Great Women You Should Know: Joan Whittington
You might know about the very important work the Red Cross does all over the world to help people in a crisis. Wherever there is war or natural disaster, their familiar symbol can be seen on flags above makeshift hospitals and parcels of emergency food supplies.
You probably know less, though, about the brave and generous individuals who dedicate their lives to the Red Cross. These people work tirelessly to help those in need and seek no recognition for what they do, but recently we came across the story of a real-life heroine that more people need to know about.
A Short Story – Concrete
Cold, rough concrete beneath my burnt yellow hands, ash under my nails. I hold the butt of an already smoked cigarette in my mouth, looking hopeless. Not even the phrase, “Any spare change?” will get anybody to notice me, the old tramp of Brixton, sitting on the side of a busy main road. Every day I get unhelpful comments from young school kids, such as, “The local druggie! Ha, ha, ha…” These don’t make me feel better. It’s not my fault I’m unemployed, homeless and either drunk or high most of the time. Or is it?
People ask me how on earth I find all the money to buy over fifty cans of beer a week and a rather large variety of harmful grasses from drug-dealers. Sometimes I wonder too. I’ve only ever stolen something once. Twice then. OK! I’ve stolen eight times! Where else am I supposed to get money from (not including vulnerable children’s purses)? But, I’ve been thinking… Maybe, just maybe, it would be a slight possibility – just a slight one – that I could consider starting afresh. By ‘afresh’ I mean a new life in which I give up all my addictions, that are slowly rotting my bones, and make lasting friendships, that won’t break. Ever.









