Кадр выше наш. Полное медиа с Facebook запрошено — подставим его сюда, как только приедет.
Link to the app 👉
A month ago I was crying on the bus after my shift. Today I’m writing this. I don’t even know why I’m writing it. Probably because if I don’t, I’ll either explode or completely fall apart. Maybe both. I’m not the type who complains. Never have been. My dad worked at the steelworks in Rotherham right until they shut it down. He never moaned once. My grandad was a miner in Orgreave, lived through the ’84 strike. Didn’t complain either. In our family, that’s just not how it works. You graft. You keep your head down. End of. But yesterday, on the bus home after my shift, I cried. Just sat there by the window in my orange hi-vis, covered in dirt after twelve hours on the roads, and the tears came. Quietly. I turned to the glass and hoped no one would notice. I don’t know if they did. Didn’t really care. Here’s what got me to that point. Who I am My name’s Jim Butler. I’m 41, from Sheffield. Road worker. Eighteen years. Pothole repairs, line marking, replacing manhole covers — all the stuff you drive over and never think about. Night shifts, summer shifts, Christmas shifts. We’re out there while everyone else is sleeping. I actually liked the job. Honestly. Being outside, on the move, you see the result straight away. Today there’s a hole, tomorrow it’s smooth tarmac. Simple, honest work. I lived in Attercliffe — proper old industrial part of Sheffield. Not fancy, but it was home. Renting a two-bed for £820 a month. My daughter Kylie — she’s 9 — lives with her mum in the city centre. I see her every weekend. I’ve never missed a payment of maintenance. Didn’t have a car. Got about on the bus or on foot. That bit’s important — you’ll see why later. I cooked for myself. No takeaways, no restaurants. Iceland, Aldi, whatever was cheapest. Didn’t really have proper weekends — shifts were all over the place. Sometimes four on, two off. Sometimes six on, one off. I just got on with it. Never lived large, but I was managing. The numbers Take-home was about £2,180 —
