Sunny Sky - Explanation.

12/11/2009 by Uncle.

Thank you to everyone for their wishes and kind comments and email.

I am very pleased to say I am back on the mend and that the work of the physioterrorists is going well.

I wont bore you with the full medical side of things of what got damaged and what went wrong, suffice to say I live to ride another day.

I would not be able to go into the full ins and outs of what happened until the inquest and any other legal proceedings are concluded, but suffice to say that it is an occupational hazard and these things happen.

What I wanted to do was share with you the rather surreal experience I went through having been shot in the chest and the experience of being semi concious.

I am very grateful to the young man who came to my assistance and whose rapid application of a plastic shopping bag and duct tape to my chest wound went a long way to saving my life.

I am also very grateful to the young nurse who brought in her beloved Ipod so might total stranger might listen to some English music.   She thought ti would help me in my comatosed state.  It transpires she is very keen on line dancing (or country as they call it there) and hence all the country music.  She showed me some of her dances and I have to say she was a very slinky little  mover and it was a bugger about the hole in my chest, tubes and drips preventing me really appreciating her performance.

I have to say that what really puzzles me is why the Charlie Winston song popped into my head.  I had never knowingly heard it before and it has taken a great deal of searching by a very good friend of mine beofre we even identified the song and artist.

I have listened to that and to the Johnny Cash version of Desperado and both songs make the hairs stand up on the back of my neck.

Yesterday was the first day I was able to go out really unaided and I went to the local remembrance service.  There seemed to have been some confusion and the local mayor assumed I had been shot whilst on Active service for HMG.  I was received with great affection by those in my commune and I was surprised and touched that there was a bouquet of flowers to be placed at the local war memorial for British troops who had died not just in France but more recently.  There was a card which roughly translated means for “The young English men who died during the great wars in France for France and are now dying so far away to help make the world a better place”.

 

Posted in Uncategorised | 5 Comments »

Sunny Sky - continued

22/10/2009 by Uncle.

There is a young woman looking at me, early to mid twenties.  She is saying something but I don’t know what, partly because I cant  hear and partly because I just don’t understand or care.

I can hear “la Legion” but again I do not really hear what is being said.  I see his face, he knows its not good, I know its not good and the flecks of blood on him tells no lies.

I sort of faint or pass out then swirl back with a wosh.

I cant breath, it is like my chest is on fire and somebody has dumped a hot iron on it or in it.

She looks frightened but is concentrating.  I see her hands, no gloves but covered in blood.

They are doing something to me but all I know is that I cant breathe and am drowning on my own blood. and it  hurts like fuck.

The sky is still sunny and blue, but the birds have gone.

Darkness, total black,  but irons of pain pierce the darkness with a searing white light.

Electric lights I am looking at a white ceiling and am being wheeled along a corridor and there is a lot of commotion.

Blank.

WHITE LIGHT faces with surgical masks.  Voices, very business like, but I have heard the sense of urgency when dealing with others.

I have made it this far then I am with a good shot. Haha very funny!

Blackness engulfs me totally and everything is suspended.

Nothing.

I hear music. I thinks its music.  It sort of fades in and out either turn it up or turn it off.

The music is back again, but a bit louder, but still not loud enough to hear what it is.

Its really odd because everything is like a dream and dark yet I know I am sleeping and waking up, but just not as we normally do, or at least I think thats right.

I can hear the music now, thye must have turned it up at last.

Actually its bloody country music or at least thats what it sounds like.

I am not a fan of country music and I want to open my eyes and tell them to knock of the friggin Nashville, but I just cant wake up and it is just too much effort and I drfit off again on my little airbed.

I can see sort of dappled light and hear people talking, but I can hear what they are saying because it like being at the swimming pool, all the sounds merge.

Darkness creeps in and I slip away into nothing again.

I am tired I want to roll over and go to sleep, but I cant move.  I hear more voices and vaguely see the faces of people I know and love.  I feel all warm and cosy and then it seems as if I am getting colder very slowly.  Gradually slipping from warm and comfortably numb to very cold, tired and weary.WHITE LIGHT commotion, voices, cant hear properly,  blurred images then…

Black.

Music again, more bloody country. Great just what I need friggin John Denver “Country Roads take me home to the Place where I belong, West Virgina fahlalalahhhhh take me home…..” actually I quite like this song and start to sing along…sort of.

WHITE LIGHT voices FLASH OF LIGHTENING. Red, blues, green, streaks of purple I hear voices but they make no sense.

What the fuck is going on, why cant I open my eyes?

I think I am awake It is dark but I see a light on the wall.  I must be drugged, is that Scooby Doo I can see on that wall?  It was I am sure, Now there is a galleon sailing down a street in New York.

PAIN-WOW- FUCK ME THAT HURTS -then a warm feeling sweeping through me.  I am feeling warmer and more comfortable and Scooby and the gang are slipping away the images fade and I fall into the blackness again.

More music much clearer this time”Having a good time, ….something or other……shot of tequila beer on draught….something or other Having a good time”  He might be having a good time, but I dont feel so good, my back hurts my head hurts, even my dear old chap hurts.

I have no idea of time, in fact there is no time, there is just being.

Suspended animation it is a blank.

I am back at the swimming pool again.  Coming up from the bottom I can see light and images, but they are all broken up and refracted, but there are colours.  The funny thing is that I am aware that I am breathing.

How can I breathe under water I’ll drown?

I feel myself start to panic a bit and then tell myself to get a grip.  I am not in water,  it just feels like water, stay calm Norm, don’t make a problem until it is one.

I am aware that I am thinking full thoughts, not fragments or dreams

I calm down and I am aware of the steady rhythm of my breathing. The gentle movement of my chest.

The music continues, most of the tunes I dont know.  Every now and then there is something that I know, but not much and it is better than nothing.  Just.

No pain, I am not drowning on blood any more, but I have that distinctive matalic taste of blood in my mouth.

Christ I have one hell of a headache.  Feels like someone locked my head in a vice.

My eyes  hurt and I can see sunlight.

There is always music and I know now that I must have heard this stuff over and over.

I hear  a guitar the music is clearer

“Desperado” Its a voice I know but cant place.

“Why don’t you come to your senses
You’ve been out ridin’ fences,
for so long - now.”

Its bloody Johnny Cash, just what I need, if I dislike John Denver I cant tell you how I feel about the man in Black.

But there is something about the the voice the way and speed with which he sing (if thats the right word) and the words.  I can’t quite tell you why or what,but something in me or my head clicks.

“Ohh you’re a hard one
I know that you’ve got your reasons.
These things that are pleasin’you
Can hurt you somehow.”

I want to cry. I cannot stop it and I feel tears running down my cheeks.

Hot tears that run down my cheeks towards my pillow and into my ears. It tickles and I realise I can feel, this is real it is not a dream from the blackness.

A hand wipes my face. I felt that, a hand these are real sensations.

It seems as if Johnny is speaking to me and making every word count.

“Desperado,
Ohhhh you aint getting no younger.
Your pain and your hunger,
They’re driving you home.
And freedom, ohh freedom.
Well that’s just some people talking.
Your prison is walking through this world all alone.”

“Mister Norman, can you hear me Mister Norman” Its a woman’s voice heavy accent, but  it seems to go in and out of focus, but Mr Cash stays clear as a bell.

“Desperado,
Why don’t you come to your senses?
come down from your fences, open the gate.
It may be rainin’, but there’s a rainbow above you.
You better let somebody love you.
(let somebody love you)
You better let somebody love you…ohhh..hooo
before it’s too..oooo.. late.”

I open my eyes, well I must have done because I can see.

Everything suddenly becomes crystal clear and there is a beautiful  olive skinned girl with lovely  brown eyes and jet black hair looking at me.  I focus and realise she is a nurse.  She is smiling and there is another man in a white coat - they are coming to take me away hehehaha.

Then I see two more faces its L and the MIL.  They smile at me, but to be honest they dont look so hot, sort of tired and upset.

L comes to the bed and kisses me on the lips “Hello Norm”

I smile or gave a grimace that was supposed to be a smile.  The MILl kisses me on the forehead and taps my cheek gently and says something witty about there being easier ways of avoiding birthdays.

The Desperado has come down from the fences and opened the gate.
It may have been rainin’, but there’s a rainbow above me.
I better let somebody love me.
before it’s too late.

If you would like to hear the version of Desperado by Johnny Cash please click here.

Posted in Uncategorised | 4 Comments »

Sunny Sky

15/10/2009 by Uncle.

I am suddenly  looking up the sky, It is very blue not a cloud in the blazing sunshine.

Bloody hell there are lots of birds up there.

Spinning round I see, I see what, a girl.

My right hand is moving out in front of me

Everything is quiet and still, in fact it is more than that, it is silent.

More birds in the sky I wonder why they came from.

There is a flash of intense white light like a photo flash.

The flowers in the window box are really red, probably geraniums, I cant tell from here.

The old man sitting outside the café has a really brown leathery lined face, we make eye contact.

Dust, there is a lot of dust, I can see the dust around me and the old man is looking at me and is getting up from his chair.

His shoes could do with a bit of a clean.

The ground is hard and parched and there are bright red geranium petals in the dust.

Why would there be geranium petals here, fucked if I know.

 I can feel the sun on my face but it is not hot.

 I see more red petals.

 I can hear hissing.

 I see a mans face maybe thirty years old, his hair is cropped like mine his face is brown and thin but strong and his eyes are brown and serious.

What are all those people doing, what are they looking at? I can see feet and legs

God I feel tired maybe I could just shut my eyes now and drift off.

The man with the face is pulling at me and I know he is speaking but I can quite get what he is saying. He has strong hands

“La Legion”

 He is gone now

I can see my girls faces and Joseph all smiling and happy, I can feel warmth, no actually its not warmth, it’s a mix of extreme heat or is it cold very cold.

Somebody is saying something, is that someone calling me?

Yes they are calling me, I suppose I better say something, don’t want to be rude, but my throat is blocked and my nose clogged, must be getting a cold.

I clear my throat there are no geranium petals, just a froth of bright sticky frothy red.

La legion is holding me and I can feel his hands.

I open my eye and see another group of people just don the road gathered round something on the floor.

La legion is talking

I feel…… I feel what?

I don’t know what,

I feel like I am floating away out to sea on an airbed or something.

It’s very quiet.

Very calm.

 

I See nothing

Black

There is a voice, somebody calling me.

 

Posted in Uncategorised | 4 Comments »

Spain 10

08/08/2009 by Uncle.

It took a fair bit of searching of the house to find Sandy’s passport but it was in one of peoples favourite hiding places - a shoe, to be more accurate, one of his shoes.

 

We gathered up her things, but there wasn’t much and then shut the door and headed back to Sofia.  Cyclops had confirmed we were booked on a flight back to the UK the next day with a connection to Spain the same evening.  Mum and dad said they would pay us for the flights - when they could.

 

So it was that we headed back to Sofia.  Sandy was good company and had it not been for our little chat earlier you would have been hard pushed to know anything was wrong.  She laughed out loud and joked and chatted away.   However if you listened and watched you could see this banter was superficial and that she was clearly a very unhappy young woman with some serious mental health problems.  I suppose if somebody has a broken leg you see the plaster cast and you can see somebody is hurt, but the problem with mental health issues is that the don’t bleed or swell and you cant just throw a few stitches in or bung a blaster over it.  Half the time most people don even know they are sick themselves.

 

I went back to the same hotel, because it has excellent amenities and to do some more damage to my own brain with a few more glasses of No Mans land red wine.  The receptionist recognised me and gave me a “knowing” look when she saw Sandy and an even more quizzical look when I booked two rooms.

 

The evening passed pleasantly enough, but my new companion did get a bit of a loose tongue after a couple of glasses of wine.  Not gobby or Leary just more verbal diarrhoea.  As the evening progressed she told fewer crap jokes and laughed less hysterically and slowly started telling me about how even as a little girl she would be enveloped in a black cloud of misery and how the people around her used to think she was just a misery guts, not someone with serious problems. 

 

She told me how in order to be liked she developed an outer shell and played the clown.  She was desperate to be popular and liked, whilst beneath this veneer she was desperately unhappy. 

 

The sad thing was that I got the impression that she probably was naturally funny with a good sense of humour and a very kind nature, but she just couldn’t see it or touch it herself. By the end of the meal she was becoming amorous and flirtatious and  it was time to call it a night.  I didn’t have any problems making her see this was not a good idea and she suddenly remembered Nigel and sobered up just like that and got very serious and worried that I would tell him.  In fact it was more than just worry, it was fear and the way she kept touching her cheek made me thank that our Nige gave her a bit of a slap now and then.

 

The flight was fairly early so we didn’t hang around any longer than we needed to.  Sandy was a little under the weather, not hung over just subdued and I put it down to drink and pills. 

 

I was my usual exhilarating company on the flight and I woke up about 10 minutes or s before were due to land to find her nibs slumped on my shoulder snoring and dribbling gently.  I said nothing as it is my experience that women do not like being told they snore or that they dribble. 

As per normal good old Cyclops had made good arrangements which meant that we had a margin of time between flights so that we were not cutting it o fine, but by the same token we were not hanging around the airport for to long either.  Just enough to grab a fat boys breakfast and a decent pot of earl grey.

 

The flight to Spain was like any other flight and I was feeling fairly weary by the time we landed.  We got through passport control and all that malarkey and I became aware that my travel companion was not with me.  I retraced my route and found her sitting on a plastic chair looking at the floor in front of her.  I went over to her andtouched her lightly on the shoulder and she looked up.  I was not prepared for the look on her face.  She was totally devoid of colour and looked like a corpse, her brow was wet with sweat and her hair stuck to it as if she had been swimming.  Her eyes were wide and frightened and she was shaking.

 

“Sandy What is it?” she said nothing I asked her again and she slowly looked up at me.

 

“I am a bad person, I make people unhappy and cross” she said in a hoarse quiet voice “I am not pretty or funny like other girls”

 

“Come on chicken that’s not true, you are funny and pretty and it is a shame that you can’t see it, but I can and other people can and I know your mum and dad will be delighted to see you”

 

“No they wont they will be sad to see me, they never tried to get in touch with me or anything”

 

“Hold on a mo missus thats not true they did not know where to find you and all their efforts to getb hiold of you have been blocked by Nigel, who do you think has paid for you to get home, who do you think is paying me and I can tell you I am not cheap”

 

“They aren’t rich they couldn’t afford that” she said looking at me

 

“They have done whateve it took to find you and get you back to them”

 

“Are you sure?” she said and you could her the doubt in her voice

 

“Of course I’m bloody sure” I said a little harshly “what the hell do you think I was doing half way across bloody Bulgaria then flying back to Britain and then to Spain, this is not my idea of a bloody laugh you know, or do you think I am doing this for the good of my health?”

 

She looked at me and thought for a second “No I suppose not” He eyes were darting all over the place as she ran the sequence of events through her head.

 

“But what about Nigel” she said hesitantly

 

“Fuck Nigel” I said not thinking

 

“On I do and ……” I managed to interrupt her list of services

 

“No you dopey mare I meant who cares about Nigel and what he thinks and not anything else, I will deal with him”

 

“He is very strong and very hard” she said with a worried look.  I hoped we had moved on and that she was talking about his temperament and was not referring to his sexual prowess.

 

“I’ll take my chance on that one” I said “I am very persuasive when I want to be”

 

She smiled weakly.  I took her gently by the arm and she stood up

 

“Come on your mum will be waiting and is dying to see you”

 

She started to walk and then took hold of my hand the nearer to the exit and meet and greet the harder she gripped it. Her breathing was fast and shallow and I could feel the perspiration.  Five metres from the exit she was sweating and I could feel a shake. I lengthened my stride and Sandy hesitated for an instant but I let go of her hand and gripped her arm just above the elbow hard enough to jolt her into action and immediately she quickened her pace to stay up with me.  I smiled broadly at the miserable looking Spanish security man right by the door, who to my shock smiled a big beam back at me and wished me good afternoon.

 

We were through the doors and into the public area. 

 

Where the fuck were her mum and dad because I could feel fear and god knows what else running through this girl like she was being electrocuted and knew she was going to loose it.  I know this sounds selfish, but I did not want to just get through security an customs and then to have a young woman yabbering and loosing the plot.  It looks bad and although it might be entirely innocent senior plod would be on to us like el rasho

 

 Then I saw them pushing their way past people and then running towards us.  Mum was crying and had her arms out and dad was doing his best to keep it together. 

 

They embraced their little girl and cried and stroked her hair and kissed her face like she was a new born baby.  I let go of Sandy’s hand and stepped away to leave them.  They stood in a huddle attracting looks from people who did not understand, but they didn’t see or care and why should they.

 

I looked back and saw Sandy with her arms around and her mum and her head on her shoulder. She looked towards me and smiled and gave a little wave.

 

I wish I could tell you it that it was a happy smile and wave, but it wasn’t, it was a sad, lost, thin smile.  I turned and headed for the hire car desk as I wanted to find good old Nigel and look at a few things.

 

FOOT NOTE

 

I don’t usually let these things get to me that much and although it was quite a while aago, I can still see that scene in my head.  It is hard to describe, but that smile was so lost, and so painfully haunting that it pierced my heart like a dagger of ice.  It is something I wish I hadn’t seen, but by the same token it reinforces my belief in just how lucky most of us are and in particular how lucky I am and for that I am most grateful.

 

Just recently I heard a song on the radio in France by Pascale Picard –called “Smiling”  What is really strange is that this could have been taken from a taped transcript of my conversation with Sandy as it is almost word for word what she said.

 

I am not gonna make it

I can see the crowd around me

Is getting bigger and as it is

I’m trying to figure out

Why I feel so isolated

I have my friends

But don’t have much time for them

I have my house

And a tiny pocket in my luggage

I have my boyfriend

But he’s also so tired of listening to me

Every single day

Seems like a mountain to climb

Every single word

It takes all my strength to get it out

I’m tired of talking about me

But in fact it’s the only thing

I get a grip on

I feel like I’m not gonna make it

I really feel like I’m not gonna make it

But it might be the best thing

That never happened to me, so now

 

Hey little girl keep on smiling!!

‘Cause they don’t wanna hear you complaining

You’re a lucky girl

Your life is so exciting

So I’ll keep on making bad jokes

‘Cause you think I’m strong

And it might be the way you like it

Oh how I need you to like me…

 

I have tried as hard as I can

I have tried to go through 9 to 5

But I was like a train

Between work and bars

Never found out what I was traveling for

Now I have my car

But I ain’t got no safe place to go

I still hold my drink

But I’m not as thirsty as before

I have my voice

But I heard lately that people

Don’t want to hear sad songs

Every single place

It’s all the same to me

Every single face

I know it will be replaced

But another smiley one

Who will also be left soon

Somewhere behind

I feel like I’m not gonna make it

I really feel like I’m not gonna make it

But it might be the best thing

That never happened to me, so now

 

Hey little girl keep on smiling!!

‘Cause they don’t wanna hear you complaining

You’re a lucky girl

Your life is so exciting

So I’ll keep on making bad jokes

‘Cause you think I’m strong

And it might be the way you like it

Oh how I need you to like me…

 

Please now just don’t count on me

I can’t handle it anymore

And don’t ask me why

If you don’t want me to lie

But don’t be alarmed

Don’t you see that I’m just down

Just don’t worry soon

I’ll be back on the tracks

 

Smiling!!

‘Cause I’ll get tired of complaining

I’m a lucky girl

And I’m doing exactly what I wanted

So I’ll keep on making bad jokes

‘Cause I need to be strong

And it might be my only chance to get out of it

And now I really need to make it!!

 

 

Posted in Uncategorised | 4 Comments »

Catching Up

23/07/2009 by Uncle.

How much decorating is one man supposed to do?

I had not realised that my domestic to do list was so long, but Jeez it is mega plus I have the neices and nephews coming for their holiday and I have a few (loads) of activities planned.

Whilst I was away I thought I would have a few nice leisurely mornings, get on with the Spain story, do a bit of training and just let the damaged bits repair a bit.  Instead I have been getting up at 6am and hobbling about until I get stuck in to the jobs  by 7am.  I manage about half an hour for some grub at noon and knock off at 7.30pm.

Plus I still have bits to deal with and type up on the job we have been dealing with.   I am also catching up on the half dozen blogs I read.  If I dont comment it’s just because I dont want to get side tracked.

The next part of the Spain story will be up in the next day or so and you never know I might get the whole thing finished by Christmas.

Posted in Uncategorised | 5 Comments »

Acting the Goat

15/07/2009 by Uncle.

I am pleased to say that Joseph has made a good recovery.  Before I left we were out for a walk and after about half an hour stopped at a hole in the wall which is an African shop, often in the middle of no where selling all sorts of stuff from maize flour to god knows what else, but they all stock Coca Cola and more often than not Fanta Orange, so I had a coke the lad had a Fanta.

These places are a bit like a local pub and are a meeting spot for people and there were quite a few people hanging around chewing the cud.

We sat on the ground under the shade of a big tree to have our drink whilst a bad tempered and very smelly goat kept pestering us.  In the end this bad tempered Norm punched the goat on the nose and he buggered off and left us alone.

We chatted about this and that as you do and I commented that it was a hot day and Jospeh looked at me open mouthed and then started to laugh.  He laughed till the tears ran down his face.

“Ok then Gunga Din what’s so bloody funny”

“You”

“Why?”

More laughter his eyes open wide and his flashy dentures gleaming in the sun.

“This is Africa, it is always hot”

I could see his point, but I couldn’t see what was so hilarious.

“Why is that so funny?”

“Because it is” he said eventually “Father can I ask you Why do you white people always have to have a reason for everything?”

“How do you mean?”

“Nobody ever seems to be able to understand that some things are because they are and that’s just the way of things. ” He shook his head “They always have to understand more or try to have a reason for something, I don’t understand” He said shaking his little head.

“You all worry too much” he said and nodded in agreement with himself.

I sat there sipping my coke and thought about this and could see his point. I felt a faint warm breeze tickle the back of my neck and I decided to change the conversation

“You seem very much better now”

“Oh yes I am thank you very much.  I was very happy to see you when I woke up, I knew you would come and I was very happy.”

“You gave me a fright there young man”

He frowned “I am sorry I did not mean to frighten you, I was just sick”

“You were more than just sick you were dying” I reminded him

“Yes but it was me that was sick not you, and it would have been me that died not you, so why were you frightened”

“Because… ”

“Because you worry too much, that is why” He gave a big cheerful almost mischievous grin and I felt the breeze on my neck again ” if I die I go to heaven and see God.  Even if you do not believe in God, we must all die sometime, so worrying about it is silly.  It is not a question of if we die but when, why worry about something you cannot change when there are lots of things that you can change” He paused for a brief second and then his eyes opened and he started to laugh and said “Like stopping that old goat behind you eating the collar of your shirt”

Posted in Uncategorised | 7 Comments »

A Pig Called Shrimp

30/06/2009 by Uncle.

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

Posted in Uncategorised | 6 Comments »

The Problem with Blogging

07/05/2009 by Uncle.

The problem with blogging is that work interferes.

I thought my move to France would see me slipping into those shoulder shrugging Galic way, but alas alors it has not been the case.

I am away again tomorrow for a few days and then back at the start of next week.

In the meantime afew random photos that you may like to see.

” Shut up moaning, you asked for a flatish surface to land on and we found one.  It’s not our poxy fault you didn’t say what  size”

 ”Any one fancy a ruby and couple of Cobras”

  Childs play

Posted in Uncategorised | 1 Comment »

Spain 9

24/03/2009 by Uncle.

There are two type of dog in Bulgaria.  Dead ones and ones that bark constantly.  I prefer the first type.  Thus it was that I was woken every 15 minutes from my slumbers by some canine bastard baying at sod at all.

I was not a happy chap by the time I went for breakfast.  It was good nosh and I felt better having eaten.  I decided to surprise Mr Atkins and went tout to his village unannounced.  It did not look any better in daylight.  The village square was still grim, but the building where I had seen the UK van was more lively and there were loads of kids running about in the cold foggy morning.  Must have been playtime.

I found Atkins house and it was an odd affair.  Bulgarian structure with sort of Spanish features like arch windows and wrought iron and stuff.  Sitting on the drive was a bloody great Hummer with US plates.  Discreet and practical bearing in mind the roads.  Actually don’t tell the yanks, but they aren’t very good.  Far better with a Range Rover or any Land Rover for that matter.

I opened the metal gates and went in to the garden, it could have been the garden of a new build housing estate in the UK.  I knocked on the door.  Nothing.  Knocked again and shouted “Hello” and eventually I saw the curtains upstairs twitch and woman looked out and gestured with her hand.

She was later twenties and looked as if she had had a rough night.  I apologised for waking her and we exchanged pleasantries.  To cut a along story short  Atkins was not in as he had gone back to Spain urgently and he was not going to be back until when ever.

She invited me in for a cup of tea.  The house was Ok in side but a bit cheerless.  It was am ix between English, Spanish and French and a bit \confused.  The girl was called Sandy and she was pleasant enough.  Turned out Atkins and she were sort of engaged.  Met in Spain and he had decided to leave Spain and get in to Bulgaria before the others.  Had done OK in Spain in the past but things were going down the pan.  Her dad was a builder and her parents lived over in Spain worked for Atkins in some way.

I asked about Tom and she said she knew him, in fact her dad had done some work for them.

“Small world” says me.

“No, Nigel (Atkins) had sorted out the alterations and building work for them”

“Had he?”

“Oh yes, he sold them the house”

“In Spain?”

“Yes he was the agent.”

“Are you sure”

“Of course I am sure, I used to run his office, I was his secretary and PA.”

“Oh I see Any chance you could ring him,”

“No we don’t have a telephone here and I don’t have any credit on my mobile”

“Maybe you should go and get some”

“No I cant, I will have to wait till Nigel gets back as I don’t have any fuel in my car and Nigel takes the keys for his car when he goes away”

“Right” I said hesitantly not quite getting the reason for this last bit of info

“I cant get my car out becasue the Hummer is blocking the drive, so I cant get in to town eve if I had petrol”

” In other words you are hold up in a house in the middle of nowhere with no way of communicating with the outside world and no way of getting to a doctor or contacting the emergency services in the event of somehting goung wrong?”

“Oh its not like that” she said happily

“Well what is it like then?” I asked “Because from where I am stood it all sounds very odd”

The short answer to that question was Mr Atkins had been married five times and each of his five wives had left him for one of his friends.  This time he had moved to a place where he had no friends and to make extra sure he locked his fiancé up with no phone, or fuel to get out and meet anyone.  What got me was she seemed OK with this arrangement although the more I talked to her the more spaced out she seemed.  In fact she really wasn’t the full ticket.

I made small talk and mentioned the school down the road only to be told it was an orphanage not a school.

“Its a really shame” said Sandy those kids are all on their own in the world, most are just abandoned and nbosy cares for them.  The Orphanage isn’t very nice, more like an army camp than a place for kiddies.  Nigel does lots of things for them though and gets bits brought over from Spain”

“Like what?”

She shrugged “Dunno, bits and things, but he has found jobs for some of the older kids so they get on their feet and he has even  helped younger ones get adopted”

Now then I don’t know much about the adoption process, but I couldn’t see how a five times married estate agent from Spain could be arranging adoption for abandoned Bulgarian kids nor could I understand quite why he would arrange for a young lady to occupy a hotel room where Tom was supposed to be.  The other thing is why did Mrs Willis claim not to know Atkins when she had bought the house from him  and he had organised the renovation work.  Talking of which she had said she had the house before she was with Tom, although that maybe crossed wires on the part of the captive  Sandy.

I looked at Sandy sitting there looking like death warmed up

“Sandy are you OK, are you sick”

“Me oh no, well yes a bit, I have ha d few problems, but Nigel has helped me loads”

“Thats good” I said “When you say problems what do you mean?”

“Oh its sort of my head, things get confused and I cant always think straight, but the medicines help, just I cant sleep at night and then fall aslepp during the morning”

“Is that since you have been here?”

“Oh no I used to work for Toyota in the Uk and it started then.  They were reallygood to me but I was not coping with things and they tried to help me but I was embarrassed and some people said they would get rid of me and it was so complicated.”

“So what happened?”

“I ran away to Spain.  Actually I took my car and just drove here, there.  Actually it was their car but they didn’t mind and let me keep it and didn’t tell the police but they really wanted me to see a doctor.”

“who did”

“Mr Boss Mr Yakomoto (made up name) he said that if they could help me it would be better, but i was worried even though he was really nice.  I just couldn’t think, my head was going to burst.  I knew I wanted to go to Spain but forgot why and about three months later I was in a bar and my mum and dad walked in. They thought I had been kidnapped but I hadn’t.  It was just lucky they found me.  Then I stayed in Spain near them and started working with Nigel.”

What do your mum and dad think of you being here?”

“I don’t know really I haven’t spoken to them for ages, never in when we try to ring or bad line”

“Do you ring or is it Nigel”

“Nigel does it for me because he says I am not good with numbers  and shouldn’t get upset”

“Why would you get upset?”

“Oh I do easily Nigel says I say things I don’t mean and then I forget.”

“Do you know your mum and dads number?”

“No I cant remember numbers, Nigel has it on his phone though”

“I suppose Nigel has his phone with him”

“Oh yes he needs it all the time for business so he has to have it with him”

I got her to tell me her mum and dads name and where they lived and then rang Cyclops and asked him to find their number and to see what the score was.

It took about thirty minutes of inane chatter before Cyclops got back to me.  Mum and dad had not seen her for almost 18 months.  Nigel had told them she she had done a runner and did not know where she was.  They wanted to find her but could not afford the fees of a detective agency.  They had told Cyclops they would do what ever was best for their daughter but they would really like her home.

I chatted to Sandy and then casually asked if she would like to see her mum and dad.  She didn’t say anything but drew her knees up under her chin and slowly started to rock back and forth.  Her breathing changed and slowly she started to cry.  I went over to her and put my hand on her shoulder.

“Sandy, do you want me to take you to see your mum”

through her sobs she whispered

“Yes please dad”

Posted in Uncategorised | 4 Comments »

Old Age

20/03/2009 by Uncle.

I cannot say what I have been up to or I would have to kill you!  Actually that’s bollocks, but the job is no way near over yet and the truth be known I am starting to wonder if it will ever be over.

I have been here there and everywhere and although it is interesting  it is not as exotic as it sounds.  However and it is a very big however, it does pay and in these hard times I am grateful for that and have no right to complain.

I am just knackered and have come to the conclusion that old age is not creeping up on me, but has run past me and slapped me round the head with a kipper.  My arms have become to short for me to read without glasses and I was officially told by my youngest niece that she thought I had a bit of a gut.  She broke it to me gently as children do “Uncle Norman why is your tummy getting like Homer Simpsons?”

“Doh”

Posted in Uncategorised | 3 Comments »