Earlier this winter, just before Christmas in fact, you could barely move for charity appeals. The Age UK winter appeal, to help older people living in poverty, various homeless charities and even the evil British Red Cross who, to be fair, are more likely to spend your donation on the vast salaries of their senior management teams and overseas trips and jollies. Setting aside my deep loathing of the British Red Cross, Christmas does bring out the best in us.
I noted that certainly locally there were various appeals that specifically focused on Christmas itself, including various toy and hamper collections, given that for many people the festive season itself is but a reminder of how tough life can be. Naturally, I support all these collections, financially if possible, but every year I think to myself, this is all very well organising to ensure that the celebration of the birth of the Baby Jesus can be enjoyed by as many people as possible, but what happens afterwards? And what happens when the lights and baubles are back in the loft, the dying tree has been carted off to that funeral home at the Council Recycling Centre and everything reverts to the old normal? The answer, sadly, is not very much.
At our food bank, in the mythical football town of Melchester, that not very much includes donations. In 2025, donations were falling anyway, not I suspect because people were especially mean, but because the cost of living crisis cuts deep and wide. We make a big effort around Christmas to build up our stocks so there is enough to go round for people who need an emergency food parcel. Demand for our services isn’t necessarily greater at Christmas, but people’s sense of love and care for those in need certainly is. I find it deeply moving when individuals and local companies go to the effort of helping to feed their fellow man, woman and child.
It is perfectly normal that thoughts of those struggling to get by slip to the back of our minds as the relentlessly dark days of winter rumble on. For many of us, it’s a matter of hanging on in there until the seasons change and bring about a brighter day. It certainly does to me. And until I started volunteering three-and-a-half years ago, it would not be unreasonable to suggest I didn’t care as much about food poverty than I do today. I am in no way holier than thou. But I have shaken off the idea that the world, whether it’s food poverty, homelessness or whatever, does not start and end at Christmas.
I’m a kind of meeter and greeter at our Food Bank, hopefully ensuring people feel comfortable and welcome while my colleagues put together an an emergency food parcel, the front line of food poverty, if you will. So when we are running short of items that would normally form part of a parcel, I see it first. And we are short of certain essential items, meaning, rather obviously, that our callers will be short of essential items when they leave us. I find it all a little upsetting.
But then, an essential component of volunteering is having sympathy and empathy for those we serve. Sure, we have to deal professionally with callers, even if we are not getting paid, because it’s not about us. I arrive at the Food Bank after dinner and go home to have tea. Many of the people we serve – our friends for as long as they are with us – arrive hungry, with added embarrassment, humiliation and distress. Genuinely, I feel their pain and while I don’t think about it 24/7, the feelings of unfairness never go away.
I have made a real effort not to get pissed off by the seasonal charity events, particularly at Christmas. It wasn’t always the case. I did have the feeling that it’s all very well doing a collection for Christmas, but what about the other 364 days of the year? I suppose you just assume we will take care of that? That was just plain stupid of me and I apologise for even thinking that way, feeling grumpy that people were making huge efforts in their own time to ensure their fellow humans enjoyed some kind of Christmas rather than no kind of Christmas at all. I share this feeling out of honesty, not that I needed to do so. It shows, more than anything, what a twat I can be when my brain slips out of gear.
Nonetheless, I do feel it’s important to point out that Food Banks pretty well everywhere are suffering from falls in donations. It’s partly down to the time of year, it’s partly down to the fact that people are struggling with the cost of living and it’s partly down to human nature, where we get on with our lives in order to concentrate on the here and now. I am no different.
I fervently hope that one day we will live in a kinder, gentler, equal and more compassionate country and that I will be out of a (voluntary) job. Of course, I love what I do and it’s an essential part of my life but I know what we are doing is attaching some sticky plaster to a gaping wound. More than that, I hope that people learn, like I have, that a crisis is not just for Christmas, it’s often for life and there is always more we can do.
Had they existed, perhaps my single parent mum would have used Food Banks at times when the money ran out, as it often did, whereupon she would go without food so that I didn’t have to. I didn’t realise just how poor we were until I was much older and I’m afraid I feel extremely guilty that while she put bread on the table there was only enough for me. Perhaps, too, we would have been beneficiaries of Christmas hampers, too, lifting us out of poverty, away from the dark, austere time of year it always was? In which case, the seasonal charity efforts matter, too, right?
If you would like to help, click on this link in order to see what your local Food Bank needs and be assured that even the smallest donation makes a real difference to someone’s life. Many people are a heart attack, a cancer diagnosis, an unexpected redundancy, a DWP benefit fuck up away from having to come to see us. They don’t deserve to be in food poverty and we can all do a little bit to help prevent it, whatever time of year it is.
