Sometime in the 1630’s I think. Thames foreshore. Lambeth, London. Uk. 

I was out walking with a lady called Charlotte after a bellyful of wine and chops, when she decided she wanted a trip to the foreshore to see what she could find. I tried to tell her that it was a genuinely foul, stinking place but she wasn’t having any of it and was dead set on mudlarking . 

I was keen to find an old ring or love token in the clinging thames mud to give her but as we walked along when found something  more shocking. A little baby! The baby was wrapped in a table cloth that was wrapped closely around the baby like he was a human fajita. 

The little one was actually in rude health and had an incredible set of lungs on him that he certainly wasn’t shy of using! The crying attracted quite a crowd and we explained what happened to them and then took the baby to a nearby ale house. The landlady and barman checked the baby over and we took the baby back to Charlottes house where he lived under the care of her old nanny. 

The parallels to the biblical story are so close that I named the child Moses. Sadly, no one else was keen and named him William but he’ll always be Moses to be. I wanted this piece to be something my Moses could lie in and have a bit more protection from the elements as he was a bit damp when I found him, as well as tipping the hat to his more famous namesake. 

I heard some years later that Moses was killed in a huge explosion in central London when some badly stored gunpowder went off taking out a whole area. Moses had finished work and was off to the pub when he was hit by debris.  RIP lad. Tragic.