More chatter

Well here I am again. Thought you’d seen the last of me I bet. No such luck me duck it will take more than a cold spell to carry me off. Lord though, it’s been rather a dire dithersome day or two since I sat down here last.See, since that young chit from London come to see me, her who wouldn’t touch me biscuits cos of her wheat allergies, I haven’t been able to find me glasses anywhere.

Now mind, I am not saying she stoled them. But you have to be watchful with these London folks they’d steal your flannel knickers if they thought some idiot would buy ‘um off ‘em. Last Spring Thomas Bunter, him who fell under the combine when he were no more than a nipper and lost a foot, never believe it to see him play football you wouldn’t, T’is amazing what they can do these here days with them prospothetiwotsits things at the hospital, it really is. Well any roads, he had this London bloke come around the farm snooping and he says he’s after olden times farm stuff, hay forks and the like and he tells Thomas he’ll pay gurt good money for ‘em. So Thomas flogs him some old churns, a couple of hay forks and an old broken plough that he told him was used for cutting turnips and the stupid bugger paid him eight hundred quid for the lot. Gurt idiot!

Anyway, me glasses as I said has gone missing, which is a real bugger I can tell you, and it’s been damp with all the rain and that. Right windy it’s been here it has, s’pect Mother Nature been living on cabbage soup like I has, wonderful good stuff for to ward off winter chills, but darn’t ‘alf make you windy it does.

Well what with the wind and rain my poor hands ain’t been so good, you look at ‘em, me dearie dear, naught but knobbly things my knuckles, like some twisted old tree I am. So no way I could do no nothing of any sorts at all so I just had to be sat here by the fire, chewing me teeth and thinking on things. Don’t do a body no good to be stuck in doors a thinking when she ought to be out in the air a doing stuff.

Missed the last of the Elderberries I did and that are a bad thing. Nothing like a good glass of Elderberry cordial with a tot of brandy or gin to keep a chest clear, good job our Fanny got us some goose fat from the market over Marlborough way last winter, dollop a bit of that stuff on yer chest and wrap yernself in flannel and germs won’t come near you all winter. Mind, by April it don’t ‘alf pong a bit.

Now you go and put the kettle on for me, and make a cup of tea for me there’s a dear and see if you can’t ‘ave a poke about and see if you 'men find me specs anywhere. Go on up with you, Old woman could die of thirst waiting for you to shift your behind you lazy gurt trollop.