Posted: Wed Jan 07, 2009 5:12 pm Post subject: 2015 Part One.
The clock on the Church Tower struck midnight as Peter slowly walked through the almost deserted High Street.
It was New Years Eve 2014, and Peter could not help but remember those New Years Eves of years ago, in the days before the Great World Depression hit. It all started back in the early Summer of 2008 when the Sub-Prime Loan scandal first affected America, and the knock-on effects quickly spread to other Countries.
The governments of the day tried massive Bail-Outs of the banks all to no avail. The Global Economy contracted, car manufacturers went bust as did many banks and financial institutions. Shops closed, businesses went into receivership, and the British Economy ground to a halt.
He recalled that last New Years Eve when some people still had hope for the future. It had been bitterly cold, but he wrapped himself up warmly and made his way up to London and saw in 2009 with many other similar minded folk. Even then, there were those who stayed at home not having the inclination nor the cash to waste on a night out.
Peter was made redundant a few months later, and had been out of work ever since. Oh yes, he tried to find another job, writing applications, visiting Job Centre Plus three times a week, but all to no avail. He learned quickly how to get by on Dole money, supplemented with doing Car Boot Sales, until things grew so bad, that people started staying away from those even.
Soup kitchens appeared in the cities and towns all over the country, mostly run by the Salvation Army, who, despite fewer and fewer donations, managed to somehow keep going.
He continued walking past the rows of empty and boarded up shops, shops that had not so very long ago been full of goods and produce, and friendly staff.
Now, all the Independent Butchers, Bakers, and Greengrocers had given up. The four main Supermarkets Tesco, Morrisons, Sainsburys, and Asda, were all now taking Food Stamps. These Food Stamps were issued by the Government in place of cash, this had happened when the Pound had finally become worthless, about three years ago.
Britain, along with America, and many other Western Countries was technically bankrupt. The huge Public Infrastructure Work that had been brought in by Gordon Brown in 2009 had run out of funding, and half-finished bridges, roads, and hospitals seemed to be everywhere.
Peter became aware of a shadowy figure hurrying towards him. The figure was dressed in the uniform of a Council Enforcement Officer. “Happy New Year”, ventured Peter, “cold tonight, isn’t it.” “Show me your I.D.” replied the CEO, gruffly, not bothering to respond to Peters greeting.
Peter reached into his inside pocket and produced his Identity Card. The CEO snatched it, and ran the beam of a powerful torch over it, then flashed the beam into Peter’s face to check the photo was correct.
The man handed back Peters card, saying, “If I were you, I’d go home, there’s nowhere open now, and the best and safest place is in your own home”.
“Goodnight then” said Peter. “I’m on my way”.
When Peter arrived at the grotty bedsit he now called “home”, he let himself in, flicked the light switch, but there was no electric. Blackouts were a commonplace thing now, so he lit the stub of a candle, checked his camping Gaz stove to see if he had any gas left in the tiny cylinder, and put the kettle on to make himself a cup of hot tea before going to bed.
Before blowing the candle out and going to sleep, Peter wondered just what the New Year would bring. Probably more of the same, but he still had some hope left, however slender it now seemed. He drifted off to sleep, and escaped to his dreams.
I enjoyed that Sandie.
In fact it reminded me of the 1930s and how my parents had to let me go to a Sisters of Mercy home because they could not afford the medicine I needed. These so called Sisters of Mercy were NOT so merciful I have to say. In fact some were downright cruel.
My father was a real cockney but he moved from London to Dagenham to find work in 1929 during the depression. _________________ If you cant say something nice then dont say anything at all.
Thank you, May. That was meant to be the First part of a Three Part story, but so far I haven't got around to writing the new parts.
As regards to the so-called "Sisters of Mercy", I have known other people who were thrown on the "tender mercies" of Monks and Nuns, none of whom were very "tender" or "merciful".
Some people still bear the scars to this day, both physical and mental!!!!
You cannot post new topics in this forum You cannot reply to topics in this forum You cannot edit your posts in this forum You cannot delete your posts in this forum You cannot vote in polls in this forum
