Wednesday, January 03, 2018

On The Ninth Day Of Christmas

2 comments:

hatfield girl said...

Birmingham is a surprise always S, I never really got over the language, never mind the accent, in everyday use (hush me mouth) and though I never managed it the children mastered it completely from school - they can still burst out in Brum leaving their father foxed and me struggling.

I miss it, the amounts of gin and tonic downed as an aperitivo, the lovely houses and gardens, the croquet, the walking history not just of sites and ruined factories but of families, entire city sectors, etc. But I fear it's another time machine, and 'writ large' in Birmingham's case. The Brum we saw is gone in life now. Peaky Blinders was such a shock when we were given it for Christmas; our Brum is closer to that than the modern city, apart from little outbreaks like your post (and even then those elderly ladies look travestite (to borrow a word). Still, I did know ladies capable of that and truly what they seemed when I was there.

Anyway - I'm a'right, you a'right? And a happy new year S.

Sackerson said...

Didn't know you knew Brum, HG! I've only been here since 1975 so still learning and my gosh it's changed.

I'm orroight, bostin' in fact (though you don't hear that any more).

I haven't a clue what's going on in Italy - could you be prevailed upon to do us a conspectus? Would love it if you could.

Best wishes for a happy, healthy 2018.