Somewhere in the night, a ships horn sounded, a long, drawn-out, mournful tone, lingering as if to envelope everything in its wake. A vehicle passed by, splashing rain water all over my winter coat, the water running down my legs and into my shoes, causing me to shudder and close my eyes tight, tears mingling with the rain as it soaked my skin. 2
After almost half an hour, I could hear the chug-chug of the train on the rails across the river, I knew now I didn't have much further to go, sure enough, there in front of me about four hundred yards ahead, I could see the dim light that was showing through the small square window and I quickened my pace.3
Reaching the dilapidated, brick building, I went round to the side... lifting the latch and pushing the door forward, I slowly went toward the sound of voices; raised voices, muted voices, argumentative voices, teenage kids from different backgrounds, the familiar sight always tore at my heart, always made me want to gather each soul into my arms and give them hope, knowing it was but a drop in the ocean...yet I knew I had to come.4
The faces that confronted me were expectant, waiting, each one was dressed in shabby, ill-fitting clothing and looked as if they hadn't had a good meal in years. I stood there feeling inside as if I wanted to run back to my warm, cosy home, but I couldn't, not until I had accomplished what I had come to do... help feed these homeless teenage kids for tonight and the next night at least.5
All eyes turned toward me, I just stood there and smiled; catching the eye of each teenager in the room. Slowly, they began to move toward me in single file, no scrambling or pushing, just a quiet, methodical walk... now, a patient, hopeful smile on the face of each one, causing a lump to come up into my throat.6
These are the kids who have no home, no parents, just left to fend for themselves on the streets in the inner, large cities, teens who have been forced to flee from abuse and violence, hoping to find a better chance of survival than the one they have left behind.7
Although it pains me to see these kids in such a hopeless situation, I have to come here, I have to try, even for a short time, to bring some hope and comfort into their pitiful lives... the back streets of London, the underground platforms, the makeshift shelters of cardboard boxes that substitute as shelter and bedding for warmth, are no place to feel safe, to feel comfort, to feel loved and wanted.8
Across the street, a familiar van turns the corner; crosses the road and slowly pulls up to the curbside right beside the open door of the dilapidated brick building. For the next two nights, these teenagers will be eating a nourishing, hot, welcome meal, they will know that someone cared enough to make sure they don't go hungry at a time that is supposed to be the season of good will to all men... I ladle hot, nourishing soup into a bowl and hand out warm tea or coffee, accepted with a grateful smile and a nod from each one.9
How sad that after just two days.. these children of the streets will have to fend for themselves until the next time the familiar van comes around the corner, with food, at a time called 'the season of goodwill to all men.'10
~Katie~
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HAPPY NEW YEAR!!..weetbix
I take this opportunity to wish you a happy festive season and a wonderful New Year 
