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 |   A tentative blog to test the temperature. |
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Ten years ago I was writing several blogs on various subjects - F1 motor racing, Music, Classic Cars, Great Romances and, most crushingly, a personal journal that included my thoughts on America, memories of England and Africa, opinion, humour, writing and anything else that occurred. It all became too much (I was attempting to update the journal every day) and I collapsed, exhausted and thoroughly disillusioned in the end. So this blog is indeed a Toe in the Water, a place to document my thoughts in and on WdC but with a determination not to get sucked into the blog whirlpool ever again. Here's hoping.     |
| An Uplifting Vision One of the greatest blessings in life is to be happy in one’s work. Far too many of us toil away at jobs we tolerate so that we can survive to work another day, and few indeed are those lucky enough to be paid for what they enjoy doing. Just occasionally, however, we get to see someone involved in work they love and this gives us encouragement to know that it’s possible at least. There is one instance of this that I remember with perfect clarity, a sight so unexpected and heartwarming that it still makes me smile to remember it. It was set in a time long ago when trucks were starting to acquire those audible warnings broadcast whenever they reversed. The designers of this addition to modern conveniences had not yet decided upon an acceptable standard for the thing, and so we were subjected to a range of truck announcements, some in words (“Caution! I am reversing”) or musical sounds. There were even those that used a simple tune to alert the unwary pedestrian. It was one of these that created the circumstances of the vignette that I remember so well. It was in the town of Bedworth, just north of my ancestral city of Coventry, that I observed this little demonstration of pure joy. Beduff, as the locals pronounced it, was a solidly working class place, a dormitory town that supplied much of the muscle and labour for its neighbouring city. Its inhabitants were well known for their no-nonsense and down-to-earth character and attitude to life. At the time, I was working as a painter and decorator and had a large clientele amongst Bedworthians. I was taking a smoke break outside the house I was working on when I heard the musical jingle of a garbage truck reversing some way down the street. It was a considerable distance from where I stood but, being the only activity going on in that quiet morning, my eye was attracted to the scene. Sure enough, there was a large, dirty and disreputable truck reversing slowly and producing its merry little warning of danger. In the middle of the street there was a garbage man. He was dressed as a garbage man should be, in steel-toed, heavy boots, thick clothing against the cold and a weighty black jacket, and he was dancing to the music of the vehicle behind him. His arms akimbo, he leapt and twirled with complete abandonment as he proceeded to the next bin to be collected. In that moment, he was a visible expression of sheer joy in life, an unembarrassed explosion of happiness and carefree existence, an unfettered spirit released into freedom in spite of his apparent servitude in a mean and unenviable task. He made my day. I know, of course, that he was performing for the amusement of his workmates, the driver and the other garbageman, that he was making a mockery of the silly alarm music of the truck. It was, in fact, typical of the humour of the English working class, a silent rebellion against the drudgery of everyday. But that does not negate the wonder of his innocent outburst of joy. Without an awareness of and disdain for the limitations of his world, he would never have thought of entertaining his mates with so hilarious a display. It’s the existence amongst us of those that can rise above circumstances that gives us the ability to carry on. Life is never as bad as it may seem to be at times, and it’s the jokers among us that can lift us beyond despair. Word count: 601 |
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