Today’s my food bank day but sadly I’ve had a reoccurrence of a back injury I originally suffered while playing football on the Muller Road playing fields back in 1982 and I can barely walk to the bathroom never mind work at the food bank. So sadly, no tales at least for this week about how our government, elected by us (well, not by me, but hopefully you get the drift), is presiding over record numbers of people in food poverty while at the same time Rishi Sunak is boasting about how he is deliberately taking money from the poor to give to the rich. What an awful human being he is.
I don’t know why there isn’t more public anger about poverty in general and food poverty in particular. I know that parts of the media push an agenda, on behalf of Sunak, which suggests that everyone on low pay or/and benefits is somehow living the life of Riley, washing down the caviar with crates of Dom Perignon, but in the vast majority of instances, poverty means poverty.
The surprise of volunteering at a food bank has been no so much the levels of poverty that exist in our country because we all know that, it’s how bad things are in what appear to be relatively small areas. The callers to our food bank live mainly, though not exclusively, in the local area yet when you drive through it there is little to suggest there is a serious problem with poverty. What you don’t see doesn’t exist. I guess slippery politicians like Sunak are happy for us to feel that way. Saves them from having to do anything about it.
Anyway, today I’m not well enough to do my very little bit to help my friends who are in food poverty and I’m sorry about that. My brilliant colleagues will cover my absence with ease, our service users will get a few quids’ worth of food and other provisions to see them through this crisis until the next one comes along and I’ll give my head a big wobble to remind myself I’m not as indispensable to the fight against food poverty as I thought I was.
