WELL, we've survived the siege – iss, the snow I d'mean. We thought we 'ad it bad down 'ere in Newlyn, but it was nawthin' to what they poor souls up the country 'ad, and I d'mean they that d'live up Cambern and beyond..
We 'ad snaw sure nuff, but what kept we isolated was the freezin' cold wind, easterly a was, that froze up all the pavements. The roads were clear nuff, buses, runnin' throughout, but what was the use of that if you were riskin' life an' lemb to get to the bus stops?
Still, Alfred and me took what they call a "window of opportunity" and managed to get across the road and stocked up with enough meat and vegatables an' that sort of thing so that we could sit it out. Bream cold it was though, wadn'a. I done a bit of washin' one day, 'ung it out under the linney to dry, an' it froze like soldiers right away. Alfred went out to git a couple of logs for the fire, and got scat round the ear'ole with the leg of 'is long underpants.
Boy Michael come in with a bag of logs for us, cos ee was afraid we were going to suffer from this 'ere 'ypothermia.
"Guss on with ee," I said to 'im, "we're real snug, 'specially at night, we do go to bed with the duvette on us, three blankets an' two 'ot water bottles. I've made plenty of licky broth and stew as well."
Mind, there was one day, when there 'ad bin nuff sun to melt some of the ice so we took another opportunity to go for a bit of a walk. Well, I was beginnin' to feel like a kipper, with Alfred settin' there by the fire all day long smokin' 'is dirty git pipe. I decided that we needed fresh air in our lungs, so we went overlong towards the Prom. We thought it would be a bit more sheltered from the easterly wind if we went in along the lanes. We were doin' very well until we come to a git patch of ice, and we were debatin' whether to turn back or no, when I 'eard this little family comin' along. I 'eard the mother saying to the cheldern: "We must always help poor ol' souls like they two old people ahead of us."
So when they come up to us and asked if they could see us over the ice, I felt as old as Methuselah. We were glad of a bit of 'elp and we thanked them very much, but when they was out of earsight I garmed: "Poor ol' souls, I edn goin' to be called that no more, we're goin' to make a revolution to git ourselves fit."
"Don't you mean resolution, Sarah Anne?" says Alfred.
"No," I said, "Cos it would take a revolution to git you off your backside to exercise. No more sleepin' by the fire with the Western Mornin' News in the afternoons for you, my son, we are goin' to take a walk every day."
Ee grumbled: "I wonder you don't suggest that we go to the gym place over the 'arbour."
"Don't be daft, Alfred," I said. "You got too big a belly an' I've got too big a behind to go tryin' to git into any of they there tight fittin' leggin' things that they do wear, both of us d'sag too much to go exposin' ourselves. No, we'll take a walk, as I decided. You can cut down on your bacca and I'll cut down on the nicey. We might be elderly, but we're goin' to be fit."
Alfred dedn' look very 'appy, an' I 'eard 'im mutterin' something like 'Dictator'."
Like I said, we survived the snow, but we caint go for no walk today because it's 'entin' down with rain and blowin' a gale of wind, so Alfred is sleepin' under the Western Mornin' News. Seems we're all back to normal again.
Now 'Ark Some More, Liz Harman's second volume of short stories, is published by Scryfa at £6. It is available from shops in Newlyn, Mousehole and Penzance or by writing to Liz Harman, 25 New Road, Newlyn, Cornwall TR18 5PZ. Cheques (£7, including p&p) should be made payable to E B Harman.
article copyright WESTERN MORNING NEWS