just how deep the problem is on the Island. Here, reporter Matthew Taylor takes to the streets of Hamilton with one charity worker who is desperate to help those unfortunate enough not to have a roof over their heads.

At a time when most people are plodding the pavements getting last minute Christmas gifts, Fern Wade is out giving something far more vital -- food for the homeless.

On a chilly night recently The Royal Gazette joined her and her side-kick Kenneth Robertson on their mercy mission.

Two minutes into our tour of Hamilton, by the Leopard's Club in Cedar Avenue, Fern spots two regulars, Rob (not his real name) and his girlfriend.

Clutching a Heineken Rob is dressed for a night sleeping rough in his leather jacket and hooded top.

But he seems clean and in good health and is certainly not after the sympathy vote as he deals with my questions as if he was being probed by a particularly slow-witted four-year-old.

"I have been out here for the last five years -- anything I need my Father provides,'' he reveals.

Asked where he will sleep tonight Rob's answer is equally cryptic.

"In my Father's house -- wherever He provides.

"Whether it be rain, snow, whatever, He will provide a place for me. He will provide shelter.'' Last night his Father again provided Rob a spot in Victoria Park. A good night's sleep according to Rob, who denies it was cold.

"I am out here because I choose to be, not because I have to be. I can get an apartment just like that.'' "I live in the States, I am back here for a period of time. In that period I choose to do this. I had two apartments but why should I give someone else money when I can save it for when I go back home? "Those that don't want to be out here have problems. Some can't cope. The weather doesn't bother me because, before houses, where did men sleep? In their Father's house -- outside.'' Asked for tips about sleeping outside Rob is incredulous.

"Lay down! And then go to sleep! For the entire night! "I sleep in this park every night, the cops come and wake me, I say look I am going back to sleep. I ain't causing no disturbance. As long as your conscience is clear -- go to sleep!'' And when it rains? "My father will provide me with shelter -- as long as he gives me a little canvas to cover myself with I am happy.

`There's a lot of denial going on' "If you can't deal with it they've got the Salvation Army, go there. I choose to live out there. Because guess what? It's safer outside than inside you know.

"Because when they have hurricanes I was out there sleeping. I didn't get my roof blown down.

"My family only know me when they want. I still say thank you Lord and bless them.

"But don't call me because you want something, because when I want something you don't give it. You tell me get a job. What's that got to do with the price of water? "Some people are out here because the Lord wants them to be out here, to show the others how to be straight up and do things in a righteous way.

Looking at me skeptically Rob declares: "You are paying attention but you are not listening. I choose to be out here, and when I get tired I will stop.

"If you were stranded on a desert island you wouldn't survive -- because you are too hooked on material stuff.

"You believe in things like your electricity, your radio and TV and all that there. You get in a plane crash or a boat sinks you're going to be lost!'' And this minimalist approach applies to Rob's own possessions -- the only thing which accompany him is the car cleaning stuff.

"The good Lord provides my food, the good Lord provides my clothing. He provides me with whatever I need.

"The only valuable things I have is my soul and my heart. Everything else is material.'' "Material things have no value -- you can't take it up with you because they will fall out of your pockets.

"And you can't take it down with you because it will burn before you get there.

"So what good is it? Material things mean nothing because they are replaceable, but your soul ain't.'' Asked what the most important thing in his life is Rob answers "Nothing...

besides the good Lord.'' However I find common ground when I ask him what he does for pleasure.

"Drink! I drink -- and when I get tired I lay down and go to sleep.

And Rob has a ready answer for anyone about to thrown the drinking/worshipping contradiction at him.

"The good Lord says whatever you do in my name, bless it. So I bless it and I thank the Lord and I drink. So long as you don't abuse it.'' But homeless Rob has little sympathy for those who let the drink take hold and who end up the same as him, on the streets.

"Either you control it or it controls you. And anyone who says they lost their house because of alcohol? The only alcohol is their dumbness because they allowed it to control them.

"Whatever man makes he can take away. If you can't control it then don't use.'' With that Rob, abruptly ends the interview to join his girlfriend but as he trots off he bids me good night.

Back in the car Fern tells me Rob's story, which comes as no great shock.

"He's an alcoholic. Like most of these guys he's very intelligent.

"He's there because he's drinking. He chooses not to pay rent so he has more money for booze. There's quite a few like that.'' And at that early hour of the evening Rob was still cogent.

"Catch him later and you will think there's a localised hurricane,'' Fern says.

We visit the Par-la-Ville parking lot -- another favourite homeless hangout -- but we draw a blank.

"Some of the ladies normally hang here. But when it gets chilly they move from place to place.

"Friday and Saturday night -- that's the night. You can see them all hanging out. Some of them have been paid.

Car cleaning is a favourite hustle. "You'd earn about $100 a week for cleaning cars. It's about $20-30 per car.'' At that rate I start to wonder why, if the car washers upped their activity, they couldn't be making a decent living, but it seems there aren't that many cars to go around.

"It depends on who want their cars done. There's a lot of business on Friday because people want their cars nice for the weekend.

"Taking out the trash is another hustle.'' We start to hunt for `John' -- another of Fern's flock.

We make a fruitless run to Albouy's Point as Fern hums along to the carols being piped about the town to spur on late night shoppers.

All the parks are used by the homeless, despite the best efforts of the Police to chase them out.

"They like to hide there, they can use the benches. The toilet's right there.

When the gates are locked no one is coming in anyway.'' Fern thinks it's fair enough that vagrants aren't allowed to hang about on private property but on public property she has other views.

She says: "If you just can't say to someone move on when you can see the person's condition. It doesn't make sense, you should say what can we do for you? "Try to think of that individual like it was you. He's a human being. They talk about cruelty to animals but what about cruelty to humans. Humans are more important than animals.

"The Police should take them up to the shelter rather than just say move on.'' However with its early curfew the homeless person might find there is no room at the inn when they reach the Salvation Army -- the Island's only shelter.

"They shut down at 7 p.m. I don't know why that happens.

"It's important we get other shelters. That's what I would like to do.'' As we reach Front Street we spot John relaxing near a taxi rank with a rum and coke on a break from his part-time dish-washing job at a nearby bar.

With a neat beard and bright white tee-shirt John doesn't look like my idea of a vagrant.

Clearly many of us have been rubbing shoulders with the homeless without even thinking about it.

John has to return to work. I ask where I can find him tomorrow.

"Front Street -- that's where you will find me.'' He adds, with unmissable irony: "I am never too far from home.'' We head off and Fern gives me John's story.

"John has been on the street for about three years now. He had an apartment.

He was staying with me for six months.

"Very intelligent, educated, a certificate in cookery. Most of these guys have qualifications. He's very intelligent but he has a criminal record, so no one wants to hire him, he's been in and out of prison for breaking and entering, stabbing a guy.

"But he chooses this -- he likes his rum.

"He will pay five dollars and get a shower at the Salvation Army and get a change of clothes. There's washing facilities there.'' The complex also acts as a go-between for employers and homeless people looking for temporary work.

"This time of year, there's a lot going on, people need workers. You can always get a hustle.'' Homeless women can get work cleaning houses or hotels, but pay rates are far from generous.

Fern says John will get paid about $250 a week for his dish-washing job -- about half the going rate for regular workers in hotels where tips play a part.

"Businesses can get cheap labour, not pay insurance. But it is something, they can get a shave and a haircut, until another hustle comes up.

"But he will probably spend it all on the alcohol and then you are back to square one.'' Ferns reckons there could be well over a 100 like John living rough in the Hamilton area. "There are always homeless people who don't want to be known,'' she says.

"It passes a lot of ordinary people by, there's a lot of denial going on.

It's everywhere.

"But if you are not out there and it is not affecting you then you don't think about it. But once it affects you -- if you are the victim of breaking and entering or robbing -- that's when you realise.'' We spot a man in his sixties walking with a younger man in Reid Street.

The pair is homeless says Fern, who regularly gives the older man food, but when we stop to talk he denies it.

The younger one, like John, doesn't look like a man who has spent years snatching sleep in makeshift arrangements open to the elements.

But on a closer inspection I spot the many layers of clothes which will keep the warmth in when the temperature drops later that night.

Their denial is typical says Fern. Kenneth fills me in.

He says: "They are my cousins -- they are father and son. The son is in his thirties. They don't have anywhere to stay but they weren't going to tell you.

"The younger one has been out on the street for more than three years.'' Fern said: "They will walk all night until morning and then get a hustle.

Cleaning cars or a container or whatever.'' Fern isn't sure how they ended up in this twilight world. "Maybe they just gave up. Nobody wants them, nobody cares.'' We head to the Salvation Army shelter which houses up to 86 homeless people.

A lot of them have fall outs with the Salvation Army and can't go back there, according to Fern.

One tells her: "The Salvation Army isn't interested in emergency housing.

They are interested in the emergency dollar.'' If you don't have any money you can't get a bed.'' At an abandoned car in a road behind the complex four vagrants are gathered.

Fern asks if everybody has had something to eat. One frostily tells her: "Yes, we have already had something to eat, thank you.'' Fern tells him about the Christmas dinner being held on Court Street, but his attitude softens only slightly.

I am introduced to Jerry, (not his real name) who is the Lord Martonmere of the homeless according to Fern.

"I have been staying in a car. There's just me. Sometimes I go for food at the shelter.'' Cold or heat isn't a problem in the car says Jerry.

"It's better than being over there,'' says Jerry gesturing towards the Salvation Army.

And Jerry tells me he has no desire to get an apartment.

"This is just like living in a house, only different.'' During the day he cleans cars and in the evenings he joins his pals to play cards.

Jerry says: "People know about the homeless but nobody wants to do anything about it. If they did they would have long corrected the problem.'' Jerry is a proud man but when I ask him how long he will be out on the streets I sense a catch in his voice and immediately I feel like a voyeur, taking an unhealthy fascination in his misery.

"I am more happy than if I had a lot of money, I am more happier than that.

"My family know I am here but I am more happy than them. They don't visit.'' I ask what happens when he bumps into them. "Nothing, nothing at all, we speak, that's it.'' Fern tells me about how the homeless spend their evenings.

"They get together to drink, gamble or take drugs, that type of thing but it's not that tight, everyone has their own area to avoid clashes and fights.'' During her rounds Fern sees the unseemly side of Bermuda. "There's a lot of crack houses.

"The number one thing that strikes me is who cares? The Government is making all the money.'' In Dundonald Street we see another face familiar to Fern. He says he is out of food.

We pass over two dollars to the shambling bearded man who mutely accepts the cash and wanders off looking confused.

We spot the newly completed church on Union Street. Visible through its windows is a state-of-the-art lighting system.

Fern says: "Look at all the churches we have now, couldn't that have been turned into apartments? "We understand that churches need a building, we don't have a problem with that. But come on! It's not about all of that. It's about people! Investing in people! "I mean buildings can burn down, what about peoples lives? Wouldn't it have been better to have put up a food bank, a clothing outlet, a mission? "I have been putting this to the churches for 20 years now but no one pays me any mind.

"I would like to see them open up the churches in the evening -- they have dining rooms where you could put down mattresses. Many of them don't have an evening service.''