Unbelievably a fellow worker and myself find ourselves with a couple of hours free from shift tasks. There is no contest when it comes to deciding whether to spend this time catching up on washing or taking a trip out in the hostel car.
Some of our residents find it difficult to get out and we think about those affected by advancing years and limited mobility. Being stuck indoors looking at the same four walls has a potentially depressing effect and in some quarters the post Christmas low has started creeping in.
My colleague fires up the engine and positions our car ready to load up. There is a tangle of walking frames and crutches which will need to come with us. Stiff old joints creak and groan as ageing limbs fold to fit in the available space.
Seat belts secured we load the CD player, up the volume and set off for our spin.
Although traffic is heavy we are blissfully unaffected – music rocking – the mood is elevated and content. One particularly observant passenger gives a running commentary triggered by road signs and shop fronts lining the route. His train of thought is convoluted and hard to follow – dementia clouding the possibility of conclusion. I feel glad he was given a place in the car. I can sense the life flowing back into his body, stimulation sparking his grey matter, he is hungry for the experience.
We turn from the main route and head towards a local beauty spot. The houses here are huge and eyes are popping with incredulity. For people who have been sleeping rough a large part of their life, equating their misfortune with the decadence of those more fortunate can be an uncomfortable experience.
We motor past a large and expensive private clinic which, on identification, triggers an aural flow of past detox and rehab memories. Although some tales are of failure, many are tinged with humour and personal achievement.
Suddenly the landscape opens up and we pass through a wrought iron edged gateway. Previously jaded eyes widen and take in the natural beauty. There is untempered excitement as we pass close to a herd of deer, a large stag proudly silhouetted against the winter sky.
One resident, Carl sighs gently,
“I wonder why I feel so peaceful when I look at deer? ” He questions.
There is no need for reply.
Later we stop for refreshements, hot coffee all round.
Sitting at our table I look at the faces surrounding me. Smiles are everywhere, tired worn wrinkles miraculously vanished, I realise depression is banished for now at least.
“It’s started to rain” someone says.
We don’t care, we have had our moment.
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Diary of a Hostel Worker 
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