There's something Yorkshire there, or at least Northen, and my mum (or should that be mam) was a lady who went with full make up and head scarf. She was Yorkshire; I'm Welsh/Oxfordhire and dress like a farmer, so things change!When I were a Lad, every Mother went out wi' covered yead...Tha' knowest?
I daresay it were unseemly t'otherwise...
Oh, so very much this. Quiet Flows the Don? Sholokhov would have been surprised. As for The Don Flows Home to the Sea? A complete spun-from-whole-cloth fabrication to cover the fact that the first translation was not the whole story.That's the inherent issue with translations unfortunately: Remembrance of Things Past/In Search of Lost Time.
North Staffs (Potters), and Stockton on Tees Rerenny. As a child I listened to older people who still spoke potteries dialect that was deliberately strangled and savaged by 'em. (Cost kick a bo againt a wo an' then 'it it wi' thi yed till it bosses? )There's something Yorkshire there, or at least Northen, and my mum (or should that be mam) was a lady who went with full make up and head scarf. She was Yorkshire; I'm Welsh/Oxfordhire and dress like a farmer, so things change!
I'm going through one of those times where my usual ease in life has fucked off.Ever have one of those days where you feel you're being held up?
Yesterday I set off across town in a hurry. At the end of the road, when I looked up I saw a plane trailing one of those announcement banners.
I didn't stop to try to read it, thinking nothing'd better make me late! but after I turned left a hearse was being walked out of the undertakers'. The funeral director walks in front of the hearse for a few hundred yards and locals are used to it, but nooo, not today! Today!
Eventually the hearse stopped and picked up the funeral director and off they went, and turned right into the cemetery. The traffic moved on for a minute and reached a broken-down car with a pickup truck in front of it and some harried-looking workmen trying to move it. Eventually I got past this and turned again, and the road was blocked by a skip truck which seemed in no hurry to collect any skips. Words were muttered.
Took a detour and arrived barely on time to do the thing I was up to. In fact I was jokingly told 'You're the last, we're closing now, so thank you for coming and kindly piss off!'
It all finished well.
Raked the front yard. It's so hot and dry here all of the trees are losing their leaves. Looking from the inside out, you'd think it was Autumn.
I had to google 'chook'.True LL - it reduces transpiration - clever little sods, aren't they...
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This is one of my lovely Kurrajong's - this one is in the chook run - leaves everywhere, and don't the chooks love it. And these trees are endemic to this area, so god knows how deciduous trees are getting on.
If they're smart, they'll do as you describe and aestivate.
That's some kind of 'gang sign', I seem to recall.I saw a pair of trainers hanging over a telegraph wire in the street today.
This got me thinking- when was the last time I saw a pair of underpants up a tree? I feel as though that used to be a semi-regularly encountered phenomenon, haven't seen it for years now, maybe decades.
I thought the shoe lace tied trainers slung over cable thing started in the 60's in the US?The shoes slung over an overhead cable thing is usually characterized as an urban gang sign nowadays, but I can assure you it was a common prank in rural areas of the USA (no gangs to self-identify) over 60 years ago.