Archive for June, 2009

A Pig Called Shrimp

Tuesday, June 30th, 2009

I realise that my year has been well and truly hijacked.  However I am pleased to say that I should be entering a calmer phase.  Yeah, yeah I know if have said that before and then dropped off the radar for a few months, but this time it is going to happen.

I took on a job which turned out to be the biggest crock of shit I have ever encountered.

The main job is till ongoing, but the danger for the client appears to be over and so now the others aspects are with lawyers and courts, so that is now NMP.

In addition to that job I had a few weeks away on a contract which was hard work and I will tell you about that later after the dust settles a bit, but I tell you one thing though, human greed never ceases to amaze me.

In between these trips I have been in and out of the UK and I have to say that the place is falling apart.

Maybe I am getting old, but the gap between how things are done in the places I work and the UK is getting smaller and smaller.

A few months ago I published a post at my bewilderment at how outraged MPs were at the fact that one of them should get his collar felt and his offices searched by PC Plod for handling and selling on stolen documents.  My view was and still is that these MPs forget that they are not above the law and should adhere to the same rules that apply to the rest of us.  The majority of the people who commented here did not agree with me, citing paliamentry privilge etc etc which is fair enough.  However In my absence I missed the big story breaking about the MPs expenses. I am a bit out of touch with the full ins and outs, but was tickled by one MP who saw nothing wrong with claiming for a mortgage he didn’t have.  Funny that because maybe I didn’t realise that Honourable members were not only immune from handling stolen goods but deception as well.  Just goes to show WTF I know.

Then I got a phone call.  I knew it was bad when L rang me on my work number to say she had had a message.  She never ever rings me when I am working and never ever on that number.  I got to the home asap, but it is a long flight and I was shit scared as to what I would find.  My fears were justified.  Joseph my little saviour was hanging in there but only just.

Its funny how you can be totally fucked but cannot sleep because…..I dont know but you know you can’t, just because.

I sat there and held his hand stroked his head and chatted to him for about 36 hours.   He seemed so frail and fragile, his eyes were shut but ever now and then  his lids would flicker and I was sure that his little mouth twitched as if to smile, but then it could just be the reaction to one of the hundreds of flies that kept landing on him.

All I could do was wait.

And wait.

And wait.

I am an optimist at heart and try to adhere tio the philosophy of never loose faith because it will always turn out for the best.  I had serious doubts.  I have seen so many children die in Africa from things we would not even conider life threatening, that I knew for a lad like Joseph the line between life and death is perilously thin and fragile.

I kept thinking any minute now he will start to rally round, but he didn’t he got worse and weaker and the life was ebbing out of him.

At about 3am I knew the end was near. I lay down next to him and put my arm around him and held his lifelss body next to me and started to tell hi the story of a pig called Shrimp.  It was my girls favourite story about a little pig called Shrimp and a ram with a shiny coat called Gabriel. Shrimp wants Gabriel to be his friend, but Gabriel is vain and not interested in friendship. He likes to spend time looking at his own reflection.   To cut the story short Shrimp becomes ill and Gabriel realizes that he misses the little pig.  Gabriel then gets animals to take bits of his coat to shrimp to keep him warm and the pig eventually gets better.  I got to the part where Gabriel had torn his beatiful coat by running into a thorn bush and then stopped.

I thought this was the time when there would be one last little breath and life would leave him.

I stroked his head and then kissed his forehead and felt so hopeless that I could do more for this brave little lad.

I thought of those lying thieving fuckers who ponce about Westminster so full of their own piss and importance fiddling their expenses and getting rich on the back of us and I was angry.

Really angry and I don’t do angry normally, mildly vexed yes, but not angry.

“Why have stopped the story” the weak little voice was like a shout, a bellow, a roar.  I sat up with a start my heart racing.

“Jospeh?” I asked

“Yes ” he said weakly and a little bewildered

“How are you feeling?” I said rather stupidly but because I was so shocked that I couldn’t think of anything else to say.

He gave me a gummy smile and said “As you said when we first met,  I’ve been better thanks, but I am not ready for off just yet”

I held his face in my hands “You cheeky little swine” and kissed him.

He smiled up at me and in his eyes the warmth and love of a little  boy filled me with new hope and optimism and then he said something which touched me more than I can tell you, but if you don’t mind I will keep that little treasure a secret, it is a bond between a man a boy and a pig called Shrimp.

Thank you giving him back