The Misrepresentation of the Mudlarker
A Job from long ago
The grey cloudy sky hinted at rain, but little Jimmy had work to do as he scavenged around the murky and muddy waters of the dockyard, looking for any objects of value. Times were hard; his father never made it home from the war. At 8 years he was the eldest of 4 children and now the man of the house.
As he searched the area people shouted insults and abuse at him. Jimmy ignored them, he was busy. He was working and determined to find something, anything of value to take home.
His mother and siblings needed to eat. Crawling around the barges Jimmy was cold and hungry. His body grimed with the foul smell of the water that surrounded him. As the rain came down Jimmy knew he had to get out of murky depths or face trouble. Today’s efforts had been fruitless, Jimmy would be going home empty-handed.
Covered in filth and raw sewage, Jimmy emerged, but a glimmer caught his eyes. Jumping back into the water he discovered a shilling. This would be enough for a loaf of bread and maybe even some milk. Today was indeed a good day as his family could now eat.
The golden age of mudlarking was long gone, the muddy plains once searched was now reclaimed land. In the dockyard stood a statue, paying tribute to the mudlarkers. A young man dressed in a smart suit took a selfie with the statue, he meant no disrespect but he was once told a story by his grandfather, Jimmy, on how he helped support his family and almost made a shilling a day in the murky waters.
Mudlarking was his heritage, his history, his family story. If it wasn’t for his grandfather’s interesting occupation a whole generation may not have existed.
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