Why Backpack Beds?
As a little girl I occasionally had a babysitter come stay with myself and my siblings whilst my parents went to dinner. Her name was Mrs Butterworth and she would always indulge me with a story of The Little Match Girl.
I was convinced the little girl was my age and like me she had curly hair, although hers was fair (which Mrs Butterworth told me meant very light coloured). I could vividly picture the girl in the story sitting in the snow freezing to death trying to sell matches whilst dreaming of a warm home and food in her belly. I felt very sad for her and that feeling has stuck with me throughout my life and more so as I learned how many people sleep on the street.