SALLY JAMES The best PIECE OF PROSE in Lancashire Dialect
The winner of the Harry Craven Cup
Mollie’s Meanderings
Well here ah am sat in mi cheer bit winder, t’carer’s just bin an geet mi ready so a’ll no deawt bi ‘ere all day on mi own unless sumby calls bu’ ah reckon they’ll not.
Onnyroad ‘ave geet mi memories keep mi comp’ny. When tha thinks on it, the’s more years behind mi neaw than ther’ ar’ i’ front o’ mi, bur it comes to us all i’ time so I’ll noan worry abeawt it. ‘ave lived ‘ere all mi life born ‘n bred i’ this street, eeh ‘ave sin some comin’s un gooin’s.
Ah remember when ah wheer o young un mi grandma seyin’ “ Hey hast tha read this in t’papper it ses ‘ere that St Nats, church ‘s bin moved overneet.” Weel wi all went eawtside un gawp at it. Weel heaw did thi do that mi auntie Maggie said weighin’ it up wi’ ‘er ‘ead cocked toh one side. Then mi mam said “Weel ah never ‘eard um move it, un ah lives nearer than thee.” “Weel ah thinks it’s a bit mooer toh left neaw ah comes toh think o’ it,” mi Auntie Hannah said as ‘er waddled intoh back yard.
Ah weer only abeawt six then un ‘ad just startin’ readin’ un ah knew folks reawnd ‘ere wer’ o bit gullible like un would belief eawt tha towd um or read in t’papper but movin’ a huge church steeple overneet wer’ just too much fer even’t me toh believe. So ah looks at t’papper agen an’ ah solved puzzle whilst they were all in t’backyard still gawpin’ at church. Ah towd um " ‘ave a look in’t papper agen,” then ah ‘eard um laughin’ i’ disbelief. It were in t‘fifty years ago column back in t’early nineteen ‘undereds. In them days the were an owd corrugated iron church tha’ the’ used toh use whilst new un wer’ bein’ built an’ that were t’one the’ shifted overneet, not the one wit’ t’big church steeple. Eeh some things tha ne’er forgeets un that weer one of um.
The’s sommut abeawt Wiggin folks especially t’ women that wer’ allus a bit niave, a bit backards ert commin forrads if that knows wor ah mean. The’ were’ daicent folk i’ them days, hard workin’ an God fearin’. Not like they ar’ neaw
Neaw look ert them young uns walkin’ deawn street neaw wi the skirts up toh the backsides and their busts ‘angin’ eawt, eeh mi mam ud ‘ave ‘ad o fit if onny of us ‘ad er gone eawt lookin’ like that. Trollops shid cor um un as common as muck un slopstone blondes as well. But they’re all at it these days un nob’dy seems toh bother. ‘ave sin um fallin’ abeawt in’t middle o t’cart road Friday neets after pubs’ave shut, as drunk as flamin’ mops un thi ‘ave babies too awhoam wor ‘ave no dad’s. Ah knows times change but nor allus fert best.
Un I’ll tell thi summat else, road eawtside this heawse used toh bi cobbled but neaw it’s tarmacked un wi’ ‘pot ‘oles in it wheer thi keep diggin’ it up an’ layin pipes er summat. Aye un trams use toh run past ‘ere years ago un t‘funny thing is the’re layin’ a knew metro link on’t main road neaw wi’ cables over ‘ead just like t’owd trams ‘ad.
Eeh ah ‘ope somb’dy comes tohday, it ud bi nice’toh ‘ave sombdy chat too. ‘ave geet mi telly an’ ah con waatch wor ah wants when ah like but the’s nowt like o’ bit o company.
Eeh tha ud laugh ert this though it’s not really funny bur again it’s true. Afoor ah weer born when mi dad were a young un he lived in o place called “Clinkey Valley”. Neaw don’t asked mi why thi called it that cos ah don’t really know. It weren’t a valley as such it were just set back oft main road in er bit on o field. It weer ‘appen a bit posher theer but ah don’t really know, Onnyroad durin’ war Gerrys use toh drop onny stray bombs thi ‘ad on t’flight back toh Germany after bombin’ Liverpoo’.
One dropped i’ mi dads back yard un blew all back ert t’heawse in, bur mi dad wer’ in t’petty at t’ time which were at t’bottom o t’yard. It weer one o them owd middens type cos water closets ‘addn’t come toh that part o’ Wiggin yet. Mi dad were’ safe enough though cos petty dooer fell on ‘im an’ saved ‘is life. He escaped wi just o few cuts un bruises so that were o’ good job. If it had bin different then ah wouldna bin ‘ere toh tell thi t’tale.
A week later the were o joke gooin’ areawnd Wiggin Hipp that Germans wer’ flyin’ ore Wiggin un saw a building marked WC so bombed it cos thi thowt it stood fer Winston Churchill. Foaks ‘ad toh ‘ave sommut smile abeawt i’them days.
Thi don’t know the born these days, neaw just look at um theer, he’s not workin’ i’ ses bur is short er nowt un thi ‘ave an heawse full o’ kids too, an’ thi all ‘ave mobile phones and a big screen tele. Kids o allus kickin’ th’ dam football intoh mi gardin’ ‘ave banged on t’winder monny o time but thi jus pull the faces un run off.
Ah suppose ‘ave some need talk missel though cos eawr kids ‘ave done the fair share o’ kickin balls i’ foak’s garden’s i’ the time. Neaw the’s grandkids givin’ mi trouble doin’ just same. Eeh the’s soh monny of um neaw ah don’t know which is which an heaw owd thi all are. Ah ‘m allus glad toh see um when thi come to visit but ah’m fain when thiv gone.
Eeh bi thi eck just look whose commin’ deawn eawr path its eawr Billy mi youngest, mi babby . Lovely lad he allus thinks a lor abeawt ‘is mam. Eeh ‘ad best put kettle on. Ah con just abeawt ger abeawt wi’ this walkin’ frame. Ah‘m nor altogether ‘elpless tha knows. Onnyroad it’s bin nice gooin’ back o’er mi memories, it passes time and keeps mi mind occupied.
Ah thinks i’ Wiggin dialect tha sees as weel as speyckin’ in it, allus ‘ave done, Tha knows seyin’ “Tha con tek a lass eawt er Wiggin but tha cornt tek Wiggin eawt o’ t’lass”, weel that’s me. Though mi dad ud go mad if he ‘eard mi neaw. He said once “ Ah don’t know weer tha gets that talk from, cos there’s no one in this heawse speycks broad like thee does!
Sally James
The winner of the Harry Craven Cup
Mollie’s Meanderings
Well here ah am sat in mi cheer bit winder, t’carer’s just bin an geet mi ready so a’ll no deawt bi ‘ere all day on mi own unless sumby calls bu’ ah reckon they’ll not.
Onnyroad ‘ave geet mi memories keep mi comp’ny. When tha thinks on it, the’s more years behind mi neaw than ther’ ar’ i’ front o’ mi, bur it comes to us all i’ time so I’ll noan worry abeawt it. ‘ave lived ‘ere all mi life born ‘n bred i’ this street, eeh ‘ave sin some comin’s un gooin’s.
Ah remember when ah wheer o young un mi grandma seyin’ “ Hey hast tha read this in t’papper it ses ‘ere that St Nats, church ‘s bin moved overneet.” Weel wi all went eawtside un gawp at it. Weel heaw did thi do that mi auntie Maggie said weighin’ it up wi’ ‘er ‘ead cocked toh one side. Then mi mam said “Weel ah never ‘eard um move it, un ah lives nearer than thee.” “Weel ah thinks it’s a bit mooer toh left neaw ah comes toh think o’ it,” mi Auntie Hannah said as ‘er waddled intoh back yard.
Ah weer only abeawt six then un ‘ad just startin’ readin’ un ah knew folks reawnd ‘ere wer’ o bit gullible like un would belief eawt tha towd um or read in t’papper but movin’ a huge church steeple overneet wer’ just too much fer even’t me toh believe. So ah looks at t’papper agen an’ ah solved puzzle whilst they were all in t’backyard still gawpin’ at church. Ah towd um " ‘ave a look in’t papper agen,” then ah ‘eard um laughin’ i’ disbelief. It were in t‘fifty years ago column back in t’early nineteen ‘undereds. In them days the were an owd corrugated iron church tha’ the’ used toh use whilst new un wer’ bein’ built an’ that were t’one the’ shifted overneet, not the one wit’ t’big church steeple. Eeh some things tha ne’er forgeets un that weer one of um.
The’s sommut abeawt Wiggin folks especially t’ women that wer’ allus a bit niave, a bit backards ert commin forrads if that knows wor ah mean. The’ were’ daicent folk i’ them days, hard workin’ an God fearin’. Not like they ar’ neaw
Neaw look ert them young uns walkin’ deawn street neaw wi the skirts up toh the backsides and their busts ‘angin’ eawt, eeh mi mam ud ‘ave ‘ad o fit if onny of us ‘ad er gone eawt lookin’ like that. Trollops shid cor um un as common as muck un slopstone blondes as well. But they’re all at it these days un nob’dy seems toh bother. ‘ave sin um fallin’ abeawt in’t middle o t’cart road Friday neets after pubs’ave shut, as drunk as flamin’ mops un thi ‘ave babies too awhoam wor ‘ave no dad’s. Ah knows times change but nor allus fert best.
Un I’ll tell thi summat else, road eawtside this heawse used toh bi cobbled but neaw it’s tarmacked un wi’ ‘pot ‘oles in it wheer thi keep diggin’ it up an’ layin pipes er summat. Aye un trams use toh run past ‘ere years ago un t‘funny thing is the’re layin’ a knew metro link on’t main road neaw wi’ cables over ‘ead just like t’owd trams ‘ad.
Eeh ah ‘ope somb’dy comes tohday, it ud bi nice’toh ‘ave sombdy chat too. ‘ave geet mi telly an’ ah con waatch wor ah wants when ah like but the’s nowt like o’ bit o company.
Eeh tha ud laugh ert this though it’s not really funny bur again it’s true. Afoor ah weer born when mi dad were a young un he lived in o place called “Clinkey Valley”. Neaw don’t asked mi why thi called it that cos ah don’t really know. It weren’t a valley as such it were just set back oft main road in er bit on o field. It weer ‘appen a bit posher theer but ah don’t really know, Onnyroad durin’ war Gerrys use toh drop onny stray bombs thi ‘ad on t’flight back toh Germany after bombin’ Liverpoo’.
One dropped i’ mi dads back yard un blew all back ert t’heawse in, bur mi dad wer’ in t’petty at t’ time which were at t’bottom o t’yard. It weer one o them owd middens type cos water closets ‘addn’t come toh that part o’ Wiggin yet. Mi dad were’ safe enough though cos petty dooer fell on ‘im an’ saved ‘is life. He escaped wi just o few cuts un bruises so that were o’ good job. If it had bin different then ah wouldna bin ‘ere toh tell thi t’tale.
A week later the were o joke gooin’ areawnd Wiggin Hipp that Germans wer’ flyin’ ore Wiggin un saw a building marked WC so bombed it cos thi thowt it stood fer Winston Churchill. Foaks ‘ad toh ‘ave sommut smile abeawt i’them days.
Thi don’t know the born these days, neaw just look at um theer, he’s not workin’ i’ ses bur is short er nowt un thi ‘ave an heawse full o’ kids too, an’ thi all ‘ave mobile phones and a big screen tele. Kids o allus kickin’ th’ dam football intoh mi gardin’ ‘ave banged on t’winder monny o time but thi jus pull the faces un run off.
Ah suppose ‘ave some need talk missel though cos eawr kids ‘ave done the fair share o’ kickin balls i’ foak’s garden’s i’ the time. Neaw the’s grandkids givin’ mi trouble doin’ just same. Eeh the’s soh monny of um neaw ah don’t know which is which an heaw owd thi all are. Ah ‘m allus glad toh see um when thi come to visit but ah’m fain when thiv gone.
Eeh bi thi eck just look whose commin’ deawn eawr path its eawr Billy mi youngest, mi babby . Lovely lad he allus thinks a lor abeawt ‘is mam. Eeh ‘ad best put kettle on. Ah con just abeawt ger abeawt wi’ this walkin’ frame. Ah‘m nor altogether ‘elpless tha knows. Onnyroad it’s bin nice gooin’ back o’er mi memories, it passes time and keeps mi mind occupied.
Ah thinks i’ Wiggin dialect tha sees as weel as speyckin’ in it, allus ‘ave done, Tha knows seyin’ “Tha con tek a lass eawt er Wiggin but tha cornt tek Wiggin eawt o’ t’lass”, weel that’s me. Though mi dad ud go mad if he ‘eard mi neaw. He said once “ Ah don’t know weer tha gets that talk from, cos there’s no one in this heawse speycks broad like thee does!
Sally James