1I hadn’t got many decisions right in my life. Whenever I’d been given an opportunity in the past ten years I’d screwed things up big time. Within a couple of days of deciding to become a Big Issue seller, however, I was pretty sure that I’d taken a step in the right direction for once.

2It had an immediate impact on life for me and Bob. For a start it gave us more structure. I effectively had a Monday to Friday job, well, a Monday to Saturday one, in fact.

3For those first two weeks, Bob and I worked at Covent Garden from Monday to Saturday, which tied in with the publication of the magazine. The new edition would come out each Monday morning.

4We’d be there from sometime in the middle of the morning, and often finish at the end of the early evening rush hour, which was around 7p.m. We stayed for as long as it took us to sell a batch of papers.

5Being with Bob had already taught me a lot about responsibility but the Big Issue took that to another level. If I wasn’t responsible and organised I didn’t earn money. And if I didn’t earn money Bob and I didn’t eat. So from that very first fortnight, I had to grasp how to run my Big Issue pitch as a business.

6For someone whose life had been completely disorganised for the best part of ten years, this was a huge leap. I’d never been great with money, and had to live from hand to mouth. I surprised myself with the way I adapted to the new demands.

7There were downsides, of course, there were bound to be. There is no sale or return with the Big Issue so I learned quickly that if you miscalculated the amount of magazines, you could lose out quite badly. You can take a serious blow if you are stuck with fifty papers on Saturday night. Come Monday, you get no credit against the next purchase from the old magazines, so the old papers are pulp. At the same time, you didn’t want to under buy. Too few and you’d sell out too quickly and miss out on willing buyers. It was no different from running Marks and Spencer’s—well, in theory.

8The other thing you had to factor in was that there was a huge difference in the quality of the magazines from week to week. Some weeks it would be a good issue packed with interesting stuff. Other weeks it would be quite dull and really hard to sell, especially if the cover didn’t have some famous film or rock star on it. It could be a bit unfair.

9It took a while to get the balance right.

10While I was working out the best way to sell the Big Issue, I still lived from hand to mouth. What I earned between Monday and Saturday evening was generally gone by Monday morning. Sometimes at the start of each week I’d turn up at the coordinator’s stand with only a few quid. If Sam was there I’d ask her to do me a favour and buy ten papers for me on the understanding I’d pay her back as soon as I had some money. She would usually do this for vendors who she knew she could trust to repay her and I had done this once or twice before when I was desperate and always repaid her within hours. I knew the money was coming out of her pocket, not the Big Issue’s, so it was only fair.

11Then when I had sold those copies I’d go back and pay off what I owed and get some more papers. I’d build it up that way from there.

12As a result of this, in real terms, I was actually making less money than I had been busking with Bob. But as I settled down into this new routine, I decided it was a price worth paying. The fact that I was working legitimately on the streets made a huge difference to me. If I got stopped by a policeman, I could produce my badge and be left in peace. After the experience with the Transport Police that meant a lot.

13The next couple of months working at the tube station flew by. In many ways it was similar to busking. We’d attract the same sort of people: a lot of middle-aged and elderly ladies, groups of female students, gay guys but also people from all walks of life.

14One day during the early part of the autumn of 2008 we were approached by a very flamboyant-looking guy. He had bleached-blond hair and was wearing jeans, cowboy boots and I could tell that the leather jacket and jeans must have cost a fortune. I was sure he was an American rock star; he certainly looked like one.

15As he’d walked along, he had immediately spotted Bob. He stopped in his tracks and smiled.

16‘That’s one cool cat,’ he said, in a sort of transatlantic drawl.

17He looked really familiar but I couldn’t for the life of me place him. I was dying to ask him who he was, but thought it was rude. I was glad I didn’t.

18He spent a minute on his knees just stroking Bob.

19‘You guys been together long? ’ he asked.

20‘Uhhmm, gosh, let me think,’ I said, having to work it out. ‘Well we got together in the spring of last year, so it’s about a year and a half now.’ ‘Cool. You look like real soul brothers,’ he smiled. ‘Like you belong together.’ ‘Thanks,’ I said, by now desperate to know who the hell this guy was.

21Before I could ask him he got up and looked at his watch.

22‘Hey, gotta go, see you guys around,’ he said, reaching into a pocket in his jacket and producing a wad of cash.

23He then dropped a tenner into my hand.

24‘Keep it,’ he said, as I began to rummage around for change. ‘You guys have a good day.’

25‘We will,’ I promised him. And we did.

26It made such a difference that I was now working outside the tube station legitimately. I’d had a couple of moments with some of the familiar faces from the tube station again, one or two of whom had given me some filthy looks. I’d ignored them. The rest of the staff there were actually fine. They knew I was getting on with my job and as long as I didn’t offend or harass anyone, that was fine.

27Inevitably, Bob and I had also got a bit of attention from other Big Issue vendors in the area.

28I wasn’t so naive as to think that everything was going to be all sweetness and light with the other vendors and assorted street workers. Life on the streets wasn’t like that. It wasn’t a community built on caring for each other, it was a world in which everyone looked after number one. But, to begin with, at least, most of the other Big Issue sellers reacted warmly to the sight of the new guy with a cat on his shoulders.

29There had always been vendors around with dogs. One or two of them had been real characters. But, as far as I was aware, there had never been a Big Issue seller with a cat in Covent Garden—or anywhere else in London—before.

30Some of the vendors were rather sweet about it. A few of them came up and started stroking him and asking questions about how we met and what I knew about his background. The answer, of course, was nothing. He was a blank slate, a mystery cat, which seemed to endear everyone to him even more.

31No one was interested in me, of course. The first thing they’d say when they saw us again was ‘How’s Bob today?’ No one ever asked how I was. But that was OK, that was to be expected. I knew the air of bonhomie wouldn’t last. It never did on the streets.

32With Bob at my side I discovered that I could sell as many as thirty or even fifty papers on a good day. At £2 a paper, as they were priced back then, it could add up quite well, especially with the tips that some people gave me—or, more usually, Bob.

33One early autumn evening, Bob was sitting on my rucksack, soaking up the last of the day’s sun, when a very well-heeled couple walked past the tube station. To judge by their outfits they were heading for the theatre or maybe even the opera.

34He was wearing a tuxedo and a bow tie and she had a black silk dress on.

35‘You two look very smart,’ I said, as they stopped and started drooling over Bob.

36The lady smiled at me but the guy ignored me.

37‘He’s gorgeous,’ the lady said. ‘Have you been together for a long time?’ ‘Quite a while,’ I said. ‘We kind of found each other on the streets.’ ‘Here you go,’ the guy said, suddenly pulling out his wallet and removing a twenty-pound note.

38Before I could even reach into my coat to fish out some change, he’d waved me away. ‘No that’s fine, keep it,’ he said, smiling at his companion.

39The look she gave him spoke volumes. I had a feeling they were on a first date.

40She had clearly been impressed by him giving me that much money.

41As they walked off I noticed her leaning into him and wrapping her arm into his.

42I didn’t care whether it was genuine or not. It was the first time I’d ever been given a twenty-pound drop.

43After a few more weeks of trying out the spot at the tube station, I realised that—far from being a ‘bad’ pitch—the tube station was actually ideal for me and Bob. So I was disappointed when Sam told me that having finished my probation period I would be moving to another pitch at the end of the fortnight.

44It wasn’t exactly a surprise. The thing about being a member of the Big Issue vendor community is that everyone can see how well each other is doing. When the vendors go to the coordinator they can see who has been buying what quantities on a list that’s there for everyone to see. You can read it and spot who has been buying papers in batches of tens and twenties and how many batches they are buying. So during that first fortnight, they would have seen that I was buying a lot of magazines.

45It soon became obvious that it was something that had been spotted by some of the other vendors. In that second week I noticed a subtle but definite change in the attitude towards me.

46I wasn’t at all surprised when Sam told me that I’d ended my probation and would now be moved to a different pitch. Our new location wasn’t a long way from the tube station, on the corner of Neal Street and Short’s Gardens, outside a shoe shop called Size.

47I got the distinct feeling that the older hands had taken a dislike to me and Bob and hadn’t taken too kindly to us doing so well out of what was supposed to be a bad pitch. For once, however, I buttoned my lip and accepted it. Choose your battles, James, I counselled myself.

48It turned out to be good advice.