Tony and Vicki Harris have been on a journey that would change their lives, seeing Tony give away all their money and most of his clothes. It would lead them to start a community, not just a food bank, in Gravesend that would feed up to 50 people, six nights a week, during the height of the pandemic.
“I was working, on a good wage, and I said, I’m going to stand in town and give everything away…”
The Day that Changed their Lives
I sit with them in their home, surrounded by the evidence of the project they run, to hear their story. It was Vicki’s birthday in 2019; she and her husband, Tony, drove into Gravesend. Tony was looking for Vlad, a Russian he’d met on the street, who was sleeping rough in the town.
Tony had promised Vicki he wouldn’t invite Vlad back to their house until they knew more about him. “But when he found Vlad, he wasn’t looking good”, Tony says. “I just wanted to give him some comfort.”
Although in middle age, Tony hasn’t developed the soft, round edges that many of us have. There are no signs of the easy life of a pampered grandfather. He has the look of a man who’s worked hard and maybe lived hard along the way, too. But knowing Tony as I do now, I understand that he cares deeply, too much for his own peace of mind, and I have a suspicion of how the encounter with Vlad will end.
Vlad and Tony talk for a while when Vlad rolls onto one side and says, “I just wish I could get some comfort“. Those eight words trigger the moment that is to change Tony and Vicki’s lives. Vlad won’t be the last homeless person to stay with the Harrises..
Prompted by his meeting with Vlad, Tony starts The Table. He and his son set up a table and chairs in the town centre and serve what he described as a “picnic for the homeless.” In reality, anyone was welcome. Twice a week, visitors to The Table would sit and eat together; over time, a community developed.
Gravesham is not a wealthy place, but it’s far from the poorest in the UK. The Government publishes an Index of Deprivation*, which is a depressing indication in itself. It ranks all the boroughs in England on a range of measures.
Like most boroughs, some areas of Gravesend are more affluent than others. But as a whole, we sit somewhere in the top third, with number one being the most deprived – so, maybe that should be the bottom third.
Tony will take no credit for any of the difference that The Table has made or for the community that has developed. More than once, he’s said, “It’s not like I’ve done anything. I was here, and the people came to me.” He has a faith and a strength like no one I’ve met. In his eyes, he is doing what God has told him to do.
When I ask him about the groups that refuse to help the people who are obviously under the influence of drink or drugs, he has no hesitation: “To me, the way I look at it, if I’m going out to help people who are on drugs and drink, I’ve got to expect them to have taken drugs and had drink. Nobody is excluded.”
“It doesn’t matter what state you’re in. Jesus didn’t say, sort yourself out, and you can come in. That’s what I tried to do differently.”
I can see both sides. During my visits, I saw a few people who were a little too unpredictable from being under the influence. But a meeting outside, surrounded by people you know would intervene in the event of trouble, feels a lot safer than inviting the same person into a night hostel.
The first few weeks of The Table were difficult for Tony and Vicki. They weren’t sure what they were doing, and then Tony lost his job. With it went their main source of income. They admit it caused a few arguments.
Tony says: “I was working, on a good wage, and I said, I’m going to stand in town and give everything away. I gave all my clothes away to start with.” All the clothes he’s wearing as we talk have been donated. “If someone needed trousers and I had three pairs, I’d give them a pair. I gave my trainers away, everything. Even my underwear is donated.” He smiles.
Vicki says, “At first, I thought he was mad. It was good that he was helping people, but he was giving our money away. I said to him, ‘It’s not like you’re getting any younger; you need to slow down. You need to put your own health before this’.”
They decided it wouldn’t be safe to eat together, even outdoors, as they had been doing, so they switched to a takeaway service. A local Sikh charity provided food one night a week, but that still left six nights to fill.
Tony arranged for a group of twelve volunteer cooks to provide meals on a rota, six nights per week. The Harrises’ small home quickly filled with supplies. There were five large freezers in their spare bedroom and food stacked around the house. Their electricity bill went through the roof, just as things were getting tight.
Somehow they got through that time, and life gradually returned to something close to normal. Tony describes it as an ‘exhausting whirlwind ride’. As they describe that time, I can see it still tells on both of them.
A Cup of Tea and a Biscuit
I reflect on the months I spent with the people who meet around The Table, and I realise it had changed my perspective on where I live. We’re often quick to judge others we think are below us on the social pecking order.
But when you share a cup of tea and a digestive with a young man from Afghanistan who’s seen more in his short life than I’ll ever see in yours, or try to help an older man with an Amazon application for a job you know he’s unlikely to get, you look for the similarities more than the differences.
I know that I wouldn’t be prepared to put my life on hold for two years as Vicki and Tony did. Tony went so far as to delay important medical treatment because he ‘didn’t have the time’.
Also, in a time of crisis, the role of the state is vital. Still, while so many of us sat in our gardens waiting for the supermarket delivery, others were possibly risking their lives to look after those they’d never met.
Fortunately, things have calmed down a lot. The Table now offers a takeaway service only on Monday nights. It’s still a lot of work, but it’s manageable.
Tony’s long-term ambition would be to open a drop-in centre in the town. Somewhere anyone can call in, meet others, share a cup of tea and get that ‘little bit of comfort’ we all need at times.
You can contact The Table through their Facebook page. I know they would appreciate the support.
I have a larger gallery of images from my time at The Table. I’ll upload those and link to them here shortly.
* The English Indices of Deprivation 2025
Since the 1970s, the UK Ministry of Housing, Communities and Local Government has calculated local measures of deprivation in England. The latest figures were published in 2025.
Gravesend includes areas in the top 10% and the lowest 10% of deprivation.
In 2025, the Jaywick & St Osyth area of Clacton-on-Sea was the most deprived in the country. Seven neighbourhoods in Blackpool rank among the 10 most deprived in England.
