Nested stories (part three of five)

EXPERIMENTING FARMER GLAMIS was thrilled at first when his dairy cattle started to produce quality milk. He was busy arranging a distribution network of daily deliveries, as well as discovering the techniques required to make cheese and yoghurt. Even his early attempts at a soft blue cheese were a success, and his range of fruit yoghurts was also welcomed in the local shops, and eagerly sought out by customers.
 

Unfortunately, his experience as an arable farmer did not transfer easily to the daily duties of dairy production. Additionally, a number of his farm hands were laid off as he no longer had the large bonus to his annual income when the time came for reckoning up his grain and hay sales from his vastly reduced fields. This combination left him short-handed in the milking parlour, and without the cashflow to hire anyone else.
 

So he tried to sell a few cows, to reduce the workload.
 

This proved rather complicated, as Farmer Glamis wasn’t offering enough cattle to start up a business, and none of the existing dairy farms in the district were looking to expand at this time of economic uncertainty. So what could he do?
 

He decided to try butchery, and took two of his dairy cows to the abattoir. But the cows had been reared with maximized milk production in mind, but not to build muscle or fat. Their meat was tough and unpleasant.
 

Yet it was food, and Farmer Glamis had to make the most of it. He would grind it down to mince, mix it with breadcrumbs and cheap herbs and make sausages and pies. But all this extra work took manpower, and his meat sales were insufficient to offset the extra costs. So he lived on his own expensive produce, and thus on a spiral to oblivion.
 

He knew this wasn’t working well, and felt a little guilty that he was making a fist of the opportunity the Chamber of Commerce had so generously provided. He took three of his best cows to be serviced by a bull, and was pleased when two of them produced calves.
 

These he treated with the appropriate feed to ensure they were good for slaughter, and would provide excellent eating. Perhaps he was turning things around. His cashflow continued to be a problem, but at least there was light at the end of the tunnel.    
 

One thing was preoccupying him, however. 

How was his son Thomas? Was he lost? Was he alive? Could he have survived? Had he made a name for himself in the big city? Was he happy? Was he satisfied? Was he content, now?
 

Each day, Jack spent time up on the roof of his house, looking to see if his son Thomas was returning. He hadn’t come back yesterday, but it’s possible he would return today, and Jack wanted to be there to welcome him. 

But then disaster struck everyone.

HIS YOUNGER SON, Thomas, had packed up his belongings, and set off for – as it happened – Dissipation City, where the bars, restaurants, casinos, theatres and nightclubs beckoned with dazzling sparkle and a lure that Thomas could not resist.
 
He met a number of young men and women who were more than willing to help him have a good time and eat, drink and be very merry as often as possible. He’d take his new-found friends out for meals and lots of cocktails and to a show and then on to a club or out for a wild night of debauchery or a trip to the casino.
 

His friends didn’t contribute to the expense; they just incurred it, with abandon.
 

Pretty soon, his money ran out and he was penniless and without anywhere to stay, as he could no longer afford to live in an hotel and there were not many guest houses.
 

He wandered the streets for several days until a wino showed him that he could probably get a bed in one of the hostels for the homeless. He wandered to the address and liked the look of the place, which had the name FASHION on the door. He made enquiries and, having qualified for help, lay down on one of the beds and got a decent nights’ sleep. 

He had not realized that disaster had struck everyone.

FOOD WAS IN short supply. The crops had failed; the weather had been unfavorable and even the best-organised farms couldn’t magic grain from nowhere.
 

The people began to starve and famine gripped the land.

THE QUALITY AND quantity of the food scraps that people were throwing out was, as Charles Cooterie discovered, greatly reduced; there was a small amount of very low-quality pods and husks, plus a lot of inedible waste (even for pigs). His animals began to suffer, and he had to lay off many of his hired men, which put extra pressure on the remainder, and there was not sufficient income to support them. It was a nightmare.

MEANWHILE YOUNG THOMAS Glamis was feeling sorry for himself, partly because he was still staying in the FASHION House. He spoke to the supervisor in charge of rehabilitation, and together they discussed the prospects.

‘I think you are ready to go and seek some work.’

‘Okay…’

‘The charity is prepared to smooth the way, as we are still receiving adequate gifts and legacies. So what we will do is encourage you to present yourself to a local entrepreneur and ask him to employ you; in the meanwhile, we’ll make a bursary available to him, to make it easier for him – you know, providing cash so that he can afford to employ you. 

‘Do you see? He gets a financial incentive to employ you; you get the dignity of work and everyone benefits from the charity. Good, eh?’
 

‘Sounds like a plan. To whom shall I apply?’
 

‘Well, we have made arrangements with a local firm; Charles Cooterie needs some more workers and is providing a good service to the community, so that’s a win-win situation.’

‘I’m on my way.’

SO, A LITTLE while later, Thomas Glamis was sitting by a trough where a few skinny, diseased pigs were shuffling and rooting about among the pathetic-looking pods and waste for any bits that were suitable for food. 

Thomas was very hungry, too, as when he had taken his meagre wages to the shop, there was no food to buy – no sausages, no dairy products, no bread or any other goods. 

He was contemplating his circumstances.
to be continued