if he was telling the truth.

Instead of feeling good about it I felt guilty again, partly for breaking ranks with fellow passengers, partly because I'm sure there are others who deserve it more, and partly because it wasn't enough; it never is.

Most of all though, it's the feeling that giving to beggars is not going to end poverty. Creating a society where family values still matter, where a social safety net is an entitlement, not a gesture of charity. That's the solution.

High sounding words but not much use to the train beggar. The station authorities say it's wrong to encourage begging. They have a point but what I do with my own money is my business and today I gave some to a beggar. What he does with it now is his business.

Troglodyte

Troglodyte

Feel the pressing blast of tunnel warmth,
Read the last dishonest billboard line,
Hear the building electronic whine,
Smell the fetid, dense, metallic fumes,
See the tired, pallid, neutral faces,
Taste the oil and dirt and sweat,
Touch the greasy, yellow plastic pole,
Climb the furrowed, shiny moving stairs,
Gulp the noisy city air in heaving, tortured lungs,
And dive again.

Written on the Jubilee line between Green Park and Waterloo Station after a good lunch, 18.7.07

Telly people from Tellyland where strange is good

Why was Alan Yentob, the BBC's creative director, standing on Waterloo Station this afternoon alongside a woman holding an artichoke in one hand and an arm from a tailor's dummy in the other?

In Tellyland everything strange is good.

I know an old joke where the punchline is: Artichokes two for a pound at Tesco's. You need to work backwards from there.