New Year Thoughts.

Thah’s sick Ah’m s o this middle aged spread. T’s time fer me to do summat a’baht it. In’t new year , am off on’t diet,  na’h moor puddin’ ner cakes fer me.

Nah thah’s kiddin’ thissen, thah likes thah grub to much, nah if thah’s serious abah’t  loisin sum weight, t’ proper road is ter goa on a fast, thi mud as weall do t’job reight. Thah’s gonna gi’ up suppin annawl,  thah’s why I’ ‘av’   gorra  a bit o’  a middle aged spread, but t’flab’s gerrin’ varry unsightly ter see, t’as gorra go, thah’s ner more t’ be sed.

 A thort a mite tek up jogging, but I denr’t  see  a’s got thi’ stamina fer it.   p’raps  ride on ‘t bike, or goa  dahn baths fer a swim ,Tha’ll soon loose a few pahnd  , after fost mile o’ too?

A knaw  t’s nah gawin’ be easy, A’ll  get back inta trim, mite, join t’ gym, but a’ knows tha’ll end up paggered , or skint.

T’s a long way off ‘till , thi meks a start, so thi  will carry on, fer nah. Cos I am garrin on a bit, and resolutions are med to b’ broken.

World Cup.

Bye eck, thah's nor ad time to be puttin' owt on eer, thah's bin fah t' busy watchin yon football.

Fooking Germans, they bombed arr chippy thah nah's.Thi berra nah win t'day.

Christmas day at arr 'ouse.

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     Packed t' rafters it wor.

          ' appy Christmas to thi all.

Christmas time allus reminds me o' fowks long since gone.

Mi Mah 'specially, dernt nah worra wud 'a done wi'owt er. Salt o't 'erth shi wor.Allus doin' summat shi wor, 'cleanin'dahning arr dads socks, cookin' cleanin', mitherin' oeer t'bairns, nivver stopped she dahn't, god bless 'er , oh how I miss 'err.

Thah wor good timers back then, Christmas day at 'arr 'ouse. Wi all 'ad t' be theeahr, packed t'rafters it wah, allus full o' good cheeahr.

Pullin' crackers, an laffin' at all daft jokes that wor in 'em. Crackin' nuts, wi nutcracker, that wor only used at Christmas. Oranges stuffed dahn socks, hung up on 't mantlepiece, propa smashin. 

Smell o' 't turkey and roast tatties waftin' owt o' t kitchen, made thi feel maffted wi all t' 'eat comin' owt o' t oven,  i can smell it nah.

When wi'd cleared up, mi and mi ma’h , would av’ a tipple o' sherry, whilst all t' men, went dahn t' pub fer a jar o' two.

Thah wor allus summat t' do back then, 'ad nowt t'do wi' moonay, wi'all 'ad nowt back then, all o' us went wi'aht, but wi' di'nt moap abaht, nor like thi do thissdays " wot thi nivver 'ad , thi nivver missed " mam used to say, she wah reite an'all.

Wi wor quite 'appy either lakin' abaht wi' t' monopoly or watchin', Ken Dodd,  Morcambe & Wise, Tommy Trinder,or if wi wor lucky, wi wud watch Bob Monkehouse 

on ' t London Palladium christmas special.

All gone far t' soon, them days, so mind that thi leeks after me mam up there 'God, an'all 'em special 'ard workin' fowks thats gone, wish em all Merry Christmas, and thanks fer all thi done.

Grandah's Credit Crunch

 Grandpa

 Mi, dah's knocking on a bit, still 'a likes 'im coming round fer a brew, likes t'tell 'is tales.


"When I were a lad, our mam would send us down to t'corner store wi' a shillin',and I'd come back wi' five pounds o'potatoes, two loaves o' bread, three pint o'milk,a pound o'cheese,a packet o'tea,an 'alf a dozen eggs. Yer can't do that nowadays. Too many fookin' security cameras."

Arr Norma, ad 'eard it all afooar, yawning 'err ed off she wah,  "Bah, granda' went on, all this clap trap, abaht credit crunch, thah dunnno't know meaning o 't word, nooah brass ".

"By gum, Ah'ad summat on when ah, wor a lad, browt up wi' nowt wi wor, aye, wi wor that 'ungry mi belly, thaw't mi throit wor cut, nah such thing as luxuries fer us, wi wor lucky, if wi gorra kippa fer us tea, thin wi all 'ad to share it, wi 'ad t' rub kippa's backbone, on 't slice o't stale bread, so wi all 'ad summat 't eat. Woe betite us if wi  turned us nose up, wi'd 'a gorra reite tounge lashing, wi' wud ". 


"Nah, thah dun't know 't meaning o't word credit crunch, not this days ".

 

Shaz & Mave

                          Shaz & Mave                       

             ( Dahn bother 't book 'em )

By gum, wi' 'erd em yellin at each other frem one corner at t' pub t'other.

Nivver erd owt, like it either, language fit fer pits,  yu'd thawt arr Bert had lost his pidgins way thah wah carrin on.

Women an' all, well i thinks they wah women.  Shaz & Mave thi call 'thissen's. Singers, thi reckon,  all gone wrong it ad, nobody liked  'em. 



A cockney tribute band, put on special to bring a bit of atmosphere, to ' Oss & Fodder, trying t' bring village together more t's Landlord. Trying to please em downshifters, mek em  feel moor ' t' home.

Even put plates of jellied eels o 't tables, and much t'arr Bert's disgust, the  usual copy of his Pidgeon fanciers monthly & Thoroughbred ferrets gazette,  wah nowhere t be sin, 'ad bin replaced, wi' copies of Hello magazine, & and  Counry Life.



Bloody terrible, they wir, proper odd,  all short hair, and dungarees, a couple they arr annall, adopted a couple o' kids , cah'nt get mi head round that one. Still thah's nowt as queer a fowk.


Started off singing, Rabbit, Rabbit, well, owd George, t's a bit mutton jeff, thawt, a rabbit 'ad come in, just abaht to reach fer 'is shotgun he wah silly apath.



"Thas's got smashin thighs, not bad eyes, tha's norra a bad lass, thah's gorra a lot thah's no doubt, but thah's thinkin, o' blowin' you owt. Cos thah nor stops rabbitin on. "Rabbit, Rabbit ".


Thah's gor smashin 'air, were a smashin' pair, nah thah' dunno mind thi 'avin' a chat, but thah's gorra stop givin' it that. Well thah wah it, Landlord, add enough, slung em owt. Gerroff he said, it's crap.


Arr, Bert ses, "if thah 't  sort o songs thi sin, dahn south, thi can leave em at Ol' Bull & an' Bush ".


Tha's 'appy wi mi Ilkla Mooar Bah 'at.

The Ol Pie Shops gone Tits Up

By 'Eck Them wir thi days

Av’ ‘erd a bit o’ gossip today.

Seems that ol' pie toms,dah'n hi street as' gone belly up.

I dah’na what ‘appened thir.

Bin thir fer years. Doing well an 'all wa’ Sid bloke that runs spot. A touch on’t scruffy side, mind thi, a bit ‘t fond o’t lasses fer mi liking. Allu’ s feelin’ ‘em up on t’ side. A bit of a perv , arr Bert used t’ say.

A prop’a corner shop it wir' back th'n, used t’ get a good sarni thir.

Selt all sorts, an’all. Boiled hamm used t’melt in yer marth. Pie n Peas weshed dahn, wi’ a glass o’t tizer.

Tha' h wir mi favourite. Finished off wi’a park drive, and a snog. We all used t’ ‘uddle together in t’ corner, ‘av' a rite laugh wi did.

Aye great it wah. All gone nah!

Mi mate Madge, used to work thir. Sh’telled t’tale frem ‘t thread ter needle would Madge, salt o thi ‘erth.

She reckons t’s ‘em downshifters mitherin. Allus summat up wi’ ‘em.

One of ‘em av bin bragging a'baht thir bloggin’ n stuff. Yud think thi owned t ‘place, way thi carries on.

Thi daft stuff thi ask fer.` Do you have any cannelloni and asaparagus mornay, topped off with a dusting of Peruvian-dog turd crumble’, said one of ‘em , or `possibly you may have , deep fried outa-mongolian feta, with a sprinkling of caramilised mountaian goat’.

Nah t’s a bloody pie shop, ger ‘oer it.

None o'em talk bloody English, said Madge, t’s no bloody wonder place ‘as gone tits up.

Aye Madge- thah’s rite!!

By 'Eck that looks grand !!

Desperate H`oss - Wives

Arr Berts `Obby `Oss (all `And Made)

Nahadays, times is `ard.
Mi daughter Norma , as a mate, who runs a small riding school. Well it belongs to `er hubby . Rupert thi call `im. Bit of a sackless sod, if you ask mi, allus got monk on. His Mam named `im after that daft bear Sis it all.

Gorra a few ideas above `is station `as Rupert. Still `es done alrite, giving lessons , to summa of `em southern downshifters kids . He gave sum lessons to `t woman wi `t book `Wife in the North 'she calls it. Silly Beggar.

Now`t but complain thi dah!! , just cos Rupert aint gor any real `osses yet. What`s wrong wi` `obby `osses . There would be a rite `t do if one of em bairns fell off a real `oss. Na laking , it `appened to Superman, and `e broke `is Kriptonite. Nah `ealth n saftely would `av a fit, not to mention Insurance premium going through`t roof.

Arr Bert`s dun a grand job mekin `em `osses en all. Found an oll clothes `oss in`t coil oil, covered it in`t foam, stuck some fake fur on it, smashing thi arr .

Still, I bet them downshifters kids weren`t like `em let alone laik wi `em.

Younguns thi`s days, thi dern`t nah thi born!!