This one’s even more unusual than usual, about the man who lives in the park, and I know you won’t mind me having to leave out some, well…facts. All I can tell you, for good reasons, is that homeless Kevin’s home – he calls it Kevin’s Cabin – comes within the circulation areas of Greenwich, Lewisham and Bexley.
I’ll let him tell you more further into the piece, but what you might want to know straight away is what Kevin is like at 48. Well, he’s a fit former bus driver who doesn’t smoke or drink. For years he was an early morning market trader in Deptford High Street – and right now he’s happier than the average Larry, as long as ‘they’, his local council, don’t interfere with his lifestyle.
Which is why I’m holding on to a fact or two.
And, once he gets talking, there’s a semi-romantic angle in there as well. Kevin is slim, clean – ‘my Mum made sure I was always well kempt, neat and tidy’ – lively, articulate and…spiritual. Put another way, the one thing that would move him on from his current life of Riley would be the love and companionship of a good woman. So if you know someone…
But first, how did it all happen, Kevin?
When Mum passed two years ago we had a two-bedroom flat and I couldn’t stay there because it was registered to her. All they offered me was the phone number of a hostel. I told them not to bother because I wouldn’t be going there. I would rather find somewhere on the street.
‘It’s turned out to be a blessing in disguise because when you’re homeless you have to look around and find something…in October ‘22 I found a nice couple who gave me a spare room to look after their dog while they were at work, but I had to leave when there was a baby on the way.
‘I made the assumption that the council still wouldn’t help me, so I came to the park almost exactly a year ago. I had to learn to survive like Bear Grylls, who’s about the same age as me. A local nurse said she found it fascinating how I’ve survived. She said: “You’re clean, you’re tidy, you’re smart.”
‘I’m so used to being homeless now, and still being around people, that I wouldn’t want to be surrounded by four walls, going mad and needing to be back with mother nature. My cabin is very warm and I have to tell you that it’s all what people have given me, every bit. I stick my head in there and my face gets warm and goes bright red like a tomato.
‘If you find some sort of happiness in life, no matter where it is, you’ve got to hold on to it. It sounds a bit contradictory but I’ve found happiness at this time in my life and I don’t want it spoiled. I can move on when I choose to. If I’m lucky to meet someone, a lady, I could make something of it, but I’m quite happy alone because I’ve nothing to lose that way.
‘I’ve not got a phone but I was told that 180 people on Facebook supported me after the cabin was ransacked by kids. They also bring me meals, sandwiches, all sorts of things.’
Kevin even got a small business going in the park, mending people’s bikes, then showed us the council’s notice banning it. ‘It started when I was fixing my own bike. An older gentleman came along and said I could fix his bike and sell it for myself if I wanted to. Before I knew it I had bikes galore and was bigger than Halfords!
‘I got up to £500 and thought if I got £1,000 I could go to the council, give them the money and ask for some sort of accommodation. But their attitude was that I was a single man and had to work out things for myself. Then I got the notice banning my little business from the licensing department.’
Breakfast is important to Kevin. ‘I like muesli because generally I eat healthily, bran flakes, anything that keeps the system healthy…I went to the local foodbank and they gave me some food because I’m homeless. I had a voucher, and I was very popular very quickly because I like to get on with people.
‘I helped them with one or two things and it transpired from there. I helped people with their shopping, putting up tables and volunteering to do things like that. Lifting and loading, as I like to call it, and they give me a little bit of shopping for it.
‘I’ve been doing it for four or five months and the people there are fantastic. As my Mum said, kindness gets you everywhere and rudeness gets you nowhere. I go there Tuesdays and Thursdays, it’s linked to the church and on Tuesdays we have a prayer session because I’m a born again Christian as well. I’m there if they ever need an extra pair of hands.
‘I suppose the Christian thing happened because I’d hit rock bottom in life. I would say I’ve got a healthy respect for God. But I wouldn’t knock on people’s doors and push a Bible in their face. I’m not like that. I just blended into it. You only connect with people you get on with and I get on with them. I go to two churches on Sundays, one and the following week another. I like to meet different people.’
So where does Kevin hope to be in five or ten years’ time? He put it simply: ‘I’d like to be married to a lovely wife and have children, and be happy in a job I like doing. I’d like to find a different kind of happiness. I was a bus driver from 2003 to 2008. Then when my Mum wasn’t well I worked on market stalls at Deptford High Street and not be away from her so much.
‘I did that for about 15 years, what I knew, selling to people, mixing with people. I put the barrows out at 3 o’clock in the morning, then I’d set up structures and work on selling baby clothes and dresses during the day. It was “can you give us a hand, Kev”, and I’d love that. I worked with a bloke called Ginger, an Italian, on Saturdays since I was about 12. I was born and bred in Deptford, lived near Convoys Wharf. Sometimes I would sleep in the yard on cold Friday nights but would never complain. That’s how we lived. If you’ve got to work in the rain, you’ve got to work in the rain. It was drummed into me.’
Kevin describes his late Dad as ‘a little bit aloof and not interested in my life,’ adding: ‘My Mum – Maureen – brought me up single-handedly, with hand-me-down clothes. If it had been left to my Dad you wouldn’t be speaking to me here and now. You’d be speaking to me in prison. He was no good.
‘Mum left me a small amount of money from her savings when she passed, but this has taught me that money can’t buy happiness, not even for a millionaire. If someone offers me 10, 20, or even 50 pounds I don’t want it. Money might mean something as things move on to something else but right now it means nothing.’
As we spoke, a local mum called Liz with four kids said hello and asked Kevin to knock if he needed anything. ‘There you go. Life is about finding happiness. Grab hold of it even in the worst case scenario. You’ve mastered life with acceptance and adaptability. I’ve done that and to tell you the truth I wouldn’t want to change it. Life’s gravy, as I call it.
‘Unless I find the woman of my dreams, of course,’ Kevin said.
DoubleSpeak 