Many of us have missed the likes of Scope just as much as Primark or John Lewis. We spend a day with happily returning customers, donors and staff
Theres a new purple wheelie bin on Walthamstow High Street in north-east London, outside No 210, and its filling up fast. Michael Armstrong and Louise Craven have just put a bag of books in. “Weve got several bags from lockdown tidying and were going to bring it in one bag at a time,” says Michael. He doesnt sound like hes from north-east London. Because he isnt – hes originally from California. He came here 40 years ago, “for the weather”, says Craven, his partner, drolly.
Her irony maybe backfires a little today. Its a glorious day in Walthamstow – the high street is pretty much Sunset Boulevard minus the palms.
Among the books is what Armstrong describes as “some rather odd poetry journals”, a study of American architecture and The Glass Room by Simon Mawer, which they have both read and recommend.
Theyre not getting thrown away but recycled, hopefully reread. Because No 210, set between a betting shop and a fish bar, is a charity shop belonging to Scope, the national disability charity. This week, like other non-essential retailers, charity shops in England were able to open for the first time in almost three months, to customers and for donations.
Another bag goes into the purple bin. This one contains a brown jacket from Ben Odamtten, who says its too small for him. Theres also a card holder and two pairs of shades in his bag. And I have donated a couple of bags, mostly of outgrown childrens clothes. I wanted to bring the popcorn machine, too, but my family wouldnt let me. No one needs a popcorn machine.
Scopes area manager, Lara Woolston, explains the new process. Donations go from the purple bin into heavy-duty bin bags, which are labelled with the date, tied up with giant rubber bands, taken to a room above the store and left for 72 hours to minimise any risk of infection. Safety of staff, volunteers and customers is Scopes priority, Im told, often.
The acting shop manager, Celia Mullins, is up here, busy clearing out bays that can be filled in date order. Quarantine for donated clothes, books, CDs, sunglasses etc is going to be stricter and better organised than it is for arrivals at UK airports. Theres already a lot of stuff up here, but if it fills up there is an overflow storage unit in Barking.
They have done a lot on the shop floor, too, putting in all the necessary safety measures. It has all been unmuddled and decluttered; the rummage boxes – with things, such as toys, that kids would play with – have been removed from the floor. “Were trying to limit the number of times people need to touch things,” says Woolston.
Fitting room? Not any more – its taped off like a crime scene. Buy it; if it doesnt fit, bring it back. And theres a one-way system, with arrows on the floor, plus “sneeze screens” at the tills. Customers are offered hand sanitiser along with a mask and gloves on entering. “Its been a long time since weve been able to welcome our wonderful community through our doors,” says Woolston. For the moment though, they are only allowing one person – or one family – in at a time.
Scopes Walthamstow shop has lost roughly £33,000 during lockdown. In normal times all the charitys 207 shops generate between £1.7m and £1.9m a month. In April, with none open, the charitys income was 85% down on the same period last year. It has managed to make some money through online sales, and will do more of that in the future.
Its the same story across the whole sector: the pandemic makes no allowances for good causes. The chancellor Rishi Sunaks £750m bailout fund for charities didnt come close to replacing lost income, not just because of shops being closed but also because of the cancellation of other means of fundraising – the London Marathon and the Great North Run to name two massive ones. Street-funding, too, as well as the possibility that people are more likely to give to NHS charities at the moment. A study published last week found that one in 10 charities faces bankruptcy by the end of the year as they struggle with a £10bn shortfall caused by a perfect storm of massive income reduction and rocketing demand for their services. “Its been a devastating loss of income,” Scopes head of retail, Debbie Boylen, tells me over the phone. “Because its been at a time when disabled people need us the most.”
I could have spent the morning at any charity shop and the picture would have been similar. Ive come to Scope simply because its where we usually bring stuff to. That said, my local branch isnt among the first wave of 16 shops around the country opening as lockdown eases, so Ive travelled across London. Hence just the two bags: theres plenty more to come at home, under the stairs, from our own Covid clearout. Boylen thinks its not just us. “Everybody I speak to is saying the same, that theyve been clearing out cupboards and wardrobes over the past few months.”
Each bag is worth, on average, £20 to Scope; 81 bags would, for example, allow it to run its Parents Connect support programme, for parents and carers of young disabled people in Leeds, for a week.
The bin is soon full, the contents bagged up and taken up to Mullins to be placed in quarantine. This system for dropping stuff doesnt allow gift aid to be claimed for donations, says Woolston, so they miss out on that, but its unavoidable with the only-one-in-the-shop policy. That may be relaxed, but for now gift aid donors cant be expected to queue.
As well as the purple wheelie bin, thats the other new thing outside No 210: a queue. Beautifully spaced, orderly, patient, not as long as the ones outside Asda and Lidl down the street but undeniably a queue. It seems the appetite not just to donate but to shop in charity shops is alive and well. “Ive missed it,” says Shahnaz Khan, one of the first people in. “You can get so many nice things from here, and the people are very nice.” She comes out with a pink handbag.
Alan Donoghue, who used to work here and is queuing on a mobility scooter, says its a good way to pass the morning. “It does you good mentally, and also sometimes there might be stuff that you want.” Hes not after anything specific, though hes always on the look out for tea towels, fridge magnets and commemorative plates.
Is anyone here for something specific, Woolston asks the queue. “Tennis racket,” says a man named Mike Anderson. He tells me hes started playing a bit in order to start seeing people. He has been borrowing his friends girlfriends racket but now is the time to take responsibility. Two minutes later, Woolston is back out of the shop with a choice of two: Anderson opts for the more expensive, a Slazenger for a fiver. The deal is done on the street. “Probably illegally,” laughs Woolston.
Anderson is chuffed enough with his purchase. “Charity shop, so, you know, standards are slightly lower,” he says. “But it looks lovely, its got its own cover; if anybody saw me walking towards a tennis court they would think I was going to play tennis, which is half the battle won, isnt it?”
Nina Bright doesnt shop anywhere but charity shops, except for socks and underwear. So she hasnt bought any clothes for three months. Shes just happy to be out looking and isnt bothered about the queue. “Its fine – Ive got nothing else to do,” she says. Nor is she bothered that, once she does get inside the shop, she doesnt find anything to buy. She dismisses it as “the lottery of thrifting”.
Maybe Odion Edgal will be more successful. Shes on the hunt for books; she ran out over lockdown. “I miss books a lot – I need something to read.” She finds something – not Armstrong and Cravens odd poetry journals or American Architecture, but Camp David, David Walliamss 2012 autobiography. For £2. “Thats why I come – I cant afford to go to Waterstones.”
I leave before the Walthamstow shop closes at 4pm, but I get an update. Its been good – takings are 3% down on a normal Monday, but thats much higher than expected given the restrictions, including shorter hours. And, over the 16 stores that have opened, takings have actually been about £5,000 up.
There have been 56 bags of donations in Walthamstow. Not quite enough for a week of Parents Connect, unless there are some treasures in there – a Mulberry handbag perhaps – and Woolston and Mullins wont know for another couple of days, when they can open up the bags. Maybe those poetry journals will turn out to be rare treasures and can be sold at auction for millions. Maybe.
Its going to pick up further as more charity shops open and people realise this, and then get their acts together to get down there. I know of several bags destined for a purple bin in the near future; one of them might just have a kitchen gadget snuck in there. Maybe someone does need a popcorn maker – just not me.