Tag: support

Woman smiling at the camera, in a park

A scholar’s rocky road to a fulfilling career

Author: | 22 Jul 2025

Imogen Andrews made a big impact on the audience when she spoke from the stage at the Longford Lecture in 2013 about her love for geology, her degree subject. ‘It rocks’, she said. Later, though, she dropped out of her degree but the support she experienced as a Longford Scholar, she now writes, has contributed to where she has got to in her career, running her own successful fundraising consultancy.

Life doesn’t always follow a planned route. My university journey, made possible by a Longford Trust scholarship, was unexpectedly cut short by a family breakdown that led to homelessness. Suddenly, the academic path I was on vanished. The future I’d imagined felt distant.

However, even amidst this crisis, support arrived from unexpected corners. The immediate crisis of homelessness was addressed by a dedicated charity that stepped in decisively, providing the crucial first month’s rent that enabled me to secure a place to live. Another organisation then provided essential supplies. These were distinct acts of kindness, each playing a vital role in my ability to rebuild.

Working in a gold mine

Before the family breakdown disrupted my studies, the Longford Trust had provided me with extra help to deal with the complex maths that was part of the geology course, via Margaret, an advanced maths teacher who was one of their volunteers.  Then, through my mentor, Luke, I was offered an extraordinary opportunity: work experience with his company in Africa on a gold mine.

This experience was truly transformative. Beyond the fascinating geology, a real-world immersion in the earth’s composition, I learned invaluable lessons about different cultures and myself. It undoubtedly gave me a unique perspective and a real-world edge. My education took an unexpected turn when I discovered first-hand the impressive (and slightly alarming) defensive spray of certain local beetles – a practical lesson in organic chemistry that university hadn’t prepared me for.

But survival then took precedence when I had to leave university. I grabbed the first job available: door-to-door fundraising. It wasn’t what I expected, going house-to-house, talking to strangers. It was a challenging start. But something clicked.

Sharing the support I had received

Connecting with people about a cause, inspiring them to help, felt meaningful. It was a way to give back, channelling the support I had received into benefiting others. I found my stride, moving into other areas of fundraising. I began to excel, consistently surpassing targets and breaking fundraising records.

My connection with the Longford Trust remained a source of incredible moments, both during and after my formal studies, with the annual lectures being a consistent high point. One year, after I had spoken on stage about the scholarship’s impact, I had the truly surreal and awesome experience of Vivienne Westwood calling me magnificent. It was a lifetime highlight, a moment of pure validation from someone so iconic.

Eventually, the skills and experience I gained in fundraising led me to a new ambition. I enjoyed the energy, the challenge, the direct link between my work and positive change. The skills I was developing – communication, resilience, empathy – felt incredibly valuable.

Where life can take you

Five years on, I lead my own fundraising and consulting agency. It’s a reality I couldn’t have envisioned, underscoring how initial opportunities can shape unexpected successes. The Longford Trust’s belief in me, and the experience in Africa, remain invaluable, even though my path diverged from academia. Overcoming homelessness and family breakdown, thanks to crucial early support, revealed an unforeseen strength in fundraising, which has become both my career and a source of genuine purpose. My journey is a testament to how life’s detours can lead to surprisingly fulfilling destinations.

Man smiling on green grass overlooking the sea

“I never know what he gets out of it. I get plenty”

Author: | 7 Jul 2025

Mentoring is a crucial part of our work. Every Longford Scholar is accompanied through their years at university by one of our trained Longford Trust mentors. These volunteers, who are all ages and come from all walks of life, generously give their time, energy and goodwill to supporting our scholars through what can be difficult transitions. Former journalist and lecturer Rob Campbell reflects on what mentoring means to him.

‘What did he do? Is he a murderer?’. That’s the first question friends asked when I became a Longford mentor.

Naturally I didn’t tell them, but I don’t blame them for asking. Crime is so fascinating that it dominates our headlines and, when we can’t get enough, we devour dramatized versions on television or read yet another thriller.

The reality of mentoring someone who’s done time, however, starts with parking that fascination, easily done because most offending seems too miserable and depressing to make a good story anyway.

What’s been more fascinating for me, since first meeting my mentee nearly three years ago, is how to understand the challenges faced by someone choosing the path of rehabilitation.

I’ve had to learn that while my mentee has done his time, paid his debt to society, and is officially no longer defined by an offence, there’s a hidden part of his sentence that continues.

Mentees might struggle with any or more of the following: finding self-discipline after years of being subject to someone else’s; handling fear of new friends discovering their past; difficulties in finding housing and work; trouble with past relationships.

Supportive in a crisis

Learning how to listen to any of that, effectively, has kept me on my toes. I learnt a lot from the Longford Trust’s training, and I’ve found the team always available for guidance, and very supportive in a crisis, but I’m no expert in any of these issues. I’m a retired lecturer, and my main experience of the justice system is from the press benches as a former journalist.

What I’ve learned, and am still learning, is that listening well depends on understanding your relationship with your mentee. It’s an odd one because you’re not their friend, parent, sibling, colleague, probation officer, social worker, lecturer, doctor, or grant-giver. You have no authority or leverage, and little to offer beyond a listening ear.

Listening ear

So I just listen, actively, to his ideas, plans, and worries, and it sounds serious but we have some laughs. Like when he couldn’t focus on reading in his room, with all the distractions of housemates and screens, and I asked him when reading was easier. The answer was in a cell, so he booked himself a silent study pod in the library and I felt like I’d sent him back inside. We’ve had a lot of laughs, mostly on FaceTime but also walking on the beach near his university, watching the waves, stopping for a pizza.

I may never know what he gets out of our meetings but I get plenty. There’s potentially the pride of helping him stay out of prison (and saving us all the cost) but I’ll never know. So it’s the other things that count: meeting someone outside of my usual cosy circles, admiring someone winning against the odds, and learning and re-learning the importance of listening.’

We have more than 80 volunteer mentors at present – either matched or about to be matched with scholars. Our sincere thanks to them for their commitment. Interested in becoming a mentor to someone in or leaving prison? Contact Veena at mentors@longfordtrust.org and watch our video about the value and impact of the mentoring relationship.

How the post-exam challenge of ‘what next?’ became do-able

Author: | 3 May 2023

A key part of a Longford Scholarship is the Employability support given to all award-holders to turn a degree into a degree-level job when they graduate.  For Longford Blog, our scholar Hugh describes the benefits of attending our recent all-day employability training session, run by the trust in partnership with StandOut.

A handful of us scholars met at Friends’ House in London on April 18.  Some of us have been buried in our final uni assignments but, as we emerge from those tunnels, it can feel a bit startling to be faced with the prospect of ‘what’s next?’ We’re all caught in the bit between university finishing and the rest of life beginning. The StandOut trainers were on hand to help us to clarify and quantify the steps we need to take to turn our grades into jobs.

Navigating Disclosure

Covering a cross-section of topics, Alex, Hannah and Erin introduced us to thinking about how to break down our next steps so we can feel confident bringing both our newly-acquired qualifications and our unorthodox life-experiences to the workplace.  We shared many anxieties with each other, such as: how to present as a confident candidate; how to navigate that, often tricky, topic of disclosure; and what is commonly the slog of mounting a concerted campaign of job-searching.

The latter can be deflating and long. So, understanding our internal relationship with how we might approach the jobs’ market was particularly useful. As we heard, treating the job search as a job in itself can help us in both pacing ourselves over a potentially lengthy task, and in structuring it to reduce that time as much as possible. We learned how effective it can be, for example, to really think about where we might look for vacancies we want – who the gatekeepers are of the graduate roles we might be seeking? It gave me a lot of confidence in rethinking my next moves.

Building connections

Considering it all took place on one day, we managed to cover so many useful topics. Networking, Alex explained, was better thought of as ‘building connections’. This meant that we would approach opportunities to do so with the right mindset. We were more likely to come across naturally – more honestly- if we started from a more human, and less transactional position. Thinking about how we might research specific sector knowledge would enable us to uncover connections we might have otherwise missed. Signing up to newsletters and other mailing subscriptions for important organisations in our chosen fields would give us the best chances of being exposed to opportunities.

Social capital

What was clear to those of us in the room is that the sort of inside information – distilled to us by the StandOut trainers- is often taken for granted by those who follow a ‘traditional’ trajectory through education and the early part of their vocational lives. When strong social structures support you through secondary school and you’re lucky enough to go to university and beyond, you get to learn the tricks and tips for finding more lucrative jobs.

For those of us who, maybe, took a different path, and had previously found themselves unsupported, it is often the case that this ‘social capital’ tends to allude us. The Longford Trust and StandOut were helping to even the playing field for those of us still trying to turn our lives around. Now we know about ‘the hidden market’, as our peers do. And we have the skills and valuable knowledge to bring to those industries too.

Realising our potential

Our group, as is indicative of a collective of Longford Scholars, had a wide variation in interests and talents. Some of us explicitly wanted to enter the Criminal Justice Sector as ‘lived-experts’- people who wanted to use their experiences (both the skills we have and the lessons from our own mistakes) as tools to help others in similarly difficult situations. Others wanted to pursue a life that had little to do with where they may have been before.

But in every case, our experiences had taught us some common things. We all understood the power and importance of giving people the opportunities to realise their value. The difference having the right, versus the wrong, information in going about our job searches was also realised in the group.

Bespoke job search support

In spite of covering so much in such a condensed time-slot, StandOut had also committed to supporting us going forward. We have all been booked in with a member of the team to discuss our individual plans and challenges in one-on-one sessions in the coming weeks. We’ll have the chance to set out a bespoke strategy for refining our job search.

The result is that I already feel like I’ve a better chance of finding something suitably challenging. But I knew, as I left the StandOut session, that there were many personal obstacles to simply jumping back into employment. Still I feel eager to work through those in the coming weeks and that’s down to the Longford Trust and StandOut. They make an outstanding collaboration. If you’re a scholar, I implore you to StandOut by booking yourself on the next course!

The next employability training course run by the Longford Trust and StandOut is being planned for the autumn. If you want to reserve a place, contact our Employability Manager.

Homelessness and prison: a personal experience of the perverse cycle

Author: | 5 Jun 2019

Homelessness and prison: Longford scholar Shaun looks at a personal experience of the perverse cycle

 

‘This is the best I can do.’

These were the words of my probation officer as she produced a tent and a sleeping bag at the end of my fourth prison sentence. Another taste of freedom after prison. To say I was gobsmacked is no exaggeration. I’d already accepted the harsh reality that once I left Her Majesty’s Pleasure I had nowhere to call home. But for a brief moment, I’d entertained the hope of three nights in a B& B while I looked for accommodation.

Sadly, those hopes were dashed. Camping it was.  Suddenly I typified the media horror stories – the ones any reasonable person doesn’t want to believe.  My make-do home was a tent.

Let me take you back to how this whole sorry cycle of prison and homelessness began for me.

Losing my home….

On my nineteenth birthday in October 2007 I found myself starting a two year prison sentence, the first of five visits to one of Her Majesty’s finest establishments.

Whilst on remand, waiting to be sentenced for that first time, I was told my rent would be paid but would continue only for a few months. After that point, I would lose my accommodation as the landlord sought possession of the property. Unless of course I had some money stashed away. I didn’t.

Realising I was due to become homeless, I sought help from the resettlement team to try and get re-housed on release. I was told to sit back and wait. There was nothing they could do for me until I reached the last three months of custody. Great, so now I was on edge worrying, with no idea where I’d live after prison! I held onto the hope that, at worst, I’d end up in a hostel. As a ‘high-risk offender’ (according to probation assessment) surely they’d prioritise me having somewhere to live – an address at least. If not somewhere to call ‘home, somewhere the authorities could check up on me.

What are my chances? ….

Sure enough, three months from my first release, the resettlement team helped me fill out multiple application forms for different hostels/housing providers. “What are the chances of me actually securing accommodation?”, I asked. Unlikely, came the answer, with so many applicants and limited spaces available. Almost impossible to get it in an area you are familiar with. Wow! That’s reassuring, I thought. Quite alarmed, I mentioned I was classed as a high-risk offender. “Does that increase my chances of securing accommodation?” I asked.

“You shouldn’t be released homeless. However, I’ve seen it happen frequently over the past few years,” she replied.

I’d better cross my fingers and hope for the best I thought!

Fast forward to my release date after that first sentence. You might expect, despite the worries about where I’d sleep, I’d be excited, eager to get going and get away from prison. I wasn’t, not at all. All I could think about was how I’d cope with life on the streets.

Turning to crime and alcohol ….

After one more fruitless attempt to get help on the same day I got out, my thoughts turned to crime. What kind of crime could I commit to land me a custodial sentence, something that wasn’t too heavy? That would get me a bed to sleep in, a roof over my head, just to get me through. May be next time inside I’d get lucky, get help with somewhere proper to live.

So, I’d be on the lookout for a ‘move’ (a burglary). I preferred a non-dwelling to a house. My reasoning was that no one needed to get hurt, I’d be in and out in the early hours and the business could claim the losses on insurance. Back then, that’s how I justified my behaviour. Of course, as I’ve come to realise, it didn’t matter if it was a business, who got hit or somebody’s home. There was always a victim.

With nowhere to live though, I didn’t really care about life. With a mere £46 discharge grant, my thoughts were, that if an opportunity arose to earn some money, illegally, I would almost certainly take it.

And so, the only other way I felt able to cope with being homeless, was alcohol. It enabled me to forget and escape reality. It gave me that ‘Dutch-courage’. Without it I’d never have the nerve to put a shop window through and clear it out sober! Drugs and alcohol made crime possible for me. Sorry to say, drinking and drug-taking became the norm every time I was released with nowhere to go. I was going around in circles.

Prison….

released to homelessness….

drinking for confidence to ‘do a move’…

back to prison.

 My last sentence proved pivotal….

February 2017, and the familiar three month mark before release had come round again. Walking around the yard speaking to fellow prisoners, all of us were experiencing the same thing time after time, being released homeless. Furious, they moaned about how the ‘crack heads’ get more help.

“The only way you get support is if you’re a gear head or pretend you’re getting beat by your missus,” one lad said to me.

Now, I never really thought about this before. I always ticked the boxes indicating that I required no support with drug and alcohol abuse when I came into custody. Well, it seemed I needed to change tack. With nothing to lose, I reached out to the drug and alcohol team in the prison.

I never considered myself a serious drug or alcohol user. My reasoning was, I drank and took drugs dependent on my environmental factors, such as whether I had a place to live or not. Without a home I couldn’t find focus or motivation whatsoever. This time I told the relevant services I was concerned about going back to a full-on life of crack, heroin, prescription pills and alcohol, that I simply had to reach out for help. I pleaded with them to help give me the best chance of staying clean outside of prison.

Well, within a month I had secured accommodation in a hostel for ex-offenders with drug and alcohol addictions to live a sober and crime-free life in the community.

Looking back, it’s sad I had to resort to lies and deceit to secure accommodation, potentially taking away a space from another individual who may have needed it more than me.

I believe having a place to call home has played a fundamental part in my reintegration  back into society. I’m now approaching 12 months crime-free in the community. I have faith, confidence, hope and an eager desire to move forward and make something of my life. I’m a Longford scholar scoring top marks in my degree. No way could I have done that on the streets. I couldn’t see past more than a day. Now, I see the future. I can plan, set and achieve goals.

I’ve made a personal change, now the system must change. If re-offending rates are to be reduced, then increasing support and services for housing offenders on release from custody must be improved drastically. Lives are wasted because of a simple lack of basic needs. How can it be that in the 21st Century in a First world country, some of our most troubled in society, all with potential and something to give, have no shelter to rest their heads at night? It just didn’t make sense. It still doesn’t!