Just Say G’day 

20 September 2024

(Written in the style of Bridgerton)

Dearest Readers,

Today is one of those curious days, where the air is thick with contemplation and the heart is stirred by the past, present, and a future unknown. Three and a half years ago, a certain gentleman—perhaps familiar to some of you—stepped through the doors of a most uninspiring reception. It was, shall we say, lacking in the warmth that one might hope to see such a place. Yet, today, as he prepares to walk out of a far more contemporary and welcoming space for the final time, one cannot help but marvel at the transformation. And I speak not only of the reception area, mind you, but of the gentleman himself.

For you see, dear readers, in these three and a half years, one glaring truth has made itself known to him: the people whom St Bart’s supports are not some distant, alien figures. They are not to be pitied from afar, nor judged for their misfortune. Indeed, they are us. They could be you. They could be me. Life, as we well know, is a fickle thing—one misstep, one tragic event, and the ground beneath our feet shifts. Before we know it, we find ourselves seeking refuge in the shadows, be it in a car, a couch, or some precarious spot on the unforgiving streets.

Ah, respect. That elusive quality that one so often demands, yet so rarely offers. When we glance upon someone living rough, we see only their lowest point—unkempt, bedraggled, perhaps numbed by drink or drugs. We see, but we do not look. We do not recognise the fellow human being standing before us, worthy of our time, our compassion, our understanding. And yet, have we ever paused to consider what they see? To them, a suited figure might just as well be a detective, a lawyer, a doctor—someone who fits a certain stereotype, someone who holds power over them. How easy it is to judge through the lenses of learned perceptions, but how powerful it is to unlearn, to see one another as equals.

This morning, as our gentleman was preparing to depart, he was summoned to reception. One of St Bart’s residents—only two weeks into their stay—had but a simple request. To say ‘G’day,’ to shake his hand, and to wish him well for the future. A small act, perhaps, but in that moment, our gentleman felt something profound. For it is one thing to speak to someone as an equal, but to be treated as an equal by someone who has endured so much—now that, my dear readers, is a rare gift indeed.

You may recall, of course, the ‘Say G’Day’ campaign, born in 2021. A rather ingenious idea, if I may say so, aimed at breaking the cruel cycle of invisibility that haunts those on the streets. Too often, they are ignored, avoided, made to feel as though they do not exist. But one simple ‘G’day,’ one brief acknowledgment of their humanity, could be the very spark that sets them on the path to recovery. This year, the campaign culminates on the 4th of October—timed perfectly before Mental Health Week, and poignantly aligned with both World Homelessness Day and World Mental Health Day on the 10th. How fitting, don’t you think?

And so, our gentleman leaves St Bart’s today, not merely with fond memories, but with a heart full of gratitude. For it is here that he has witnessed the very best of humanity—genuine compassion, a steadfast commitment to the vision and mission of St Bart’s, and the unyielding belief that everyone deserves the chance to live their best life. It has been his privilege to be part of such a journey, and, I daresay, to become a better version of himself along the way.

Yours most sincerely (and ever observantly),

Lord Bartholmew.

If you would like to help St Bart’s, there are many things you can do, including donating here or you can volunteer your time here. Alternatively, you could like and share this with your friends and family.