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Tall stories anyone??
About half an hour drive from where I live is a quaint little village set in the foothills of ‘Montseny’ Parc Natural....
. It is nationally renowned for its manufacture of ceramics and pottery and stands with the name of ‘Breda’..........Every other house is a small factory with its own kiln run by the family who live there..........Each has a shop/terrace selling directly onto the street.... . It’s a well visited tourist spot and coach parties arrive throughout the summer months....I go often with the missus to buy stuff for the garden. During nigh on every visit I have noted the eternal presence of a stooped, elderly gentleman in an ever present felt fedora hat who trails around the narrow streets with a little handcart collecting the debris of broken ceramic and pottery discarded out the back doors of the many small kiln houses....He is a bit of a local character and many tourists take photos of him whilst at his toil. . During one visit I was having a swift wet in one of the few hostelries there as the missus was out perusing pots when the said character passed the bar frontage and all the locals called out a hearty good day and waved. I turned to an old crone sat close by my table and inquired as to whom the colourful cart puller was. . She cackled hoarsely, threw back the tiny glass of red wine in front of her, gestured the host for me to fill her glass and beckoned me closer. I obliged... . ‘’I’ll tell you a story’’, she babbled.....’’I’ll tell you a story sir’’! . She wiped the back of a mottled, dark skinned hand across cracked dry lips as she gulped a mouthful of wine redder than blood.. . ‘’He appeared’’, she nodded toward the old bent figure outside in the sunshine, ‘’ He appeared here many, many years ago’’. She gazed off somewhere with a small wry smile on her lined face. . ‘’ He appeared many, many years ago, just with the rags on his back, he had nothing more......nothing!’’ . ‘’ Her shrivelled hand shook slightly as she raised the glass to drink! . ‘’He looked for work sir.....Looked hard....But’’ She shrugged, ‘’the way things were back then...eh?’’ Tiny frail shoulders shook beneath her tattered shawl. . ‘’Looked for work for many months, many months sir.....But nothing.....No work....There was no work back then’’, She scratched at the old wooden table with an old ragged nail. . ‘’ The Generalissimo’’ she whispered, ‘’the troubles’’, Bloodshot eyes darted back and forth furtively.......’’ You understand?’’ . ‘’He had nothing....No food......I...I....fed him....You know ....helped him, we helped him’’ . I nodded, urging her to continue! . ‘’In the end.....He went to the mayor, you know....The mayor’’ . I nodded again, knowingly. . ‘’He asked for help.....for money....You know....Money....To buy the cart’’ . I was transfixed...I swallowed and smiled my understanding. . ‘’With the cart’’, she pointed a gnarled finger in the direction of the old man, slowly pushing his cart along the dusty, dry street. . ‘’With...the cart....He collected all the pots....All the pots, you know? All the broken pots and pieces.....All the broken pieces of pots’’, she trailed off mumbling. . I smiled at the crone as if we were sharing some secret. . ‘’For years he gathered....for years he collected.....Yeas and years he collected all the pieces, the broken pots.....saving them.....Saving and selling them....You know?’’ . My eyes caught the bartenders and I looked down at her half empty glass, he grimaced and reached for the wine bottle... . The little dark clothed old woman went on..... . ‘’All the pots and pieces....All the broken pots and pieces...He saved them and sold them, saved and sold them....All of them!’’ . I took a sip at my now tepid beer... . ‘’He saved and sold....saved and sold.....all of them..’’ . She crouched forward as if in pain, clutching the wineglass as a crutch, fingers tight and raw, knuckles like tiny white pebbles! . ‘’Do you know how much he is worth now.....this man....How much?’’ . I leaned in closer, I could smell the Earth on her, the very soil she trod in her daily life! . ‘’How much?’’ I whispered...’’How much?’’ . ‘’Fu#k all’’ she cackled...... . ’’Fu#k all....And he still owes for the handcart’’!! . :huh: |
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