A woman, who lost her business and home due to the effects of the covid pandemic and cost of living crisis, has spoken out about the “hell” of being housed in one of Cornwall Council’s homeless pods. 

Julie said what was supposed to be two months of emergency accommodation turned into 11 months of living in a “prison camp” surrounded by noise and anti-social behaviour from other residents, many of whom are former rough sleepers with addiction issues.

Julie – who did not want to give her surname for fear of reprisals – said she never expected her life to unravel the way it has over the past two years. 

She said: “I’ve always been a really strong person, and everyone has said if they’d been in one of the pods for a week they’d be terrified. Why am I there? I’ve lost all my fight. My friends have seen how I’ve changed – I cry all the time.”

She filmed a number of incidents on her phone from her cabin, including constant loud music, shouting and swearing in the early hours, and even one man boasting about stabbing people. She believes what happened to her could happen to any of us.

In January 2020 Julie was living in a three-bedroom bungalow in Helston, running a business in the town selling furniture, but following an economic downturn and being unwell with fibromyalgia she was forced to stop trading temporarily. Then covid struck and the lockdown added to her financial woes, meaning her business collapsed leaving her in debt.

She said: “I struggled to pay my rent as long as I could. I then constantly contacted Cornwall Housing who knew I was going through the eviction process and would be homeless within a few days. 

“They asked me what I was going to do, and I said I’d have to sleep on a friend’s sofa but I couldn’t stay there long term. As long as they had that address, nothing was ever done because I wasn’t seen as being homeless.

“I stayed at one friend’s for three months, then another friend’s for a month, then someone mentioned the pods and thought they sounded nice and would do me for the short-term. Then I spoke to an outreach worker at Cornwall Housing and told them I’d be living in my car within a couple of days; she said a pod had become available and then paused and said ‘well, everyone has a story to tell’. Warning bells should have rung then….”

Julie moved into the cabin-style site at Rosewarne long stay car park in Camborne. The site was opened by Cornwall Council in 2021 to continue its efforts to eliminate the need for short-term B&B or hotel accommodation to house those in urgent need of somewhere to stay. 

The Camborne premises for 18 people followed the opening of a similar development at Lys Kernow (New County Hall) in Truro, which saw 21 self-contained cabin units installed, and another site at Long Rock, Penzance.

The pods, which are leased from specialist company Bunkabin, offer residents a bed, desk space, a microwave, shower room and television without the fear of short-notice eviction. However, it wasn’t what Julie expected and for the next 11 months she said her life became a “living hell”.

“I was told it would only be for a maximum of two months, so I looked at the pod and it is what it is. It’s not about that, it’s about the people you’re put with. I was never told it was licensed for people with addictions. They kept saying, ‘it’s not just for people like that’, but why am I the only person like me here?

“Most people are unaware of the whole scenario at the pods unless you live on top of it. You know it’s an issue when it’s got 24-hour security with cameras watching your every move. Hand on heart, there is nobody that doesn’t drink, do drugs, something … they’ve all got issues.

“I was put there and went to the office to sign contracts and they asked to take my picture and I said no, and then they told me that every time I left I had to hand my key in … it’s like a prison camp. The reality kicked in of what was around me – you’d have them sat there drinking 24/7, all night they’re shouting ‘you effing c***, I’m going to kick your head in’. 

“Then you complain, they get a slapped wrist and continue the next night and the next night. There’s only so much the security can do. I wrote to the council with my concerns but they never wrote back, but would ring and say ‘oh it’s awful isn’t it’. But they wouldn’t get me out of the situation.”

Julie, who has spent as much of her time as possible away from the site during daylight hours, added: “There were drug dealers sat outside in the car park a few weeks ago. It’s all going on – the police are constantly there, ambulances are constantly there.

“They’re queuing up at 8am in the morning to buy their drink in town. I saw one guy covered in faeces for four days – nothing was done about it. You couldn’t walk past the pod for the stench. I saw him going out and getting four bottles of vodka one day and going out to get more the next day. He was drinking himself stupid.

“I was told I would only stay there for two months, but four months down the line when I felt like I was going insane I was still there. I was then told that I shouldn’t have been told that, which didn’t help matters. Even the security have said to me ‘why are you here, you don’t belong here’. They said they’ve never known anyone like me living in the pods on any of the sites in Cornwall. Every time I hear ‘you don’t belong here’ it gets to me.

“It’s hell. I try and get out as quickly as possible during the day. I’ve actually had sleep for three nights on the trot, which is unusual. There is constant music – dsh, dsh, dsh – arguments, fights, the pods are only 6ft to 10ft apart and it’s vibrating all across the car park. You ring the police and they say it’s noise, so nothing to do with them. Security can only say ‘turn your music down’ so many times.

“I went for three days without sleep at one point and by then the tears are streaming because I’m so angry and so tired. I couldn’t even talk I was so exhausted. They should have respect for everybody. Because I suffer from fibro I’m in agony, and the condition gets worse through stress. So what do I do? If I stay in the pod, it’s noise. I’ve never had a welfare check.”

Julie added: “As soon as you walk out of that site you get a name straight away, because people think you’re an addict. I’m classed as homeless, I don’t have any money, you can’t park on site because of insurance issues, and I couldn’t even get a permit for my car to park outside the gates, so I received several parking tickets. It would cost me £3 a day to park and then I was told I shouldn’t have a car anyway. We pay nothing, but the stipulation is you can’t work, no visitors – friends or relatives, no sharp knives so I can’t even chop an onion … the list is endless.”

How are you supposed to get out of the situation?

“You can’t, because most people there aren’t house-able. They’ve gone from one pod site to the other. One bloke urinates in bottles and throws it at staff when he’s pissed off. It’s vile. When you go to anyone you think you can to help, nothing’s done. You need permission to go away to visit friends as you need to be seen to be living in your pod. The summer’s real hell there as are holidays like Christmas, because they all sit outside their pods drinking until the early hours of the morning, and they’re just told to keep the noise down.”

Julie was so desperate recently that she mentioned to a friend that she felt like getting in her car and driving off a cliff. 

“It was a random comment, but a friend was concerned and I had the police on my doorstep for a welfare check,” she said “This has now been escalated, which might actually get something done. For the first time ever I’ve been called into the manager’s office in 11 months and had a proper conversation with her.

“It’s not about saying I can’t stand the place or the staff, they’ve got a lot to deal with. I understand that. People come through on probation because they need an address, and they get rehoused very quickly, but I’m still there.“Who would have thought my life would have got like this two years ago? I know people will comment, but have they been stuck in this for almost a year? How would they like it?”

Julie says she had approached some of the other residents of the cabin site, asking them to be more considerate following yet another night without sleep. “I went up to them and started shouting, ‘Look at the state of me because of you’, and one of them started crying and hugging me! Why are you crying, you’re the reason I’m like this?! It’s like a bloody comedy. Thankfully I’ve got a sense of humour and can laugh at a lot of these scenarios. But friends say ‘how the hell do you cope with that’?”

Friends who have helped Julie out in Camborne verified they’d seen occupants of the pods drinking, drug dealing and fighting in the town. One of them told me: “When you go to the car park all you can smell is weed and it’s supposed to be an alcohol and drug free site. It’s not fair on everybody else. You see them all pissed out of their heads.

“At first Julie was quite optimistic because she thought she’d only be there for two months and then get something else. This is ‘but for the grace of God’ kind of stuff. It could be any of us. When we watch Julie go in through the gates, I feel like crying because I know I’m going home to my house and she’s going back to that.”

Another of Julie’s friends, none of whom wanted to be named, said: “The news focuses on families and children needing homes. They’re need is great but Julie’s not the only single person who’s homeless. She’s been dumped and she can’t be the only one. When you’ve got a group of addicts together, they’re not going to stop their behaviour, so putting them all together isn’t fixing the problem. To put someone like Julie in the middle of that isn’t fair.”

Julie and her friends have inundated the council’s homeless moving-on team with letters, but feel they have been ignored. She said a member of staff at local MP George Eustice’s constituency office in Camborne had been a great support and had emailed 60 people, including accommodation providers, Cornwall councillors, support groups and housing charities, in an attempt to get her rehoused from the pods, but to no avail.

However, since the Local Democracy Reporting Service approached Cornwall Council last week with Julie’s concerns, she has been given new accommodation elsewhere in Cornwall and has finally moved out of the Bunkabin site after 11 months.

Cornwall Council is unable to comment on individual cases, but a spokesperson said: “We are very sympathetic to those who are finding it difficult to find somewhere settled to live as Cornwall continues to experience extreme and unprecedented pressures on housing. In the last three years, the number of households in need of emergency accommodation has increased by around 200 per cent to 750, while the number of households on our social housing register has more than doubled to around 22,000.

“The steps we have taken include the provision of emergency temporary accommodation so that residents are not housed in B&Bs or hotels. But we’re also working to provide housing through investment in our own stock of accommodation – recent projects include new modular homes, buying and refurbishing disused properties and providing dedicated ‘move on’ accommodation to support former rough sleepers to help people find settled, permanent, homes. We’re building more ‘council housing’ and have bought open market homes to convert into affordable housing for local people in need.

“We’re also working with developers, local communities, and partners to identify suitable sites. But there is no quick fix and sometimes residents have to be housed in temporary emergency accommodation for longer than we would like.

“Under homelessness legislation, the council has a duty to provide temporary accommodation to certain households and we work with them on a Personalised Housing Plan which sets out the steps they should take to secure alternative accommodation and the support that the council is able to offer with this which can include help with bidding for properties on Homechoice, or a rent advance and deposit to support the resident secure private rented accommodation.”