1 Mar 2010 - Housing Chief Mark Wright's account of sleeping rough in Bristol
On a relatively unusual day in my life I'm going to be sleeping rough for charity, to raise the profile of homelessness in the city. After the usual day's work, at 9.30pm I head on down to a churchyard in the city centre. The weather is clear and cold, and I glance at the forecast, which isn't good: heavy rain at 3am. I'm a bit nervous.
I arrive at 10.30pm, and people are milling around, setting down bedding places. I only know three people at the event, but fortunately one of them rings me at exactly that moment to find me. I feel happier and set up my bed next to his in a sheltered spot by a wall.
I've been told to wear many layers of clothes, and I've got a sleeping bag, a big plastic bag to go around it, and a strip of foam to sleep on. I decided that a pillow was a bit of a luxury, so I just brought an old teddy bear called 'Bear' to rest my head on.
With all my layers I'm not cold, and I feel fairly confident. At the last minute I spot that my site is sited in a dip in the flagstones so I move along. At 11.45pm I climb into the sleeping bag to sleep. With all the streetlights around it is quite bright, so I pull my hat down over my eyes as a mask. But I quickly discover that the noise in the city centre is overpowering - there is a constant sound of traffic and sirens.
At 1.30am the rain arrives. It's pretty heavy, and it makes a huge noise on everyone's plastic sheets. The stone floor is taking its toll - my arms and legs are getting a bit sore. I'm a bit despondent but I finally drift off to sleep at about 2am.
At 3am I'm woken by more heavy rain. I also realise that although Bear is a great bear, he's not a good pillow, and I'm getting a sore face and neck. Then: horror! I notice that one of my legs is cold and damp. I rummage around the sleeping bag and find that part of it is wet. There must be a hole in the plastic bag. I'm starting to get cold, and realising that water will further sap my warmth I'm worried now about the leak, but drift off again after half an hour.
4.30am and I'm woken by the sound of a driver maxing the revs on his motorbike and roaring past. It's still raining. I feel my legs and am pleased to find only general dampness, so the leak must be minor. Although I ache and feel stiff and a bit cold, I realise that there's only 90 minutes left. I feel a bit better and drift off again.
At 5.30am I'm woken by voices, as people start getting up. I get up and see my original spot, which is now a puddle an inch deep. People start to leave, so I grab my wet plastic bag and say my goodbyes.
My lift arrives and I head home to my wife and warm dry bed. I've never been happier to have both of those, and this is the bit where my one-night experience departs utterly from that of the homeless. On the way home to bed I start to think on what extra we can do to help the homeless. Nobody should have to sleep rough in the modern world.