daffodils
I live near an area of Dundee that's affectionately known as "needle row"... pick a closie and you could wrap a christmas turkey with the amount of used tin foil in it. Between needle row and the town centre, there are plenty "interesting" people to meet. Many are the usual crazy/drugged up hobos you see all over Scotland, but there are a few who are true legends. Apologies now, this is not a funny story, it just kinda highlights that not all homeless people are junkies, some are the complete opposite.

Lisa was awesome. She used to sit in the overpass at the station in the winter, minding her own business and staying warm. She was quite possibly the sweetest girl i've ever met, so cheerful even though she'd had a horrible life.

The first time I met her, it was early December. She hadn't eaten in about 9 days, and was nearly unconscious. The pile of Big Issues she'd been trying to sell lay unsold beside her, no one buys them in Dundee. I took her to MacDonalds and she told me her story. Her parents were junkies in Glasgow, both heavily into heroin, and used to beat her, or worse, pretty much when the mood took them. She'd ran away when she was 15 after they'd tried to prostitute her to earn drug money. She didn't have a proper education, but was desperately trying to get a job. She'd go to the job centre nearly every day, looking for jobs and getting out of the cold for a bit. She'd applied for several jobs, but they all refused her as she didn't have an address. I got her a hotel room once, she insisted that she'd get a job in Tesco or something and pay me back. she ripped a corner off a Big Issue and wrote me an I.O.U. Everytime we met she told me how her job search was going, what she'd been up to, where she'd been. Sometimes she'd spend her day wandering about the parks, picking flowers. She loved them, she was amazed that something so pretty could grow from nothing but dirt. She told me once that it gave her hope in the spring when the daffodils came out, she knew that she would be ok.

For someone who'd lived on the street for nearly a decade, and had no more than a primary school education, she was incredibly warm and quick witted. Any time I was getting a train, or if I was bored in town, I'd sit and speak with her for ages, sharing cigarettes and cider and having a sly laugh at the businessmen who spent their whole day getting stressed over things that don't really matter. Someone gave her an old mobile phone once, the only numbers she had in it were me, a couple of my mates and the Samaritans hotline. I always felt a bit guilty when I went home to my warm house, knowing that she was still out there, huddled in the overpass trying to keep out of the rain. Whenever she saw me going for a train she made sure to give me a hug, and told me she prayed that I'd get there safe.

The council started to revamp the area around the station last year, and knocked down the overpass. Lisa had to move to the station doorway, with no shelter from the elements, but was still her chipper self, chattting to whoever would listen and sharing her last cigarette.

They found her on the 20th January this year, sat in her usual spot at the station doors. She'd died of pneumonia, and was frozen solid. She'd been ill for weeks, but refused to move in case someone stole her spot. She'd been grieving for one of her friends, another Big Issue seller who'd been stabbed outside M&S a week before. It was strange to think that Lisa and her flowers wouldn't be there anymore, and to see the impact she'd made on the lives of other Dundonians.

When spring came this year i made sure to leave a bunch of daffodils in her spot, along with a cigarette and the I.O.U. ripped in half. Next time someone asks you for change, please don't snub them and justify it with some druggie excuse... even if you only have 5 minutes, get to know them a little... they might just be another Lisa.

Apologies for lack of funnies. And length.

here's a link to the BBC site about her, any other Scumdonians on here might remember her and her awesomeness :)

news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/scotland/tayside_and_central/7861600.stm
(DonMorte Cake is a made up drug, Sat 4 Jul 2009, 5:33, 10 replies)

Shitting crikey mate
A tear has just been brought to mine eye.

'I like this' seems rather inappropriate.


*click*
(anvil, Sat 4 Jul 2009, 13:19, closed)

:(
*cries*... very moving, I have no words really other than life can be too cruel.
( catweasle neither a cat nor a weasle, Sat 4 Jul 2009, 20:18, closed)

Another tear here.
Clicking like it doesn't seem quite right but it deserves to be seen. I'm glad I read it but sader that there are such stories to have to read. What a waste :-(
(Iceborn, Sat 4 Jul 2009, 20:21, closed)

yeah, me too
this makes me want to cry. It reminds me of the story of the Little Matchgirl for some reason
(maggotriddendirtbox fast, feral and sharp as a tack since, Mon 6 Jul 2009, 8:07, closed)

Jesus.
I'm currently sat at my desk, trying not to cry.
(ScousersPet, Mon 6 Jul 2009, 15:10, closed)

^ This.
Beautiful.
(TheColonel, Mon 6 Jul 2009, 16:51, closed)

Ouch
Sat at my desk crying, getting very strange looks from a boss type direction.
(Obi wanker nobi Its not a bug, its an unexpected feature, Mon 6 Jul 2009, 16:06, closed)

Such a waste
Tragedy - Kinda puts into perspective how damn lucky most of us are
There by the grace of whomever you place your faith in
(Said Debt, Tue 7 Jul 2009, 11:08, closed)

I remember her
..and the other big issue seller who I saw regularly. he was lovely and always opened the door to M&S for me as I was pushing a buggy about. The new guy doesn't
(ladraven, Tue 7 Jul 2009, 22:19, closed)

Yes, I remember Lisa well
Unfortunately I also know of a man who used to use her 'services', and I don't mean he bought a Big Issue from her. And the bloke who opened the door of M&S also used to say a cheery 'thank you' even when you declined to buy a mag from him.


*click*
( K2k6 has a proper job these days, Wed 8 Jul 2009, 8:29, closed)