‘Dickens’ resources
It is late afternoon in London, the air cool and the streets already cloaked in evening shadows. The Royal Opera House area feels quiet, with people lingering in a beloved cafe, reading, typing on laptops, or simply sitting in contemplative stillness. The day carries no special event, and if anyone is there, it is not out of a love for the arts alone.
A luxury building within Covent Garden sits near the grand space of opera and ballet, a site steeped in 290 years of culture. Across the UK, thousands of heated benches and public spaces are open to the public. The spiraling costs of daily life and a sharp rise in energy bills—nearly 80% in October—have nudged authorities to open places where people can keep warm and access free Wi‑Fi without spending money or using energy at home.
‘Dickens’ resources
Since last July, a journalist and finance expert has floated the idea of heat banks, akin to food banks, where those struggling to stay warm can spend the day. The notion drew attention on social media, as calls grew for extraordinary measures this winter. Earlier, Bristol’s mayor hinted that unusual solutions would be necessary to support residents through colder months.
It might feel like a city at the brink of a quiet, ongoing crisis. Yet communities are rallying to create heated spaces where people can go when the weather turns harsh. The concept of Dickensian hardship has resurfaced in public discourse, even as the country’s wealth concentrates in modern, gleaming districts. New heat banks are appearing nationwide.
Libraries, churches, cultural centers, and neighborhood associations have opened their doors. Some keep the doors open all day, others offer limited hours. More than half of English and Welsh councils have supported the effort. Warm Welcome, a key proponent of the campaign, reported hundreds of such spaces in October, and by the eve of the Christmas season, the number had surged into the thousands. In Ipswich, Gainsborough Library and many parishes offer complimentary coffee and tea. In Reading, one heat bank occupies a converted old bar.
Soup to warm you up
Nutrition Center, a community hub in West London, opens from noon on weekdays. Its large, well-heated room hosts long tables and a bustling kitchen in the back. Operated by a charity focused on affordable, wholesome meals, it offers a simple menu this week: Lentil soup, carrot soup, or baked vegetables with mozzarella. The price is five pounds, or free for those who cannot pay.
About twenty customers sit quietly, most alone, in a neighborhood where vast wealth sits just a couple of bus stops away from more precarious surroundings. Cooking classes are offered on site and cookbooks line the shelves. The space now functions as a heat bank, inviting neighbors to gather, eat, and connect through shared warmth.
Lots of Elsies
National statistics reveal a troubling trend: a notable portion of the population is unable to heat homes adequately, with anxiety about food rising in tandem. For some, working from home without heat, or facing unemployment with little food, poses risks to both physical and mental health. Demand at food banks has grown, even as wage struggles intensify.
A year ago, a 77-year-old retiree named Elsie travelled by bus for days to stay warm, unable to cover rising heating costs even with free travel. Her monthly bill rose from seventeen to eighty-five pounds. For many, that kind of bill remains out of reach, turning the simple act of keeping warm into a daily challenge.