IF you find yourself homeless after office hours in Glasgow you must travel to the Hamish Allan Centre.

 

I arrived at the imposing structure in Tradeston, near the River Clyde, with a shoulder bag and a sleeping bag shortly after 8pm.

I went up to the counter and asked the man behind the glass if this was the place to get accommodation for the night.

He said it was, asked my name and date of birth, and then told me to take a seat.

I looked over and there were three men sitting on the metal seats which were fixed to the hard rubber floor.

The room was dimly lit and the walls were bare apart from posters advertising services.

"Sit there if you want," said one of the men pointing to the only free seat.

He was painfully thin and almost fell off his seat twice as he appeared to drift off to sleep.

As he keeled over a cheap mobile phone fell from his hand and broke apart on the floor.

The noise woke him and he picked it up and put it back together, complaining that he'd been on the street and hadn't slept for two nights.

I could hear shouting from behind the interview room door in front of me where more staff were behind glass.

A woman inside gesticulated at them and demanded a place to stay.

"I'm not drunk," she screamed as a woman behind the glass looked at her and shook her head slowly.

I looked up and asked the men how long they had been waiting to be seen.

On the other side of the room a young man, who was in his late 20s, said: "I've been here for two hours and they won't give a bed so I'm not leaving here."

He told me he had been homeless for more than a decade and was regularly turned away from the Hamish Allan Centre.

Another man chimed in, telling me he had also been told there was nowhere in the city for him to sleep that night.

We looked up as the woman barged out of the room, still shouting at the startled staff inside.

All four people in the waiting room were smokers but only one had tobacco and cigarette papers.

He offered each of us a roll up in turn and all four of them went outside to smoke.

As they left, the green light beside the interview room door went on and I was told to go inside.

I sat down and a woman told me they had checked the records and found my address.

She asked why I wasn't living there anymore and I told her I had split up with my partner earlier that day.

I told her I had nowhere to go and someone at a homelessness charity had directed me there.

"I'll be honest with you, I've got no accommodation in Glasgow tonight," she said. "You'll have to go to the Twomax in the morning."

She went on to explain that I could make a formal homelessness application with the South Community Casework Service, which is based at the Twomax building in the Gorbals.

I explained again that I had nowhere to go until the next morning and asked if there was somewhere I could get a bed for the night.

"I've got nothing," she said. "All I can offer you is a bus token."

I persisted and she asked why my partner and I had split up.

I told her I had lost my job and she had thrown me out as a result.

"You could persuade your girlfriend to let you stay one more night," she said. "Then you can go to the Twomax in the morning."

I asked if I would get accommodation tomorrow night if I went there first thing in the morning.

"There are no guarantees," she said. "I'm sorry."

I told her I had a sleeping bag and asked her if I could stay in the waiting room overnight.

I explained that one of the men outside planned to do that.

Her mood immediately changed from apologetic to aggressive and told me I'd have to leave immediately.

"No-one is sleeping here tonight," she insisted. "If you don't leave the police will be called."

I picked up my bag and walked out of the interview room, which was now empty, apart from the young man who had told me he intended to sleep there.

As I walked past him he looked up and I shook my head.

"I told you they had nothing," he said.

I urged him to leave and warned him that they had threatened to call the police.

"Where are you going to go," he asked, as I opened the door.

I told him I was going to find somewhere to sleep.

"Good luck," he said, as I walked out into the cold April night.

Read: Homelessness caseworker: 'take council to court' to get a bed for the night

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