Cold feat

IT'S MIDNIGHT, and the temperature is three degrees and falling fast.

But instead of cuddling up next to my wife under our warm duvet, I'm preparing to lie down alone in a car park next to a Vauxhall Corsa.

Tonight, I've swapped my monogrammed pyjamas for a woolly hat, two T-shirts, two jumpers, a coat, jeans, gloves, socks (three pairs) and shoes, and I'm sleeping under two duvets and a sleeping bag.

And I don't much like the look of my bed a pair of wooden pallets with a mattress made of cardboard boxes and a couple of exercise mats. But despite the way the night is shaping up, I know I'm lucky.

Most homeless people would give their eye teeth for a set-up like this, with pallets to keep out the wet, a cardboard box to keep my head warm, and more than enough covers to keep the rest of me snug.

The car park I'm sleeping in is patrolled and safe and, unlike most rough-sleepers, I can close my eyes free from the fear that someone might attack me at any moment.

But above all, I'm lucky because I'm only homeless for tonight.

Like the 71 other people dossing down under the stars at Immanuel Church in Upham Road, I'm here to show that I'm concerned about homelessness in Swindon.

I'd also like to help raise enough money to ensure the town's Culvery Court hostel stays open next year.

But whatever happens, I know that tomorrow I can go home and have a bath, lie in my own bed and go on with my comfortable life.

Threshold Housing Link, which runs the 20-bed Culvery Court and other projects for homeless people in Swindon, is on target to raise a record £14,000 from tonight's sponsored sleep-out.

Cher Sawyer, Threshold's resettlement and development manager, was originally hoping to raise £10,000.

But, counting up the pledges made on our sponsor forms, she has already reached £5,000 with a big bundle of forms still to go.

"It looks like it's going to be a good night," says Cher.

Outside, it's also a decent night for sleeping rough. Although the temperature is still going down, it's clear overhead, and we aren't going to have to put up with the dreaded rain.

My neighbours tonight, Janet Woolger, 46, and her sister Tracy Carman, 37, have prepared for any eventuality, having done the annual sleep out twice already.

Janet and Tracy have rigged up a virtual house between their two cars, complete with a raised floor of storage boxes, cardboard mattresses and a polythene roof.

They have even fitted cardboard skirting underneath their cars to keep out draughts, and have brought torches for reading but they are quick to admit this is not what sleeping rough is really like.

"We are just doing it for one night, but homeless people have to do it every night," says Tracy. "It's easy for us, but you can help lots of people by doing it."

Janet and Tracy are raising about £650, while across the car park, Craig Tranfield, 45, from Middleleaze, and Stephen Ker-shaw, 42, from Stratton St Mar-garet, have raised more than £1,000 between them.

Both are members of Shaw's Holy Trinity Church, and say that, for them, sleeping out is both a symbolic and practical act.

"It's an expression of your concern for your fellow man, whether they are Christians or not," says Craig.

Stephen adds: "Words are cheap, but at least you can say you did something, and brought some money in."

Swindon College youth worker Dani Colucci, 25, from Ferndale Road, also found that the sleep-out focused her mind on homelessness at Christmas, saying she could afford to put up with the cold for one night.

"That's the whole point," she says. "People have to do this every night, and that's what we are here to think about."

Others say they find the sleep-out experience unreal, because none of us could have a real idea of what living as a homeless person day after day is like.

But I found it focused my mind on what my life might be like if my marriage split up, or I lost my job and found myself on the streets.

I was warm enough in my multi-layered state, although the temperature dropped sharply at 3am and I woke up very cold at five, with a coating of frost on the cars next to me and on the cardboard box above my head.

In all I slept for about five hours, but found it difficult to drop off at first, with images of my sleeping wife and daughter running through my head.

And, despite the feeling of perverse achievement at having got through the night, the main thing that struck me about sleeping rough was this: I wouldn't want to do it more than once a year.