Page 184 - It's a Rum Life Book 3 "Ivy House Tales 1970 to 1984"
P. 184

The really local, local newspapers would not touch my story with a barge pole because of
            local “politics”. It was all too near to home for them!


            The Grimsby Telegraph actually published a piece about my many years of victimisation!
            I was delighted and obviously very pleased.

            It is 2008 now and I suppose I must wait and see if this “son” of unpleasantness continues
            or he may have a son who is even worse!

            I might add that when I state that the original “plaintiff”, the father, was unpleasant, that is
            putting it very mildly.
            A more unpleasant man you would have to go a long way to meet. Meet him you would not
            wish twice.
            Big, flurid, fat, loud mouthed, selfish, rude to the extent of uncouth and ignorant.
            Then more and more and even more. Even then I could not hope to paint a true picture of
            the man!


            Son of a father who had worked hard in the past no doubt and put together a considerable
            holding of land.

            Now his son is carrying on the tradition. Worshippers of wealth they are and recognisers of
            good they are not.
            Fields of 100 acres plus, they have many. As far as the eye can see, simply because on
            their land there are no hedgerows or trees or anything else that is nice!


            I have always believed that “good will prevail” in all things. Evil can be defeated, but it does
            not happen overnight.

            I was not really surprised to hear that the original “plaintiff” had died. One of the oldest
            sayings is that “there are no pockets in shrouds!” You can not take it with you!

            Time will tell and those who live longest will see most and I must admit to a gentle smirk
            every time I drive through New Bolingbroke and see those lovely ‘Public Footpath’ signs!

            N.B. One night in 1984, not long after we had managed to complete the move to
            “Northcote”, I had my first and hopefully not to be repeated “Heart Attack”.

            I did mange to get Ruth to stay calm and not bother the “authorities”, so I stayed at home
            and was able to get on with looking after the many animals that depended on us.....at a
            much reduced speed I must add...... it took a long time to get over.
















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