Three months ago I was asked to take part in a "homeless challenge" for west Kent charity The Bridge Trust.

By spending seven nights sleeping rough I would discover what it's really like to have a home one day and not the next.

At an interview I admitted feeling little sympathy for the homeless. I saw it as self-inflicted and I had never given a homeless person money or food. I didn't understand why they couldn't just go and get a job.

I had no idea what to expect or what I would gain from the experience. Of course my friends and family thought I had lost the plot.

But three others signed up to the challenge: Vicky, a solicitor; Bruce, a local author and Morten, a youth worker.

We were stripped of our mobile phones, house keys and money and given £59.16 - one week's state benefit.

With only the bags on our backs, containing sleeping bags and minimum clothing, we set off to explore the streets.

The rules: No contact with friends or family, stay in west Kent, pair up at night and keep a daily diary of events and feelings...

Day One: Monday 22 September, 2008.

2.30pm (Tonbridge park)

It is a strange feeling, having nothing to do. I have only been homeless for three hours and already I am bored. I'm so used to rushing from place to place and never having time to do what I have to do, never mind what I want to do. Strangely, I have always liked it that way. A day with no plans always seemed like a waste of time. But now, sitting in a park in Tonbridge wondering what to do next, I can't help but worry about little jobs that need doing - did I forget to leave a note for my boss? Reply to an email from that contact? Despite knowing there is absolutely nothing I can do about these insignificances, I can't seem to let go of "normal life". Even reading the paper (Focus, I picked it up free in the library) I keep thinking about the things I will do when this week is over: "Must go and see that movie," and so on.

But if I was really homeless this would be my life, sitting in a park wondering what to do next. I'm trying to relax and experience the freedom of life without an aim, but my mind is bombarding me with an army of thoughts. I have a new liberty, new silence. All around me there are children shouting, girls chatting, boys kicking a ball at an innocent squirrel, and a lawn mower rumbling in the distance. Yet the silence is deafening. Because I don't have a phone to answer, no text messages to reply to, nowhere to be at a particular time. I thought I would enjoy it, but I just feel awkward.

Day Two: Tuesday 23 September, 2008.

8.30am (bench)

I tried to write last night but using a torch outdoors attracted all sorts of insects and when a daddy-long-legs danced across my page I gave up.

Yesterday I walked in circles. I walked up and down Tonbridge High Street. I walked around the park. I walked up to the castle then down the High Street again. I got a map from the Tourist Information Centre, but as I had nowhere to go it wasn't much use. It rained pretty heavy so I spent few hours reading in the library. Eating is a problem. Sitting in the park eating a sandwich (the last supper, provided by The Bridge Trust) appears perfectly normal when it is a nice day. But when it's raining and everyone else is rushing to get indoors, you do look rather odd. I felt everyone was questioning who I was, what I was doing. Maybe I'm just paranoid! The park isn't such a safe place to be once teatime passes. I was approached by two young men with bottles of beer: "Alright darlin'! Where's your other 'af?"

"Around the corner," I said, hoisting my bag onto my back and quickly walking away, although trying to appear unconcerned.

This would not normally faze me. But suddenly I felt vulnerable, as I was not just alone, but completely and utterly alone - I had no speed dial to the phones of friends and family, no home to go to, and I don't know Tonbridge well at all.

I discovered public toilets close at 6pm! So early. Better get used to al fresco!

I spent about 10 minutes in Somerfield looking for bargains for my first spend, all the time wondering what the staff there thought I was doing. I bought bread rolls and butter (these would last a few days) then found a chip shop. Made my way to a sheltered bench, dodging commuters rushing from the train station, bumped into Morten and we sat down to enjoy a chip butty. Vicky and Bruce soon appeared as we had arranged to meet at 7pm and we walked to Haysden Country Park. We found a spot to sleep under some trees, where we were not too visible and reasonably dry. But we were on a hill so the sleeping bag and bin bag combination did not work (designed to keep me warm and dry) as I kept sliding down the hill during the night! It was cold. Cold all over, so I had to get up in the middle of the night to put on more layers. I think I was wearing every piece of clothing I had brought with me: t-shirt, long-sleeved top, fleece, hoodie, waterproof jacket, two pairs of trousers, three pairs of socks, scarf and hat. My body was warmer, but my face was still exposed. My hat kept coming off as I was tossing and turning all night. My hips were digging into the hard ground. It started raining during the night so I had to lie against my bag to stop me rolling down the hill and off my bin bag - a vital layer to stop the cold and wet from the grass penetrating my sleeping bag. I felt I hadn't slept a wink, but when I woke up at 7am I realised I must have slept a few hours. I went to a toilet block to get washed and change my clothes, but there was a groundsman waiting to get in to clean up and the toilets all have those metal all-in-one sinks, where the soap, water and air all come out of one hole. Impossible to get washed at.

So now I'm sitting on the sheltered bench, once again. Morten is reading, Vicky has gone swimming and Bruce is off to Tunbridge Wells. I bought some cheese from Lidl as I still have three rolls left. I'm happy to sit here watching the world go by before heading to the Wells. I am amused watching people on their way to work or school. They all feel they must be doing something as they walk - listening to music or playing with their mobile phones. I guess I usually do the same.

4pm (library)

Morten and I walked from Tonbridge to Tunbridge Wells today. I think it took us an hour and a half. It's funny how different things look when you have time to notice, when you are walking aimlessly instead of searching for a parking space. We walked the entire length of the A26 through Southborough and even though this is my patch, I saw so many little things I had never seen before. Simple things, like a nice house or a bench with someone's name on it. We went to the Crisis Recovery Centre at the United Reformed Church on Mount Ephriam for a free lunch. We must have looked so awkward at the door when they asked us why we were there. We muttered something about sleeping rough and signed our names on a register they kept to count homeless people. But Vicky had already been and had given the game away. A friendly lady gave me a fresh towel and led me to the shower room - a welcome surprise! She made me a ham sandwich and a coffee then a lovely man called Alan sat me down to tell me all about the church's work. By chance, or God's work according to Alan, the trustees were meeting at that time so they all sat down and told me about the history of Crisis Recovery and their views on the homeless problem. The centre opens every Monday and Tuesday to help homeless people with drug or alcohol addictions. They had boxes of tinned food, bin bags full of donated clothes, sleeping bags, and they gave us a tent! They offer Christian help and their warmth was very comforting. They are open about their Christian views and purpose, which I guess would make a lot of people uncomfortable, but it doesn't make what they are doing any less admirable. They give up their time to cook for and talk to people with drink or drug dependency, going out of their way to help those normally branded tramps or wasters. They really are amazing.

I have just read the Big Issue for the first time, in the library. They have a very interesting story which says according to Government figures there are only 483 people sleeping rough in England. The local authorities, directed by central Government, go out into city centres on a single night and count the number of homeless people they find. They use a strict definition of "bedded down" - excluding those wandering around, asleep but without bedding, and those with bedding but who are up and awake. This is a joke. Why even bother doing the counts? It seems a total farce.

Day three: Wednesday 24 September, 2008.

11am (park)

After the Crisis Recovery Centre yesterday we walked into town where I bought a book from a charity shop (a pricey £1.95) then went to the library when it started to rain. I wanted to check out the Soup Bowl on Crescent Road, so I dragged Vicki along with me. I was so glad I hadn't gone alone as it consisted of one tiny room filled with the stereotypical homeless person - white, male, over 40. They looked bemused when we entered the room. Two very well-spoken and smiley ladies said hello from behind a hatch and we asked for a hot drink. They said: "Are you travelling through Tunbridge Wells?" to which I stuttered and hesitated about what to say next but Vicki stated "Well, we're homeless". Their faces were a picture of total shock and sympathy and I think we both instantly felt awful about lying. They gave us some tea and a hot toasted sandwiches then forced us to take some chocolate cake away with us. I felt like I was in someone's living room. The walls had been freshly painted and old books sat gathering dust on a fireplace. I chatted to one of the men there who told us to stay away from the town late at night. He said if I went to the council they would help me get a house because I'm a young female, so I asked if they had refused him help – he said the council had "finally" given him a flat in Sherwood, but he still had no money or furniture! These guys all had clean clothes on, perhaps they had been to the Crisis Recovery Centre that day.

But why were people who had a house still allowed to come here to get free food? This guy had a roof over his head, clean clothes and I would expect full state benefits, but was still helping himself to the free food provided by the kind church goers at St Augustine's Church, who run the Soup Bowl. It doesn't seem right, for if I was really homeless I probably would not return here because I felt so out of place.

There seem to be degrees of homelessness. Those with drug or alcohol addiction seem to naturally be the worst off and are more likely to be the ones falling asleep in shop doorways in the town centre. But then there are people I've seen, like a guy who goes about on his bike in Tonbridge, who has camping equipment and simply lives outdoors. I wouldn't have guessed he was homeless from his appearance. At the Soup Bowl they all seemed to know each other and they joked around with the volunteers like old friends. The relationship between the homeless men and the volunteers did not come across as one-way give and take process. I tried to chat to a younger guy with a dog, but he didn't want to talk.

After the Soup Bowl I met Jon for my first video-diary. We met in Calverley Park and I think I was spotted by some of the men from the Soup Bowl, so my cover has probably been blown. It was around 6.30pm so Vicki and I headed to Dunorlan Park to find a spot to pitch our newly acquired tent before it got dark, but the gates were locked and we didn't want to get arrested for trespassing! So we carried on down Forest Road and went to Hawkenbury Recreation Ground. We found a spot in a dip where there are some trees, so the neighbours and sports teams could not see us. Footballers were still using the pitches so I was able to read using the floodlights.

It was a bit warmer with the tent and I felt safer. We slept right through to 8am. But it didn't stop the problem of my hips digging into the ground, they're still quite sore today. When we got up this morning it was like the heavens had opened overnight. I sprinted to the toilet block and back and within seconds I was soaked to the skin. My trainers were wet right through. My whole body was freezing until I could change my clothes and I had to wear plastic bags on my feet to stop the wet getting through my socks.

We went to the Salvation Army for lunch today – they have a home cooked lunch which costs only £2.50 for elderly people but they give it to homeless people for free. Chicken pie and roast potatoes – delicious! I spoke to the Captain, Michael Lloyd, who basically shared the view of Alan at the Crisis Recovery Centre. I chatted to the elderly people over lunch. Gary, "the major" used to be in the RAF. He told me he was once homeless after he and his wife divorced and he lived on the streets for a while, but the Salvation Army helped him out. At that time they had a shelter on Powdermill Lane in High Brooms. They encouraged him to get back into work and back on his feet. Today he was collecting money, handing out cups of tea and giving lifts to old ladies. They told us to go back for lunch again tomorrow.

I went to the Tourist Information Centre and got some information about camping. There is only one campsite within walking distance and it costs £7 a night, per person. Far too expensive on our budget! But if we had a campsite we could leave our bags in the tent which would be great. It's annoying carrying everything with me all the time, not only because my back is sore from the weight but I feel people notice me more, that I stand out because I have to turn sideways to get through most doorways! And after a few days I'm sure someone will have seen me about town more than once, dressed in the same clothes.

After the TIC I went to the council and asked to speak to a housing officer. I felt quite nervous, as I was pretending to be really homeless to see what would happen. I had to fill in two forms, both more or less asked all the same questions but one was longer than the other. I sat for a while in the waiting room where a man sat opposite me, also waiting. I overheard his conversation with the girl at reception, he was in a rush to pick up his kid from school. He must have heard mine too as he asked me if I was homeless. I sighed and said "Yeah, are you?"

He said he had been living in a caravan for some time, but he had to get out for some reason and was now sleeping in his car. He had only signed on the register the previous day, so I asked about his kid and he said they lived with their mum. I asked him had he found it hard to get a job when he had no address but he said he hadn't worked in a while.

At first I felt sorry for him, as I have a friend who has been through the same - living in a caravan and taking care of his daughter when he could. However my friend juggled two or sometimes three jobs to give his child the best life he could until he got back on his feet. He now has his own business. But this guy yesterday seemed perfectly fit and able yet he was not working. Had he any intention of working? Did he have a hidden problem that meant he couldn't work? I suddenly felt stupid for having felt sympathy for him, because now I felt it was his own doing he was in that state because he was lazy. And I felt sorry for his child.

A pleasant lady called me into a room and said she had read my forms but they "didn't tell her much" So she went through them all again as if I had filled them in wrong. I hadn't. It was simply that once I wrote "no fixed abode" I had nothing more to add, because every other question on the form was related to my house and family. She was friendly, but she talked down to me. She asked if I had identification and I said "No, how can I get some?" to which she replied "Let's just go back to the start again." Erm, Why? She went right through my forms all over again! I had to remind myself I was doing this as an experiment or I would not have had the patience to remain seated.

After the fourth time answering the same questions she wrote down my answers on a separate page. Then she copied the same answers onto a blue form and talked me through it. Is this bureaucracy gone mad, or just a jobsworth? I'm not surprised people wait so long to get a council house.

My story was that I was made redundant from my job at the Courier and couldn't pay my rent. My landlord was about to evict me so I left to avoid going into arrears.

She said I was "intentionally homeless" because I had left my flat before being evicted. Because I have only lived in Tunbridge Wells for five months and three weeks, and not six months, this meant I did not have a local connection and so the council were not obliged to help me. She asked me had I any mental health problems, had I ever been in care, what type of school did I go to, did I have a any children or was I pregnant. Then the crescendo - she said she needed proof I was homeless. What did she want me to do? Take her to see my non-existent house?

Being over 18 and without child or mental health issues meant I was classed as "non-priority". She said I "seemed pretty articulate" so I could basically look after myself.

However, after what felt like hours of interrogation, she was very helpful. She told me to register on jobseekers allowance and claim my benefits, to register on the council's homeless persons register, to get myself some ID, then I could claim a loan from the council to pay for private rented accommodation.

She gave me a leaflet with contact details of various hostels - Bridge Trust, Colebrook Road, YMCA, and I realised one of the main problems with being homeless is that each agency advises you to go to another. This woman was unaware that all these places were filled to capacity and have stopped taking names because the waiting lists are so long. I think what is needed is a homelessness coordinator, someone to oversee the work of all these agencies.

At that point I came clean. I told her I was doing a homeless challenge for the Bridge Trust and for the Courier. She was a bit defensive at first, understandably, but she chatted to me about the council's role, about how they follow strict guidelines set by central government.

I then legged it to Calverley Grounds as I was late meeting Wendy for the video-diary. When I got there Morten told me he was packing it in. Apparently he was feeling quite vulnerable last night then he had an incident at the Salvation Army this morning. He was confronted by a guy who is well-known in Tunbridge Wells for being a trouble-maker. He asked Morten for a cigarette and more or less threatened him. Perhaps Morten felt more vulnerable than the rest of us because he doesn't know the area. He said nothing could have prepared him for what this week would really be like. I don't really know what he meant.

Vicki is panicking a bit about where we are going to sleep tonight. She doesn't want to go back to Hawkenbury in case the residents complain.

Day four: Thursday 25 September 2008.

10.15am (Calverley Grounds)

Today I'm drifting. I realised that I am yet to feel truly bored and isolated because I've been busy interviewing people for my story. I need to feel whatever Morten felt that made him drop out. I feel constrained by all these meeting times. At 10am we have to turn our emergency phones on to receive a call from Wendy. She tells us to meet her somewhere a few hours later for the Bridge Trust video diary. Then I meet Jon for the courier video-diary. Then Vicki and I have to meet to find a place to sleep before it gets dark and turn our phones on again at 8pm to let John know where we are sleeping. All these restrictions and meeting points give us a purpose and time to socialise, so we are not really experiencing what it is like to be homeless.

It's also difficult to speak to homeless people. The only ones safe to talk to (not on drink or drugs) have the sense to stay away from the town centre, from the soup kitchens etc. because like us, they sense trouble. Those I have spoken to are more willing to give advice than tell me their story.

I'm sitting on a memorial bench in Calverley Grounds. It is one of those mornings that is blindingly sunny, but the air is cold and crisp. Fresh. There isn't a soul around. Just a few butterflies and the smell of lavender bushes, the hum of traffic in the far distance, If it was like this everyday perhaps I could be homeless. But I don't know how much longer I could keep wearing bags on my feet.

I love this freedom, the time to think, the lack of little errands that need doing, people to meet, emails and phonecalls to reply to. I think I'm quite a sociable person, but I have always craved time to myself, away from other people. I feel frustrated that the four of us keep being pulled together so frequently. We keep bumping into each other at the library when it rains, or at the "free food outlets" when they open. Then Vicki and I have to stay together at night for insurance purposes. Bruce has gone off to Groombridge on his own since Morten pulled out yesterday. I wish I could do the same. Find a spot in the countryside where no one can disturb me.

I still feel very upbeat, but that's because I know this is ending on Monday and my normal life will resume. If this was real life I'm sure it would be very different.

Vicki and Bruce have both said they feel the "free food outlets" perpetuate the problem. That if you only have £60 a week why would you spend it on food when you can get it for free? Are addicts then left with the funds to fuel their addiction? I don't agree. I think if you have an addiction you will spend all your money on it no matter what. The addiction becomes your food and water, it means survival. I think the people working in churches and soup kitchens are simply keeping these people alive. They give them a place to meet others and give them a focus to their day.

5.20pm (The Grove park)

I have so many thoughts circling my head I have no idea how to organise them. I guess that's what happens when you have this much time on your hands!

Went back to the Salvation Army for lunch today, where I had an amazing hot shower. I also aired my clothes for an hour as they were still wet from yesterday. I couldn't believe how new and clean the shower room was, like a four or five star hotel. I spent an hour again chatting and laughing with the elderly lunch club, listening to their stories of love and war. I realised I missed church - the warmth of community and family life, looking out for one another. I have always had a preconception of the Salvation Army as being like Harold from Neighbours, but they are just welcoming, kind people. I think I'll go back there after the challenge.

Today I met a young guy who is currently in Bridge Trust accommodation. He told me his parents separated and he developed a drug addiction and became homeless. He was on the streets for six months, over winter, sleeping mostly in train stations. He had a room in the YMCA but was kicked out because of his behaviour due to the drugs he was taking. He has a disability and was still refused housing by the council, I'm not surprised after my experience there yesterday. But he is now studying a media degree, and is practically a professional swimmer! Before he became homeless he was training to compete in the Beijing Paralympics, and believes he can get back on track now and get ready for London 2012. What a story. He was fascinating to talk to. I couldn't believe what he had been through. He said he wanted to write a book about his life, even though he is only 19.

I spent this afternoon aimlessly wandering around town. My clothes are starting to smell less than fresh so I bought some body spray out of my budget. I even put on some makeup from the testers in Superdrug, hoping the staff wouldn't notice me. I stopped at a jewellery shop on the High Street to admire the diamonds sparkling in the window. I was there about 20 seconds when a man came out of the shop and stood beside me. I kept my head down but from the corner of my eye I could tell he was not looking in the window. He must have worked there and thought I looked dodgy!

8pm (tent)

I sat in The Grove for a few hours earlier today, reading, writing, watching squirrels gather acorns. Met Jon for the video diary then met Vicki at dusk. We went to a chipshop and sat in the park eating before heading to the tent. Last night it had turned dark very early and we didn't want to return to Hawkenbury. So we squatted in a garden! The house, near Calverley, was empty, and had a planning notice at the entrance, so we sneaked to the back garden behind some trees and pitched out tent. No one around at all so we left our tent there all day and it was still there when we got back today. Think it might be safe enough to leave my bag there tomorrow.

Day five: Friday 26 September 2008.

11.05am (Calverley Grounds)

I didn't sleep too well last night. I was cold and had a sore bum and hips again from the hard ground. When I woke up I had to jump up and pack my bag as quickly as possible then run to the car park on Monson Road to use the toilet.

After a few days of not really eating properly and telling myself I can simply eat less, my appetite is now insatiable. I think my body is making up for lost calories. But today I realised I still had about £40 left to last me the weekend. So I treated myself to a full English breakfast in a cheap café by the station. It was £3, a bargain! Now my gut is full, it feels warm! I wish I had worn a pedometer this week, I must have walked miles.

I think Vicki is going to pull out today. She says the week has run it's course, that nothing more can be learnt. I think she expected to spend a few nights in a hostel and a few nights in a barn on a fruit farm instead of out in the cold! I'm angry because I might be forced to quit the challenge, John won't allow me to stay on my own. I'm not going to Groombridge with Bruce, I don't know the area at all. When I signed up to this challenge I always expected the last few days to be the hardest, so I do not want to bail out now. People have sponsored me to last the full seven days and I'm determined to do it. Without Vicki here I can experience the worst part of being homeless - being totally alone. I don't know what will happen. Meeting John and Wendy at noon.

3.35pm (Southborough Common)

I finally feel free. Vicki left, and I convinced John I could stay where the tent was pitched, that it was safe, so now I'm free! I really wanted to be on my own, even having to talk to everyone earlier just made me angry. I don't know why, but I felt the need to either punch a wall or cry, so I cried. I felt like an idiot, but now I feel better.

I'm now sitting on Southborough Common which would be amazingly peaceful if it weren't for the dozens of cars stuck queuing behind the roadworks. I collapsed here after walking in the blistering heat, it is far too hot to do anything. I can feel the sun burning my face. I've never been good with the heat. It's also making me feel dirty. My clothes stink now. I desperately need a shower and I haven't been able to brush my teeth since yesterday morning - yuk. They feel so grimy. I bought an apple to make them feel cleaner. It's disgusting, I usually brush my teeth about three times a day, I even keep a toothbrush in my drawer in work.

I've been thinking about what I would be doing if I was in work. Right now, Friday afternoon, I would be rushing about trying to get things wrapped up so I can enjoy the weekend without worrying about Monday. Then I rush home, make a quick dinner, jump in the shower and get ready to go out. I wonder what everyone is doing tonight.

7pm (tent)

I waited until it got a bit colder then walked back to Tunbridge Wells. Went to Tesco and bought some food. People were making their way home from work and I really felt they were staring at me. I look run down now so I kept my head down in case I bumped into anyone I knew! I don't think I would be brave enough to do this in Belfast, I wouldn't be able to remain anonymous the way I can here. Let's face it, most people I know here are from work, so they all know about the challenge.

I don't know if I'm just paranoid or if I really look homeless now, but as I walked through town to get back to the tent a man approached me and said he had noticed me around with my bags. He had recognised me as being homeless! He asked me for advice on where to sleep, then he told me why he was homeless. He said he had come here from Eastbourne and saw a man attacking a woman so stepped in, then got arrested for assaulting the man and spent a week in prison, but now had no money to stay anywhere or get home. I didn't believe him for a variety of reasons, but mostly because he was very jittery and had a white line around his mouth, like he had taken ecstasy. He didn't smell of drink and was quite well dressed and well spoken, but alarm bells were ringing in the back of my head, so I quickly told him a few places he could try, then set off. I had been warned to beware of being followed, so I kept looking over my shoulder. He had stopped another woman so I briskly walked back to my tent. It's the first night on my own and even though it's really early I keep hearing rustling noises and thinking someone is approaching my tent. In the last 40 minutes it has gone from daylight to complete darkness. I'm sure it is just birds and squirrels but I can't relax. I don't know what I'm more afraid of, a stranger or that man finding me, or the owner of the house I'm squatting in!

Day six: Saturday 27 September 2008.

I'm totally fed up. I woke up at 7am this morning, I was freezing all night. I don't understand how the temperature can drop so much at night when it is so hot during the day. I've obviously just never noticed it before. Even this morning it was foggy and cold. I walked to St John's Sports Centre and went for a swim before the pool became swamped with kids. It cost £3.80 so I tried to stay as long as possible then had a good scrub in the shower. Brushed my teeth, twice then was overjoyed to discover they had free hairdryers. I felt clean, but then had to get into my dirty clothes again. It does seem pretty pointless. I went into Boots today and "tested" some make-up (I wonder how long I could do this for and how many shops I could "sample" before they started escorting me off the premises). My phone kept dying so I went to a mobile phone shop and asked if they could charge it. They seemed friendly enough and said yes, but when I came back to collect it an hour later they said it didn't fit their charger. I bought a sketchpad and cheap paints for something to do. Thank God it's sunny - I left my wet swimming stuff draped over my tent to dry. My shoes are now finally dry too, after three days of sliding about in my plastic bag-lined shoes. My feet are now sore and blistered from all the walking.

I'm in Dunorlan Park and it feels like mid summer. I can feel the sun burning my skin again. I waited until I got here to eat, as I know the food here is cheap. Got a baked potato and salad for under £3, not bad. I have painted for a while, read my book (third one I've read this week) for a while, and spent hours just sitting.

Normally I would enjoy lazing about on a day like this but I feel it is wasted. I keep thinking of all the things Alistair and I could be doing today. I wish I could just ring him and go out for the day, wearing summer clothes and eating ice cream. I didn't prepare for this weather, I'm still wearing a long-sleeved top, jeans and heavy trainers.

For the first time I feel tempted to quit the challenge. I want to be able to buy an ice cream without feeling guilty about blowing my limited budget. I want an ice cold can of Coke. Even when I'm not hungry I feel the need to eat. Since there are no places to go at the weekend for free food my expenditure has greatly increased in the last day. I did prepare for this, thankfully. But I feel I've wasted so much because all the food I had bought - bread, cheese, butter - had to be thrown out because of the heat yesterday.

God I really want to go home. Even just to curl up in front of the television or go see a movie. I'm sick of this routine, having to get settled before it is dark. I haven't gone to bed this early since I was in primary school! Even if I did stay out past 8pm tonight, where would I go? The only place open is the pub. I can understand why so many homeless people turn to drink. When your days are this long it sure is one way to escape the boredom and simply pass the hours. I can honestly admit I think I would end up an alcoholic if I was homeless. It really is a downward spiral. Without a home you can't get a job. Without a job you have no money. You can't go anywhere or do anything so with the limited funds you do have what is the best way to spend your time? I know this is ending on Monday, but I still just wish I could be with friends or family. During the week I was happy in the knowledge everyone I know was at work, but today all around me are people out enjoying their free time, so it's difficult not to be spiteful. At least it does end on Monday. Otherwise I don't know if I could survive this for long. One week feels like three, it is depressing.

Day Seven: Sunday 28 September, 2008.

3.30pm.

The last day has been uneventful. I sat in Dunorlan Park until it closed last night. Got burnt again, I've never felt so bored and so isolated. Very nearly made the call to John to pack it all in. Had to remind myself I was so nearly there, just two nights to go. I went to bed without dinner because I simply couldn't think of anything I wanted to eat. I craved something rich and healthy, like porcini risotto, yum. But I knew I would just end up having chips or sandwiches again, so I went to bed. Finished another book. Perhaps being homeless for a while would do me good, I'd be extremely well read! This morning I lay in the tent until 10am. I just lay there, not doing anything because I couldn't think of anything to do. Went to Calverley to fill up my water bottle and sat there for a while. So bored. Walked into town where I bought a Subway then sat down and watched a guy busking. He was playing a guitar and singing his heart out. He was fantastic. I gave him my change and asked why he played, was he homeless. He said "It makes me feel alive. It's the only time I forget all my problems". I suddenly wished I could play an instrument! He said he used to be homeless, but the Bridge Trust helped him get back on his feet. I loved that he still busked, for the love of music, nothing else.

I went to get a train to Sevenoaks, thought I'd see what being homeless was like there. But when I got to the station there was a replacement bus sitting outside so I jumped on and asked why there were no trains - maintenance works. But as I was supposed to still buy a ticket in the station the driver let me on for free - hurrah! I thought a change of scenery would cure my boredom and frustration, and prevent me bailing out. The bus drove me half way around Kent. When I finally got to Sevenoaks I didn't know what to do. I walked up the high street and realised everything was closed. No such thing as Sunday opening hours in this town. I went to the Tourist Information Centre and it was closed too. Typical. Found public toilets - bottles of gin and vodka lying around so I thought this could have been a homeless persons hide out. I felt a bit stranded. I'd only ever been to Sevenoaks once before so I thought "Where would all the homeless people go?" I saw a sign for Knole park and followed it. Didn't expect rolling hills and deer on a meadow - no homeless people here!

Went to a pub in the town centre, as pub landlords usually know everything that goes on in a town. But I was greeted by a barman who didn't look old enough to be serving alcohol and when I asked where the homeless people hang out he replied with a half-laugh-half-scoff. So I sat down and drank my half-pint.

Realised I was now homeless, alone and sitting in a pub drinking beer. Great.

8pm (tent)

Made my way back to Tunbridge Wells at about 5pm as I had to meet Jon at 6pm for the last video diary. It felt so good to talk to someone after 53 hours (yes, I counted) of being alone and bored. I felt a lot better. Got chips again for dinner, there is simply nowhere else to get ready-made food that is cheap, and am now thinking a lot about what I will eat tomorrow. A nice big freshly cooked homemade meal with lots of veg. Pork loin roast, grilled chicken, risotto, roast beef. Anything but chips.

Day Eight: Monday 29th September, 2008.

9.55am (train)

I'm finally here. I'm so relieved to have made it to the last day, and excited about getting my life back! I suddenly feel a new lease of life after feeling so cut off from the world at the weekend and I can't wait to see Alistair. Also can't wait to get home and have a shower and put clean clothes on. I really feel like getting dressed up after a week of looking, well, like a tramp!

I don't think I could take much more of the pain in my hips, I can't wait to have a proper night's sleep without tossing and turning every half-hour. Last night was cold again, but I didn't mind so much because I knew it was the last night.

I don't know why, but I feel a little nervous, anxious even. Probably because I know everyone will be asking me lots of questions! Pulling into Tonbridge station now.