“… not even the Virus.”

I met a homeless man on the way into the office yesterday. I know him to see and say hello to. Sadly, as we all know only too well, you can find any amount of poor souls like him wandering aimlessly around city streets these days, many in various stages of distress. And you can tell that some are relatively new to it all too ... not yet caked in dirt, or with that hollow, worn-out-look that only homelessness can give someone. This guy is a long time on the streets, it’s etched all over his face. And particularly the eyes.

Real lives. Real problems. And now add COVID-19 to the mix. It's sad, heart-breaking even.

I first encountered this particular fella about a year ago. It was a dark and wintry night in Dublin as I was making my way back to the car park at the top of Drury Street. I stopped to withdraw cash from an ATM about two streets over. I got my money and turned to leave. And there he was. Standing and staring. He had crept up on me like a leopard. Right into my space.

"I'm-gonna-take-all-that-effen-money-offa-ya-bud,” he said, before bursting into laughter. A sort of crazy laugh. He scared the heck out of me (and that’s putting it politely).

“Only messin, bud,” he said stepping back, “but would ya have a few youro for a hostel. It’s effen freezing tonight.”

Since then I’ve seen him around town a fair bit. He’s not as mad, or as dangerous, as he first appeared. But he definitely does like toying with people in suits, because I only ever see him acting weird around us types. Often, he can be seen chatting away normally with others. Seems to reserve his wackiness for suits. He's entitled to some entertainment I suppose.

One time when we were making small talk, I asked him what his name was. “Donald … Donald effen Trump,” he replied, before breaking into another mad laugh. That’s his line and I respect it. Now, whenever I see him, we have a bit of chit-chat and I give him whatever I have in my pocket. Typical suit thing to do, I suppose. No wonder he goes after us. But he always says ‘Thanks, Bud,” before sauntering off. There’s a gentleness in him.

Yesterday the streets were literally deserted. It was eerie. Just a few people passing up and down on their way to work or to the few shops that were open. As I headed down Stephens Street I saw him across the road in a doorway and walked over to him.

“Hey Donald,” I said, and he looked blankly at me as if I had two heads.

I gave him what I had and we started talking. Shortly after, a woman caught his eye and he turned away from me mid-sentence. It was then that I witnessed an exchange you’d only ever see in Dublin.

He approached her – and I noticed how he made sure not to get too close. Then in the calmest tone of voice asked:

"Missus, would you have a few pence 'cos I’ve got nothing … not even the V-I-R-U-S.”

The woman at first seemed a bit taken aback by any mention of COVID-19.

“Ah, sorry, missus, I shouldn’t be messin around about stuff like that. Sorry. I’m grand. Nuttin to worry about.”

But she was city-born herself I’d say and quickly rebounded.

“Ah, jaysus, you must have it alright. Sure, it’s rotted your brain, ya effen eegit,” she said before stepping towards him and offering a few coins, one at a time, into his outstretched hand.

“Are ya eatin’?”

“I am.”

“Have ya a bed?”

“I do.”

“Ah sure you’ve loads… and ya can’t get a drink and anyways because of all this Corona.”

The pair of them laughed. Then she patted him on the elbow and headed off, still mumbling away to herself.

“Mind yerself, missus,” he called after her.

“I will. And make sure ta eat,” she said without turning.

“I will.”

Only in Dublin.

“Thanks, bud.” And he too was gone.

I don’t really know why I’m writing about the incident, but it has stayed with me. For sure, life is tough for all of us at present, bizarre even. Still, we should be thankful for what we have. It may not be as much as we would like, but it's a hell of a lot more than many. That incident yesterday reminded me that it must be an incredibly hard, and even more isolating, time for the homeless. Empty streets mean empty pockets.

Whatever happens, most of us will be ok. There are brighter days ahead. And whilst we may be forced to keep our distance for now, we can always reach out in some small way.

Just like that kind-hearted woman did.