Writer and Musician
'I am a writer and musician who loves storytelling and folk tales. I am a former teacher and my Master’s dissertation was on the use of storytelling to help people overcome personal challenges.'
The idea came to me when someone gleefully stated that, as he lived in West Yorkshire, he’d be safe from rising sea levels. I suggested that as EVERY SINGLE port, harbour, and docking facility was more or less at sea level, (as, I depressingly believe, are the nuclear power stations), imports as we know them would be virtually impossible. In that scenario, in addition to it becoming very crowded where he lived, coupled with the fact that much of our arable land would be under water, there would be limited opportunity for any food or other essentials to be imported.
No-one, I said, would be safe.
- Nick Lumb, 2021
Once upon a time there were three little pigs. One lived at the top of a hill, and because he knew the sea could never reach that far he built a house of straw. The second lived half way up the hill, and because he knew the sea could never reach that far he built a house of sticks. These two finished their work very quickly and then sang and danced all day, safe in the knowledge that the waves could never reach them. The third little pig lived down on the sea shore and worked hard all day building a house of bricks with a high wall to keep the sea at bay.
And then one day a big bad storm came along and with a huff and a puff it blew the straw house down in a matter of seconds. The frightened little pig ran down the hill to the house that was made of sticks and hoped he would be safe. Now, as the storm battered their flimsy shelter, and the rainwater flowed down the hillside the two little pigs huddled together and peered at the house on the sea shore.
“Oh I wish that we’d built proper houses instead of using straw and sticks”, they cried.
But at that very moment, a huge wave came over the wall and forced the third little pig to abandon his home and run up the hill to join his friends in the last remaining house.
As the big bad storm huffed and puffed, the little pigs cowered in the wet, cramped, shaking house.
“I thought I’d be safe, at the top of the hill”, said one.
“I thought I’d be safe, up here on the slopes”, said another.
“And I thought I’d be safe, behind my wall”, said the third.
But as it turned out, no one was safe…
THE THREE LITTLE PIGS