Yorkshire Dialect: Facin’ a ‘oliday Battle
Mike Shaw’s dialect tale tells of minds failing to meet.
Yar Ethel an’ me finally gate raand ter talkin’ abaat ‘olidays at t’ weekend.
Ethel’s been natterin’ at me fer weeks ter decahde where we’re gooin’ an’ wen.
Shoo sed it wer abaat tahme we went a bit further afield ner Blackpool an’ Morecambe where we usually gooa.
“Ah reckon we should trah t’ Saath coast fer a change,” shee telled me. “It’s nearly allis warmer daan theer, an’ at some spots tha can ‘ave a day trip across t’ Channel.”
“Aye, but ther’s a lot moore fowk araand, especially in t’ school ‘olidays,” Ah replahd.
“We’ve nooan been ter Bridlington fer a year or two, an’ we’re nooan on a coach awl day ter get theer.”
Ethel sed shoo fair lahked ter travel a bit. “It’s awl part o’ th’ ‘oliday ter me. Tha gets ter see awl t’ countrysahde, an’ they’ve a few stops on t’ way sooa tha can stretch thi legs.
“Ah know tha lahkes sailin’, sooa we could allis get a ferry ter Ostend or somewhere asteead o’ gooin’ through t’ Channel.”
Ah lit up mi pahpe an’ telled ‘er Ah wer nooan ser keen on mixin’ wi’ a load o’ foreigners.
“Wen tha gets saath o’ Watford ther’s fowk fra awl ovver t’ shop on ‘oliday theer. A lot of ‘em are Germans, an’ tha knows wat that means. Th’ ooanly tahme we’ve beaten t’ Jerries ter t’ beach wer at Dunkirk.”
