Cheese Factory

It was 1973 and I was working in the largest cheese Factory in
Europe. This was situated, and still is for all I know, in the tiny mid
Devon village of North Tawton.

I'd already lost all track of time as I often worked double shifts in a
room with no windows. I'd fallen into a vast vat of two day old cheese,
become an expert at a simple game called 'spoof' and smelt as one would
imagine a cheese factory worker to smell.

It was either morning tea break or afternoon tea break - I had no idea
which - when a little old man I'd seen before but who worked in another
section unknown and unseen to me called me over.

Now you have to add the strong Devon accent of your own.

"Oi 'ear you come frum Lunnon," he said.

"I've been there," I reply "and my mother lives there now but I live in
Coleford, just down the road."

"Oi've been wunnerin' a while. Could 'ee 'elp oi on this 'un?"

"Of course! If I can."

"Oi've been to Ex'ter twoice in moi loife. 'Tis a mighty big place,
'innit? Dun' loike it, oi. An' oiv'e been at Kirton (the local name for
Crediton) a fair 'andfull of toimes but oi ain't never been to
Lunnon."

"Oh," I reply, "It's much bigger than Exeter."

"Well, oi seen it on the telly, loike, an' it fair confuses oi."

"Quite understandable."

"So tell moi. If it be that big, 'ow long's the 'Igh Street?"