My year at the food bank: What I learned about modern Britain

The man walked in and silently sat down, a large rucksack on his back, wearing a winter hat but no coat. I offered him a drink. Tea? Coffee? Bourbon biscuit? A glass of water? He politely declined and didn’t seem in the mood for a chat. This isn’t unusual. Often the first time that many people find themselves at a food bank they are full of heightened emotions. Sometimes embarrassment, shame, fear, overwhelm. The lingering question: how did I end up here? Read more.