EXCUSE ME SIR...

‘Excuse me sir,’ he said stepping towards me by the Full Moon on Stokes Croft. ‘I’ve been walking around trying to get money for a hot drink. Can you help me?’
I gave him a pound coin, ‘how’s that?’
‘Thank you,’ he said, ‘thank you.’
We walked on further into town, commented on the new information board near the top of the steps down to the subway and suggested what we thought a more suitable position.
‘That was the same man from last night outside the chip shop,’ I said. ‘He’s very polite.’
He was softly spoken, used crutches, had a foot bandaged like you see around here, a beard and when he spoke he looked down, ashamed, embarrassed, I don’t know, I wouldn’t ask.
Last night after we’d bought chips for tea he’d asked for thirty pence so he could buy some chips. I gave him fifty and as we crossed the road on our way home via Ninetree Hill I looked back and saw him walk up the steps into Rita’s.