This is Home: Storm Simon calls Bethnal Green home, and the train bridge by the tube is her roof
Storm Simon, a homeless care leaver has been aged by struggles most of us never encounter, but her youth and excitement for life are palpable when we chat to her about falling in love, her dog and jungle music.
Storm, 25, has been homeless for five years, but she calls Bethnal Green, where she has spent most of this period, her home. Having grown up in care in Nottingham, she came to Bethnal Green for a party, fell in love and has never left.
A true tale of tragic romance, she stays on the street to be close to her partner, as she has found shelters won’t let them share a room.
After living in a squat, whose location she won’t disclose for fear of it being shut down she became homeless and has survived on the streets for five years. Initially, it seemed more of an itinerant life choice, nomadic, and free to come and go after years in a restrictive care system. But then she got ill.
I first approached Storm perched on a damp mattress under the bridge. Staring into the middle distance, she seemed lost in thought, and I felt like an intruder in her living room. When she realised I wanted to interview her for an article, she asked suspiciously if I worked for the Daily Mail. When I said no she agreed to chat.
Reserved at first, it was difficult to distinguish her quiet assured voice in the hubbub of the street with the trains trundling overhead adding to the clamour. I suggested a cafe but she was reticent to leave her spot as her partner had gone to get a power bank from a women’s shelter and she didn’t have a phone to explain why she would have left.
Hunger won out, however, and she suggested Starbucks because she had liked it when she was little. We grabbed her a latte, extra hot, extra shot with five sugars and a caramel muffin, microwaved please.
Using her fingers to swish the icing into her mouth, she dropped her coffee over the sleeping bag she’d been too nervous to leave. Suddenly, the bravado faltered and she looked on the verge of tears. ’I needed that’ she said. When I offered a replacement, she looked at me surprised. ‘It’s ok’ I assured her. Nervous about her partner worrying, and perhaps of the looks we had received in the shop, we briefly parted ways. I grabbed another coffee and met her back under the bridge.
Understandably wary, initially Storm provided monosyllabic answers. Her tone veered between the reticent, and occasionally confrontational on certain topics, but elevated with an excitable passion when talking about things she loved.
When speaking about her partner, she swoons and her eyes grow misty, revealing vestiges of youthful hope and innocence. I sense a brazen strength in her, but also how young she is.
After a couple of mutual giggles, she loosens up offering up titbits about her life unprompted. Her eyes stop darting as much, engaging with me.
Unwilling to go into depth about her family, she nevertheless has strong views on the state of Tower Hamlet’s homelessness services.
The home she shares with her partner is only a bare mattress when vacant. But when they hole up to buffet out the world, it is an assortment of boxes, carefully angled umbrellas to block the wind, and sleeping bags meticulously placed to provide maximum shelter – always arranged in exactly the same way.
Last Christmas Tower Hamlets recorded one of the highest homeless populations in England. Shelter’s research last December found that there were 7,576 homeless people in Tower Hamlets with 17 sleeping rough. That is 1 in every 43 people compared to England’s average of 1 in 183. Anyone who has walked the streets of the borough also knows it is likely a much larger number without a roof than the official number recorded.
It is also likely to be higher now, as last week a report by the cross-party London Councils Group found that homelessness in the capital had hit an all-time high at 183,000.
Where are you from, what can you tell me about your family and your childhood?
I am from Nottingham, I have two younger sisters; I don’t want to give their names. I have been here for five years since I was 19 and have been homeless with my partner who’s a bit older. She looks after me.
Where did you meet?
We met in a squat; we’ve been together five years. We used to have a dog, a pit bull terrier, but she got taken by the Council a while back.
What’s your partner called?
‘Mischa.’
I mispronounce the name. ‘Like Mischa Barton?’ I ask. We both giggle and she lets me sit down next to her on the mattress.
What is your earliest memory?
A record shop, yeah definitely. I remember there was a TV playing MTV hits.
Do you like music?
‘Yes, I love it!’ She looks me straight in the eyes for the first time.
What are you into? Visibly jigging she smiles, and her voice gains a new strength.
‘Yeah, All the underground music but I listen to it less these days. We used to have a record player in the squat but then it got stolen. I love boogieing to jungle and grime, reggae is my jam you just drift with it.’
Why did you leave the squat?
‘Our dog bit someone and they kicked us out a couple of months ago. Some guy moved my blanket while I was sleeping and he bit him. Was he quite protective? Yeah, the guy told the police he was trying to give me chocolate but he didn’t have any chocolate and the lead had got undone during the night. We were always so careful I should have tied it tighter. You get a lot of creeps and weirdos on the streets.’
Do you ever stay in hostels?
‘I’m always on the street. I spent a few months in a hostel but I want to be with Mischa and they won’t let us share a room. They’re quite homophobic so we don’t get as much help as straight couples.’
What is your earliest food memory?
‘Erm dunno. Food?’
What has contributed to you ending up without a home?
‘Not having an education.’
Was it not very good teaching what was going on?
‘It was that and growing up in care. Yeah and I never got offered support from outside, no one supported me, I kept running away.’
Has anyone approached you and tried to help?
‘A few times yeah. But they would never let me and Mischa stay together.’
Have you ever been in love? I guess that’s a yes? We giggled together, she blushes.
‘Yeah’
What are the misconceptions people have about homelessness if any?
‘Yeah, it’s the society they judge, and, you know, drug addiction is an illness.’
Are you still struggling with that?
‘Yeah.’
Have you ever had any treatment?
‘Nothing.’
What triggered the start of your addiction?
‘I was just really stressed, and I got ill and they put me on pain meds.’
How has sleeping rough changed your views, has the experience changed over time?
‘Yeah because I wasn’t doing drugs for the first couple of years. I was more free to travel.
What are your favourite places around here and why did you stay here?
‘It reminds me a little bit of Nottingham and part of it is fun and everything, interesting. A little bit like Texas where I used to live.’
What were you doing there?
She looks coy, ‘With a past relationship, but yeah I’m happy here.’
Did it feel more like hippy life before addiction?
Yeah.
What do you want, what’s the dream?
‘A canal boat with my partner.’
What would be the best way to help?
‘A council house.’
You say you’re not on the waiting list. What would be the best way for someone to help you get on housing wait lists?
‘Hmm, people need to come out to us here.’
Do you have any hope?
‘Definitely… Yeah always’. The force in her voice is back with a vigour. She smiles blithely, the bravado is back but it also seems genuine. She is not broken yet.
You said you like street art. Do you like painting? What do you want to do?
‘I don’t know’. (her voice hardened). ‘I used to party but not anymore. I still go to a few gigs but not like the old days I used to be really plugged into the scene ya know – maybe a DJ?’
Is there anything else you’d like to add?
‘No, thank you.’
