They’ve bags of swank, my lads. Shiny boots and nice short hair. And if you think the boots’ll give me away – if you’re thinking the fella I get ’em off must be starting to wonder – forget it. I don’t go to one fella, I go to three. So far. And there’ll be more yet, by golly there will. You don’t catch old Shelter that easily.

So the business continues. Volunteers swell the ranks. And they are volunteers, you know – nobody forces ’em to come. They come for what recruits have always come for – an end to hunger and a roof over their heads, and they get it. None of my lads is hungry, and they’ve got a roof over their heads and a floor as well. I sometimes think I spoil ’em.

Where was I? Oh, yes – spring, and the real world.

It was magic being with Gail. Like I said, I seemed to stop noticing the cold, and tapping became a sort of game for us – a contest to see who could score most. It wasn’t heavy – I don’t mean that. It was a light-hearted game – I never minded when Gail won, which she often did.

Mind you, the situation had its drawbacks. For a start I got jealous of Gail. Possessive, I suppose. I hated letting her out of my sight. She was so good-looking I was terrified some guy’d come along – someone with a job and a car and a place to live, maybe – and snatch her away. Well – it’d be no contest would it? And that was the other drawback. I started wanting work so I could offer her a home. I’d always wanted a job of course, but now it became a longing almost an obsession. Worst thing was, I knew it was a non-starter – nobody was going to give me a chance the way I looked now – but it didn’t stop me wanting, or trying. I really did try, too. I haunted the Job Centre, wrote letters on nicked paper, bought stamps I couldn’t afford – I even had a couple of interviews but I never got a result. They know, you see. If you have to give some job club as a return address, they know you’ve nowhere to live. They know you haven’t worked in a long time – maybe never, and they don’t want to know. They’ve so many applicants to choose from, why should they take on a dosser? I wouldn’t, if I was in their shoes.