Jud’s Jottings: Inter future

Be’ind ‘ouse are fields and some days I tek mesen off forra ‘ike. I say ‘ike. It’s more like a brisk walk. I say a brisk walk. It’s more like a stroll. I say stroll. It’s more like a meander. T’be ‘onest it’s more to do wi’ gerrin outta ‘ouse, usually when Gerts bakin’. Don’t get me wrong, ‘oze a gud cook burram alluz in road. So, last Thozdee ‘er gets ‘er cake tins out an’ I thought t’mesen ‘time to mek messen scarce’.

It were a nice day so I took me bacca an’ some papers wi’ idea of ‘avin’ a quiet smoke at top o’ ‘ill. There’s a bench an’ y’ get smashin’ views down valley. If thaz lucky thi can see Mrs. Horton ‘avin’ a shower. Wi’ that in mind, I settled down an’ lit up.

It were at this point that I saw this bloke comin’ towards me. I squinted inter sun when ‘e sed “Aye up Jud.” It were older Eric’s eldest, young Eric. “’ow are you?”

I sed I were all rate an’ I said “’ow are you?” an’ ‘e sez “I’m all rate.”

‘avin’ established we were both rate, I noticed ‘e ‘ad a greyhound wi’ ‘im.

“Nice dog,” I sed.

“Aye,” ‘e sez.

“Does ‘e ‘ave a name?”

“Usain,” Eric sed. The way it were be’avin’ it were more like insain.

“I’m gooin t’ race ‘im,” Eric sed.

Now I couldn’t see sense in that. No matter ‘ow ‘ard ‘e tried, young Eric were never gooin to beat a grey’ound.

I sed t’ Eric ‘e looked a bit tired an ‘e sed ‘e’d ‘ad a funny wick. Tonns out  ‘e were purrin’ ‘is daughter t’ bed last Friday an’ she sed ‘er prayers. O ended wi’ “rest in peace Grandad”.

Followin’ day Grandad dade. Satdee nate ‘e purra t’bed agen an’ she sed ‘er prayers an’ shi sed “rest in peace Grammer”. Following day Grammer dade. By this stage young Eric were thinkin’ ‘er could see inter future.

Young Eric tode ‘is Missus an’ she said she thought it were coincidence. That nate, young Eric purriz daughter t’ bed and she sed ‘er prayers. Young Eric were on landin’ when ‘e ‘eard ‘er say “rest in peace Daddy”. That threw ‘im inter a rate panic. ‘e run downstairs an’tode wife what ‘e’d ‘eard. Shi laughed an’ tode ‘im ‘e were bein’ daft.

Monday, young Eric guzz off t’work an’ ‘e’s rate whittled. ‘e keeps ‘is ‘ead down burree keeps thinkin’ ‘e’s gooin’ t’ day. When clock clicks round t’ five ‘e jumps in car an’ drives ‘om… very slowly and very carefuly. ‘e gets ‘om an’ parks up. ‘e’s rate chuffed and ‘e can’t but laugh. Surely nowt can ‘appen now. Any’ow, ‘e guzz in ‘ouse full o’ joys o’ spring. Wifes sittin’ on sofa an’ young Eric bounds up to ‘er an sez “Look, look, I’m alive.”

That’s when ‘e notices ‘is Missus is sobbin’.

Young Eric puts ‘is arm round ‘er an’ sez “What’s up duck?”

Shi wipes ‘er eyes an’ blows ‘er nose an sez “Milkmans died.”