The Good Life

It’s beginning to look a lot like... but not for everybody

The Good Life

Published: Fri 12 Nov 2021, 2:05 PM

Well November is here and I think it’s fair to say it has hit everyone with a cold, red raw slap in the face. Armed with hats, scarves and gloves, students stream into college, breaking the misty air with each step, creating small clouds from their mouth with the effort. While I love summer, I do prefer this type of weather. You can always throw on an extra layer to brave the cold. There’s no stickiness from the sweltering heat, just cool refreshing air.

Embracing the new weather, myself and the girls decided to head into the city and take a walk around. We all wanted to hit our step count, the increasing list of assignments to be completed could wait for another day, we decided. The first stop on our walk was Starbucks (a very productive workout, as you can tell) vanilla lattes, hot chocolate, the works. The demand for iced coffees has eased. I waited eagerly for my order, if only to warm my hands than anything else.

“Excuse me, miss.”

A rugged voice distracted my train of thought. I turned to see who owned the voice. A woman was sitting at the table.

“Do you’ve a phone?”

A pointless question, my phone, bearing all its battle scars from several smacks to the floor, was in my hand.

“Can I use it?” she asked, motioning towards my phone. If I was in Cavan, there would be no problem. I’m fairly heedless when it comes to my phone. At work, I’m known for leaving it on the bar counter, to the delight of the customers who will lift it, take thousands, and I mean thousands, of photos, and subtly put it back in place. A seamless action, it would only be when I get home that I notice my camera roll is jammed. But that’s the Cavan countryside for you, having the craic, harmless stuff. The key difference between Cavan and this situation is that I know for definite my phone will be returning home with me.

“What do you need it for?” I questioned.

I thought it strange that she did not include this in our initial exchange.

“For a call” she replied, a note of irritation in her tone, probably at my reluctance.

“Sorry, I’ve no credit” I said, leaving her to stare at the back of my head.

I turned back to the girls, telling them to put away their phones in a hushed voice. They complied with no explanation necessary. As soon as we stepped out, confused expressions stared at me. I told them what happened, with each of them agreeing that they would not have handed over their phone. I did feel guilty for not helping the woman, and I hate how this city has made me doubt people’s intentions so much.

Forgetting about the whole incident, we walked down towards Brown Thomas. I wasn’t ready for what greeted me. Fairy lights glittered into the night. Christmas scenes dominated the windows – a couple out ice skating, carefully wrapped gifts, men in suits and women in fine gowns, all set for the festive season. Michael Bublé sprung to mind, Instagram story – ‘It’s Beginning to look a Lot Like Christmas’ (you’re as excited as I am if you sang that line), and post.

As we walked on, we came across a homeless man sitting on the side of the street. I stopped and stared at him, rude I know, but I couldn’t help myself. His face was wrinkled and weather beaten, wearing a sad and hopeless expression. I couldn’t see his eyes, they were firmly planted on the ground. I wondered what his name was, where he was from, how long he had been living on the streets and how he got into his current situation. I wondered if he was excited for his big television debut on RTE on Christmas day. Not that he would feature, but somebody would. A person, who probably doesn’t know the least bit about sleeping rough, would dominate our screens - telling us about all those who aren’t celebrating Christmas with their families. They will explain that the Government spent X amount on the homeless crisis this year, and that by year XYZ homelessness will be a thing of the past. The charitable work done will feature too, and although I use satire a lot, I don’t want this to be mistaken. The work that charities do is amazing, you literally can’t give them enough credit. But that’s the thing, it shouldn’t be up to charities to sort out this crisis.

Often times, homelessness is a seasonal story for the media. Another box ticked off in November and December. While browsing The Irish Times, I found an excellent article by RTE investigates journalist Kieran Dineen. I get a thrill when I find an article that interests me from start to finish, without reading it just for the sake of it. This is one of them articles. Look it up online!

Having completed reading it, I scrolled up to see when it was written. Almost positively thinking it was around the Christmas period. 3 Feb 2021 sat neatly under the subheading. My faith in the media has been restored.

* Gemma Good is from Killeshandra and a second year journalism student in University of Limerick.