Theirs was a typical road, a typical terraced road with certainly
nothing special about it other than it was where they lived. OK the road
surface was pitted and marked and the paving slabs cracked and uneven in places
but it was their road.
Of course they complained, of course they wanted it to be
better – they wanted their road to be repaired, lit better, have better
services. And why shouldn’t they want that? It was their road
Then one day the people heard there road was going to be
extended, new houses built but, and it was big but, as part of that work there
was to be a new road surface, new paving, new lighting and extra money for
local services paid for by the new homes. So, although they had their doubts
they agreed and the new houses were built.
Then for a while everyone was happy. The older residents
loved the improvements and although the people in the new houses ‘weren’t quite
like us’ they seemed all right. And of course they were, because being
different doesn't automatically create a problem if you try to understand and
get along with each other.
But then it started. It was subtle at first. Just odd words,
odd phrases, the introduction of them and us. Then the local newspaper started
saying how much 'better off' the people at the new end of the road were.
Voices got louder – ‘moved into our road and start using our
streetlights’, ‘walking on our pavement and wearing it out’. Soon the cry was
heard regularly – ‘we want our road back’. The memories of how the road used
to be had grown hazy, new stories of how ‘great’ it was were propagated.
Life, quite simply, had been much better in the old days, before …….. well,
just before.
And so a meeting was held and a plan hatched. Not everyone
was for it, in fact it was just a handful of votes difference but it was
decided that the plan would go ahead. They would set fire to the houses at the
top of the road.
Now of course there were those whingeing voices that kept
saying ‘but these are terraced houses, the fire could spread down to this end’
but the louder voices just kept saying everything would be ok, better in fact
as they would get all the light and paving and services, oh and more.
But doubts persisted in some. The fire could destroy
everything. They just wouldn’t accept they had lost the vote. Finally, the
leader of the plan explained that everything would be ok because the wind would
blow up the street and keep the flames at that end only. Voices of opposition
saying you couldn’t control the wind were denounced as pessimists.
And so the plan was actioned and the fire started. The
blaze, grew and grew and soon some of the old residents in the middle of the
street began to mutter that the fire was getting awfully close. In fact it was
getting too close and licking at the roofs of their houses.
‘What happened to the wind you promised?’ they shouted to
the leader of the plan.
‘We never said there would be a wind,’ he answered with
liar’s eyes.
Soon the sound of streetlights cracking was heard. ’You said
we’d keep the lights!’ some shouted.
‘We never promised you lights,’ he answered with liar’s
voice.
Slowly it became clear that the whole street would be
destroyed and by morning all that was left was the charred remains of their
homes, cracked paving, broken streetlights and pot marked surfaces.
As the residents turned to their leader they saw him getting
into a lovely new car. ‘Now don’t you worry about me,’ he called out to them,
I’ve been invited to move to a beautiful new town with people more like me. But
look,’ he said pointing, ‘You’ve got your road back.’
And indeed they had
