Well here we are again, a week has flown by and I have been prodded and poked by the JP to give unto you a little extra - the main course arrives tomorrow, a perfectly harmless dissertation on the state of Special Educational Needs. Mrs B is worried I might upset someone but I told her to rest easy, people know that the Guru speaks only the truth and if the truth hurts then that shows some fault in the recipient of my wisdom and insight.
As if to prove a point, I awoke on Friday and found myself full of joie de vivre, or whatever the English equivalent is. I sat and ate my temporary breakfast cereal - temporary because when the box is empty I’m going back to granola - and watched the news and was saddened to see events in Pakistan. Terrible scenes of flooding and devastation, old men clinging to wire fences whilst the torrent of water threatened to tear them away from their loved ones and their lives.
And then a scene showing two buffalo being swept along by the cataract, terrified creatures who had no doubt shared a muddy field together, now facing their bovine fate side by side. Then,heartbreakingly, I spotted a poor little donkey, also being carried away to perish in the flood.
I tried to remain upbeat, I went out to work determined to be positive and enjoy the freedom of my life, the freedom from poverty and the devastating weather, in fact freedom from fear.
I drove to Lincoln and conducted a funeral and then on the way home I called at Tesco.
Even as I pulled into the car park, the cold hand of dread seized my heart, but I knew I had to face my fear and enter the palace of retail hell. Mrs B needed Pinot and so in I went.
I imagined myself in the role of Anna (minus the King) and I whistled a happy tune as I grasped my basket and set off in search of a few tidbits and as I passed the coleslaw section I heard some smelly oaf complaining very loudly, VERY loudly, about the cost of said cabbage based accompaniment.
The smelly rude man was being obnoxious to staff members and at that point the image of that drowning donkey flashed into my head and I was forced to speak, nay - to act!
So with basket in hand and smile firmly affixed I walked across and told him that the cost of a pot of coleslaw was nothing at the side of the cost of losing your home, your livelihood or your life. I then raised my own voice, slightly and said “Get a grip you moron, coleslaw is a luxury!”
I walked away feeling full of joy, the rude man stood, stunned by my outburst - I then stopped dead in my tracks, turned and walked back to the display where I selected the most expensive coleslaw I could find and placed it in my basket. If I had long hair, this is when I would have tossed it in a disdainful manner. I now made my exit, via the pizza aisle - well I needed something for the coleslaw to go on. Farewell fish finger sandwiches which had been my choice for the evening repast.
In hindsight speaking in this way to a total stranger was a dangerous course of action as he looked the type who might carry some sort of offensive weapon, which would have neatly matched his offensive demeanour, appearance and smell.
Sometimes we have to speak up, we have to point out the absurdity of a situation, we have to open our hearts and act, otherwise all the little donkeys in the world might die in vain.
I like to think that the little donkey in Pakistan, the poor terrified creature, died to give me the courage to put that imbecile in his place.
Thank you little donkey.
And so my day continued and I enjoyed my pizza and coleslaw - bloody expensive middle class coleslaw, but every mouthful was sweeter as I thought of that rank odorous troglodyte eating his value coleslaw and wondering who they hell was that man in the suit and lovely silk tie who harangued me in Tesco? (Of course he wouldn’t have said harangued, he was too thick).
Thank you for reading the Saturday Supplement, now go on line and support the Disasters Emergency Committee or the Donkey Sanctuary...please.
See you tomorrow.
http://drupal.thedonkeysanctuary.org.uk/
http://www.dec.org.uk/
