I had nothing when I came here. Just my bag and two dresses I’d bought that day. It was the first place the housing department told me I could go to. It’s been a year now. I’ve got no view. I can’t look out. If I look through this window I just see him. He’s always there. I have to run 100 metres to the toilet. I don’t have a heater. It was 3 degrees in here this morning.
If I had transport I’d be in the country a bit. Here it hasn’t got a nice vibe to it. I’m in a position where I see no-one. I haven’t made friends because of all the things that have happened to me up to now – being ripped off and stolen from. I’ve done a lot of things. I don’t steal.
I’m isolated. I haven’t seen my youngest son, well actually he’s thirteen and I haven’t seen him since he was nine.
I’ve only been homeless in the last six years. Up until that time I was little rich girl. The day my mother died. That’s when it all went skew-whiff. I got set up. I was ill. I ended up with nothing and like I said I can’t steal. I had no other choice but to go working. So I ended up having to make my boys go and live with their father. They’d always been with me. Always. And I haven’t seen them since. I was a perfect mother. I really was.
We should look after our own. There’s so much that can be done. It seems to me women are out there doing it. I’m not. I’m in a fucking caravan which is like a cat food can. Fighting for my life.