We pass dozens of them huddled in doorways of closed shops along the cold city streets on our way to the pub.
There appear to be more of them each year.
“Happy New Year” some of them say in zombie tones in a pathetic effort to get a coin or two.
We give nothing.
I seem to be the only one who sees the irony in this greeting from those without hope.
Yet after a few pints they will be out of sight out of mind and I too shall drink the night away unhaunted by the poor souls outside.
There appear to be more of them each year.
“Happy New Year” some of them say in zombie tones in a pathetic effort to get a coin or two.
We give nothing.
I seem to be the only one who sees the irony in this greeting from those without hope.
Yet after a few pints they will be out of sight out of mind and I too shall drink the night away unhaunted by the poor souls outside.
