Gin an i'

“Ah’ll av a gin in there, luv. Mother’s ruin; never ruined mah lahf, yer no. Ah dun’t no wot’t problem is wi’ alco ol these days. When Ah worra lass (an it in’t tha’ long ago!) mi mam useter gi’ us a dose o gin bifor bed an wi wer nun the werse.

This singer’s no’ much cop, is shi? Ah cud do be’er meself. Ah shuda bin a singer, Ah can bel’ em out. Shirley Bassey were mi dad’s faverit. Shi wares sum luvli frocks: all gli’er an feathers, an shi’s a luvli voice on ‘er.

Ah go’ a dress lahk tha’ frum’t market last week, bu’ Ah avn’t ad chance ter ware it. Ah shuda purrit on ternite an go’ up fo’t karioky. Wot? Thi not ‘avin wun? Yer can’t av a good nite wi’out karioky. Ernie must be payin’ er sum brass ter sing, then. No wunder shi can afford frocks lahk tha’.

Ah allus go down’t market fer mi dresses. No point payin’ fer labels an names, unless it’s a wedding or a funeral. Then Ah’ll go for sumware designer, yer no, lahk Primark or New Look. Ah’v got’t cash ter splash when Ah need ter.

Yeh, Ah’v gorra gud job. Ah werk in tha’ big office block righ’ next t’t bus station. Ah type’t le’ers an mek sanwijiz wen thiz a meeting. Thi useter gerrem frum’t bakery round’t corner, bu’ Ah sed, “Yer dunt wanna do tha’, Ah can mekem cheaper!” I nip int’t shop by us, or Ne’’o if Ah’m late an ge’ sum o’ that economy white – Ah luv it wi drippin n marmite – an yer cn usually ge’ ‘am or chikin in them packits on’t shelf ware thi’r sellin it off on’t last day o’t sell-by date. Ah pu’ pickle in or picerlili (if it’s sumwun posh) an Ah ge’ buns. If thi’r feelin a bit ‘elth conscioius, Ah ge’ flapjacks – Ah dun’t lahk them, thi stick under mi plate.

Yeh! Dincher no? These three ‘ere; ‘ad ‘em knocked out at the Spinner’s Arms wen ah wo’ thir’een. Go’ these on’t National ‘Elth, thi’r rite good, yer no; yer can’t tell thi’r no’ mahn til Ah tekem ou’. Look a’ tha’ workmanship, jus lahk’t real thing. Thi do rub a bi’ if Ah’v ‘ad nuts, bu’if nowun’s in’t office Ah tekem ou’. Thi can’t tell wen Ah answer’t phone.

Yeh, it’s ded posh ware Ah werk. Thi all ‘av big cars an everything; mek mah Mercedes look crap. An thi’r reely gud abou’ mi ours, cos Ah werk all’t ours god sends, yer no. No, bu’ if Ah’v an emergency, mi boss alwez lets mi go erly. Lahk last week wen Ah wor waitin’ fo’t plumber ter come t’t bathroom. Don’t tap washer’s cost a lo’? Wot? No, just the wun on’t cold in’t sink.

Then two days bifor tha’ it were ar Wayne. Luckily, Ah din’t aveter pay bail this tahm. ‘E’s a bugger wen ‘e’s ‘ad a drop, bu’ wo’ lad in’t? Three days bifor tha’ i’ worris bruther: Ah sed, “Well, ‘e’s gotta mek a livin!” Thi say yung people aren’t enterprising, but Ah tell yer, Ah wudn’t o used tha’ loft for owt else, an i’ kept’t ‘ouse warm!

You see wo’ Ah mean, Ah no. Wo’? ‘Bout three weeks off in all, bu’ thi dun’t mahnd, t’others alwez cuver fo’ mi, an mi boss in’t in tha’ much anyway, so ah can usually ge’ off erly.

Ah dun’t no ware ar Brian’s go’ to. Ah left ‘im a’ ‘ome an’e sed e’d be ‘ere in ‘alf an our. ‘E’s packin’ fo’t olidiz. Ah go’ a new bikini this tahm tho. Ah mean, Ah though’ i’ worra gud idea wen Ah ferogrrit last tahm ter use three ‘ankies an tha’ string wi go’ frum’t garden cen’re in Scarborough, but’t lifeguard won’t so ‘appi, silly bugger. I’ go’ mi a few whistles, Ah cn tell yer.

Is she still singin’? Tell Ernie Ah wannaravago. Did ‘e? Well, tell ‘im ter pae mi no’ ter sing then – haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!

Ar Shireen’s avin’ anuther, yer no. S’lahk shellin’ peas wi’er. Ah sed terar Terry, “Dun’t shi no wo’ causes i’?” ‘E sed, “Well, shi’d fergo’’en ter tek er pill fer a for’nite an’ wi’d bin doin’ i’ anyway so shi though’ wun more won’t ert.” Shi’s a daft mare, tha’s six now. Mahnd you, shi duz alrite fo’t benefi’. Shi won’t ever need a job. An wot wi wot ar Terry brings in thi’r alrite. Yer wo’? Oh, ‘e uses ‘is gran’s attic now.
Shi’z a wunder, shi is! Mah muther will live ter bi nahnty, yer no. Strong as an ‘orse. She useter werk on’t docks. Wo’? No, shi were a packer, an shi ‘ad a job cathin’ rats at wun tahm. O’ course wen’t strikes weron shi ‘ad ter mek ends meet, bu’ we kids never wen’ wi’out, an’ shi sed sum o’ them sailors were nahce blokes an’ paid well.

No, shi never le’ us go wi’out fish fingers or chips. Ah can still ge’ a bi’ tearful wen ar Brian pu’s a plate ovem in fruntomi.

No, thi don’ mekem lahk ‘er ani more. Shi giv berth to ar Sheila on’t dock, yer no. Yeh, just go’ down, ou’ shi cem, popped ‘ome fer a cuppa an’ pu’ littl’un in’t cot an shi wo back on’t packin’ line an our la’er. Honest, Ah tell no werd of a lie!

Ooh, Ah dun’t lahk tha’ frock shiz gorron nah. Wimin ‘er age shudn’t ware puce. Ah prefer a dusty pink myself, s’more fla’’erin. Ah’. Gunna tellim no’ ter gerrer in agen, shiz crap; ‘e can pay me next tahm.

Now then, Brian, ware’v you bin? Is i’? Well, did yer call’t fire brigade? Jus’ le’ mi finish mi gin. Right, i’ shud be burnin’ well bah now – you call’t firemen while Ah ge’ ‘old of’t insurance man. See yer!

© Martin J Saxton 2009