Deathly mist driftin’ Daw-lishwards, m’dears

IMG_1281 Don’t look too bad, do it? But t’were a darkly time on the number eleven trundling back from the bright Spring sunshine o’ Torquay to the darkling world o’ Dawlish. We were going’ along fine an’ happy like, right up to Babbacombe an’ beyond, even as far as Watcombe – but it was Maidencombe it all went awry wi’ the mist a gatherin’ in the fields an’ curlin’ up along the A379 like as if it were tryin’ t’engulf the number eleven an’ all of us in it. On we went, slower an’ slower until we were all so afeard that folks began talking to one another! Total strangers! Well, when I say talking, I mean talking a lot more’n they was dreckly prior. An’ when I say total strangers, I mean they all knew one another only in-dreckly, ‘cept for me who don’t know no-one dreckly or otherwise, being somewhat of a grockle, still. An’ so it went until we was approaching Shaldon, when out of the ghastly marine fog, my ‘andsomes, arose a huge, tumescent thingummybob! ‘Orrible it were and we was shoutin’ an’ screamin’ ziff to waken ole Bell-zeebubb hisself! An’ then…

Sod it. Have now totally exhausted my limited supply of cod Mummerset. Am back home, following a short shopping trip along the coast, nursing a socking great Scotch and ploughing on with CHAV VALLEY (working title). Watch this space but not too constantly, it may take a while.

This entry was posted in Contemporary Women's Fiction, Desperation, Devon, Humour, Life on the edge, Personal, Writing and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to Deathly mist driftin’ Daw-lishwards, m’dears

  1. Eddie says:

    So sorry to hear you’re a grockle, still! (Took me awhile to understand that English dialect. . . .)


  2. lynnemcv says:

    Har de har har, me dearioh, an’ lashin’s o’ Wess Country cheer t’thee my ‘ansome babe.


  3. I can see a book coming out of that amazing photograph with the ‘deathly mist’ Lynne. Looking forward to reading Chav Valley xxx


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