Last year we partnered with the Orwell Foundation to offer the Orwell Prize for Reporting Homelessness. With the inaugural prize being awarded back in June to Freya Marshall Payne and Daniel Lavelle, both of whom wrote about their own experiences of homelessness, we are pleased to share a selection of entries by people with personal experience of homelessness or about personal stories of homelessness. 

Been There Done That! 

By Liam Maughan

From a happy home to homelessness, how could this possibly happen? I never in a million years thought I would be street homeless: literally sleeping outside in December, in the middle of winter in the snow. It's a wonder I didn't get hyperthermia...But I am getting ahead of myself. Let's go back to the beginning. 

Life growing up was good: Mam, step Dad and little Sister. Yes, there was arguing between parents but nothing too bad. School wasn't as smooth as it should have been but that's another story. Growing up, I started to experiment with drugs, as a lot of teenagers do. Cannabis at first, then came the harder drugs and alcohol which would eventually help put me in many a predicament. I have always had help and support from my mother, still to this day but I am a man and men don't like accepting help, we can do it on our own (NOT!). 

I have experienced homelessness in all its awful forms from sofa surfing, stinking hostels to bail hostels, bed and breakfasts, supported accommodation and, last but not least, sleeping rough. My time sofa surfing started after losing my flat due to not being able to pay rent. I started at my mother's house first for a good 13 months or so, sleeping either on a blow-up bed on the floor or on the settee which was very uncomfortable and embarrassing. This wasn't working for me or my mother so I packed up and moved on, not knowing this was going to be a journey and a half and last for years to come. 

Next, I found a bed and breakfast down on the coast which only lasted a few weeks before I got kicked out by the manager for allegedly taking drugs in the property. Luckily (if you can call it that) I ended up getting help from a housing association and getting a scruffy hostel just around the corner from the B % B, so not far to carry all my belongings. This was probably the second most nasty place I have lived apart from the streets as it was full of drink and drug-fuelled parties all day, all night. This probably sounds quite fun until you wake up one morning and realise you have a raging alcohol problem, no money, no self-worth and basically NO LIFE! This is also where I lost my front tooth, knocked out obviously... 

All in all, not a very nice place to live. I would say It was existing, not living. Next was prison due to my chaotic lifestyle but that's another story. 

When I came out of prison I was put in a bail or probation hostel up the west end of Newcastle upon Tyne. As soon as I walked in the door I was greeted with familiar faces, some of the lads I had met in prison and a few mates from my home town, North Shields. A double edge sword I would say. Drugs were offered before hand shakes and welcomes, so I instantly knew this was going to be a challenge to say the least. I spent three months in this hostel watching lads come and go, some recalled back to prison, some going home to their families. All in all, my time spent at that hostel wasn't too bad. We got hot cooked meals twice a day, had TV in our rooms and it was clean and tidy. On the down side, drugs ran rampant and I struggled daily to say no and ended up on a drug treatment plan through probation as an outcome. 

I left that hostel up Newcastle after three months and ended up back down on the coast in supported accommodation after being referred through my probation worker.. This was a three-story house and my room was an attic room which I loved> It had a mini fridge, big TV and had a great view. Surprising? Yes very, I agree. There was always lots of food but we had to cook it ourselves as there were six others living there. It was always clean and the staff were friendly. There were cameras everywhere and this would eventually be the reason I was kicked out. The staff would arrive about 8am and leave at 5pm. Visitors were allowed only between 9am - 4pm. I had a female friend who was homeless and I started sneaking her in at night so she had somewhere warm and safe to sleep. This turned into weekends, then every night nearly and staff saw this on camera and gave me a warning. I couldn't say no whenever my friend would ask me if she could stay the night so staff give me a final warning and I still did not listen. One day I was called into the office and told to pack my things because I was being made to move out. I tried talking my way out but to no avail. It was the middle of winter (22nd December), freezing cold, snowing and I was now homeless with this female friend (NIGHTMARE!). 

As I walked outside the cold and realisation of my predicament dawned on me and I have got to say I was terrified. I didn't have a clue what I was going to do. I 

had burnt bridges with everyone, and everyone I called didn't want to know so I was on my own. I called a friend and told her what had happened. She was a bit of an expert with homelessness so I tagged along with her and started to drink heavily daily just to cope with my hellish situation. First stop was The People's Kitchen up in Newcastle upon Tyne to get a sleeping bag and some warm food. I have got to give everyone at The People's Kitchen a massive shout out for the excellent work they do to help people affected by homelessness. Thanks guys xx! 

My first night sleeping rough was under a walkway at Whitley Bay metro station, mortal drunk to deal with the cold. he first metro was at 6am so we would jump straight on that to warm up. I have never been so cold in my whole life. I am sure we must have come close to catching hypothermia on more than one occasion. Eventually after about four weeks my friend and I went our separate ways; my drinking was seriously out of control and my mental health was suffering also. I found myself an abandoned garage around the corner from my mother's new flat and made a little bed out of some crates and a couple of duvets, which I acquired from my mother. It was crazy looking back but it was better than the metro station at least. 

I used to go down to the coast quite a lot to clear my head and watch the world go by and on more than one occasion I used to just sleep at the sea front on the benches overlooking the North Sea. Sometimes I would wake up and there would be soup in little containers left by people passing by. This would always put a smile on my face even though I never actually ate it (just in case it had been tampered with). Trust is something I just have not got, sadly. I was always asleep when this would take place so I never got a chance to say thank you On the other side of the coin I would wake up to find spit both on and around me which would reinforce my trust issues. Some people look at people who are experiencing homelessness with disgust and this was a perfect example. 

Back at my ‘home’ in the disused garage I was always freezing cold so I would light little fires to keep warm but on two occasions I fell asleep drunk and the fire took hold, filling the garage with smoke. Luckily there was an air brick that let out tiny amounts of smoke, just enough for a lady in the property behind the garage to see from her kitchen window. She rang the fire brigade, I woke up being dragged out by an fireman then lost unconsciousness and woke back up in hospital two 

days later with tubes coming out my mouth. I instantly pulled them out and loud noises were ringing out. When the nurses came rushing in they proceeded to tell me I had smoke inhalation and was lucky to be alive. 

After more tests they told me I had pneumonia on my left lung and was put on antibiotics. I didn't feel I needed to be in hospital so I signed myself out of hospital against the doctor’s orders because at this stage I didn't care about anything. I was coughing up black mucus as a result and put my antibiotics in the bin. At this stage death was an appealing thought (I was sick and tired of life!). 

I finally gave in and thought that ending things was the way out I so desperately needed. I stole a large kitchen knife from the store and was on my way back to my ‘home’ in the garage to end my life when I was stopped by police and arrested. I ended up being put on remand in prison for carrying a knife in public which was a relief from my situation, a warm cell bed, warm regular food and TV (oh how I missed TV). It's the little things that count! 

After a couple of months, I started to think that it was time to change, now or never. I was now 34 years old and had my whole life ahead of me. Once the drink and drugs were out of my system and I was thinking more clearly, this is where things started to change. When I was released from prison I did everything in my power to turn my life around. 

I was placed in a hotel of the council for six weeks the Premier Inn and I have got to say I loved every minute. After this I spent two months in a self-contained flat in a supported accommodation building known as Railway Terrace, notorious around my town for drugs and trouble but I just kept myself to myself and avoided taking drugs and drinking (four years sober as I write this). As a result, I was offered my very first flat and when I went to view it I couldn't believe it - finally after all these years struggling I was finally drink and drug free with a beautiful fully furnished flat in a lovely location. 

From that day I packed my things at my mother's and went on this crazy journey to feeling happy and at home (a real proper home). I was overwhelmed and actually shed a tear. I had finally made it. Now you know what I mean when I say "Been there done that!"