The Smelly Old Man: A Lesson on Judgement, Humanity and Unexpected Grace in a Portsmouth Food Kitchen

When a Routine Day Becomes a Divine Appointment

What began as a simple trip to pick up my dentist‑recommended mouth guard turned into an unexpected spiritual confrontation. I had no idea that a quiet afternoon with a cappuccino, a book, and a community lounge would become a lesson in judgement, humility, and the sacredness of every human life.

A Quiet Afternoon Interrupted by Purpose

After leaving the dentist, I settled into a community space with my book. Hours slipped by until I noticed volunteers wheeling items into the now‑closed café. It was a food kitchen preparing for the evening meal.

A few people—men and women—began arriving early. Feeling out of place, I prepared to leave.

Then he walked in.

The Smelly Old Man: When Judgement Shows Up in Your Face

He was frail, unwashed, and pushing a trolley. His clothes were smudged, and he carried a smell that made my first instinct to flee.

I debated internally:

• “If I stand up, he’ll feel slighted.”
• “But I cannot abide this stench.”

Then came the rebuke in my spirit:

“Such hypocrisy. You prayed this morning for an opportunity to witness. Now you have one, and you are bolting because he is homeless and dirty?”

It hit me like an ice bucket on a Christmas morning in Iceland.

Meeting Bill: The Man Behind the Smell

When he returned from the bookshelf with two books, I finally greeted him. Let’s call him Bill.

He showed me Brunel’s Britain and Isambard’s Kingdom. Despite living in Portsmouth—Brunel’s name everywhere—I had somehow always mispronounced it as Brunei.

Bill, 82, born in Portsmouth, with no family, began to talk. And slowly, he came alive.

He told me about:

• Brunel’s upbringing
• The Clifton Suspension Bridge
• His father’s influence
• Brunel’s contemporary, George Stephenson
• Charles Dickens, Arthur Conan Doyle, and H.G. Wells

This man—homeless, overlooked, dismissed by society—held a library in his mind.

Shared Humanity in a Food Kitchen

As more people arrived, I observed the dynamics of the room:

• A man celebrating one week and one day smoke‑free
• Volunteers preparing tables
• People from at least five nationalities
• A young man in his early 20s
• A Turkish man with the loudest voice
• Two Black men
• A South Asian woman

Bill told me about the laundromat he uses—the same one I used when I was homeless.

He listed the food kitchens across the city, including where he had eaten breakfast that morning.

The Food Cycle Project: Community in Action

Curiosity led me online. The Food Cycle Project is a Portsmouth City Council initiative where:

• Local retailers donate fresh food
• Volunteers cook a 3‑course vegan meal
• Anyone can walk in—no questions asked

I promised to return one day to volunteer and make jollof rice.

Human Nature Knows No Class

When the free items table opened, people rushed forward, grabbing more than they needed. Bill—slow, frail Bill—suddenly moved with surprising speed, returning with two bottles tucked into his trolley.

It reminded me:

Human nature is the same everywhere. Class does not erase greed. Poverty does not erase dignity.

Conclusion — Where Did You Learn to Judge?

As I left, one question echoed in my spirit:

Where did you learn to assess the value of a human based on their apparel?

This encounter was not about a smelly old man. It was about me. About us. About the quiet prejudices we carry. And about the God who uses unexpected people to reveal our blind spots.

One story. Two voices.  Originally written in my voice here  while this post was rewritten by AI.  Which voice sits better with you?

Talking of community, what is it like where you come from or currently live? Below is an article I wrote last year on community when my neighbour transitioned.

Talking of community, what is it like where you come from or currently live? Below is an article I wrote last year on community when my neighbour transitioned

You Can Never Walk Alone

FoodCycle Portsmouth John Pounds Centre