THE SHEPHERD’S STORY RETOLD
It happened like this: We were getting ready for the morning collection round the villages. According to our manager we are the nations first line of defence against social detritus we are ‘The Bin Men’. We were just having a mug of tea round the back of the wagon before we set out when this geezer showed up from nowhere; he was a big bloke and well he sort of shone.
He said there wasn’t a moment to loose, well the manager’s always saying that so we looked at one another and laughed. The big guy was insistent though; and he had a way of speaking the second time that just made you listen and he said again, “There isn’t a moment to loose, go to Penmachno and in the stable you will find one who is born to save the world.” Then he vanished and we all could hear this loud ringing or singing noise in our ears. Well as you can imagine we looked at one another and said stupid things like, ‘did you see that or was I dreaming’? But we all said we had seen him.
Well you could have knocked me down with a leek. Penmachno if you please!
When did anything happen in Penmachno? Penmachno was on our rounds though; we usually end up there and can’t wait to get out. The place gives me the creeps.
“Let’s do the round the other way round today mates,” I said. “It can’t do any harm to see what that bloke was taking about”, so we set off, and as the wagon was empty was got to Penmachno in record time. It’s usually about eleven o’clock when we get there but we stopped at the first collection point at half past six. Instead of the usual six or seven bins there was only one and we’d hardly emptied it when who should arrive but that bloke again. Bold as brass and twice as shiny, there he stood right in front of the wagon and all he said was “Hurry!” then he vanished again.
Well you could be forgiven for thinking I’d been on the drink, but I hadn’t honest just the usual six pints the night before. Anyway, the rest of the crew didn’t see him this time so when I started off before they’d got in the crew cab they were shoutin’ had hollerin’ like I’d stood on their mother’s grave or something. So I stopped and let them in. They were cursing and shoutin’ about the dubious nature of my mother’s morality then when I started off as fast as our wagon would go they all hollered at me to slow down, so I did and slammed on the anchors at the end of the street right outside the boozer called, ‘Ystabl’ which in case you don’t know is Welsh for ‘The Stable.’
There wasn’t a light on in the place and the mist had come down; everything was dripping wet just the sort of weather that makes our job a delight, I don’t think!
So I got out of the cab feeling a bit of a fool and ran (Yes, I know I’m not built for running but I ran), up to the front door and bashed my fists on it as if my life depended on something.
You should have heard the noise! Just like banging on a big bass drum and of course at that time of the morning there was no-one down stairs but after I knocked the second time a window was flung open up stairs and the landlady stuck her head out and asked what the blue blazes was the matter. (Well, that’s no quite what she said but modesty forbids me to use her exact words).
That’s when I chickened out, I mumbled something about a baby being born and she said she couldn’t hear me so I shouted and she said I needn’t shout and by this time half the village was awake and all the lights had come on in the pub.
It turned out they were full that day for the fist time in ages with a party of tax collectors on a team bonding exercise. Well the landlady told me that late last night a young hippy couple had come asking for a bed but she’d turned them away ‘cause she was full’.
She said she didn’t know where they’d gone but just then there came this cry, at first we all thought it was a cat but then it came again much louder and we all dashed round the back of the boozer to the barn.
Quite a sight we must have been at twenty to seven on a dark misty morning in Penmachno – four grown men in ‘Hi Vis’ jackets and a load of people in various stages of dress running round the back of a boozer, yes quite a sight.
Anyway we found were the noise had come from. There in the barn (well what was left of the barn, it has half collapsed and clearly hadn’t been used by any farmer for some time.) It had more broken cars and bits of scrap in it than Steptoe’s yard but in the corner on a heap of old tarpaulins was the most wonderful sight you ever did see, there was this young couple sitting hugging each other and their new born baby. That kid’s cry didn’t seem as loud as what we heard but I suppose the barn sort of amplified the cry and it seemed that the entire world had heard it, as people kept arriving and squeezing in behind us. I missed the birth of my kids; the wife wouldn’t let me anywhere near. But this was a real treat.
Then it started again that singing sound and suddenly everyone went quiet and looked up I don’t know why it just seemed to be where the singing noise was coming from and in the misty sky there was all sorts of figures or lights swirling around and the singing sound seemed to come from them. It was beautiful!
Then that bloke showed up again; …well I think he did, …well I saw him, and he repeated what he’d said at the beginning that morning “There isn’t a moment to loose, in the stable you will find one who is born to save the world.” Then he said, “Go and tell everyone you meet.”
So here I am…
Now where did you say your bin was; round the back? No trouble.
