“It’s always nice to have snow before Christmas.”
“Allus nice te hev snaar afore San’a comes.”
Take your pick as to the spelling, but we talk, tak, speak, spak different here.
Geraniums are still in flower in the sheds and polytunnels down the Fishbone, and none of the brussels have frosted. The bulbs we all planted last year down around Dalton play park are coming up, sightless and spindly wet.
There’s not enough snaar te mak a snaarman and it aal melted off by the neet, but it’s the start of winter proper, mid January.
She thought about putting out the washing this af’noon, the sun was awa bleendin’, but stepping out over the slippery back step to a puddle of ice, thowt better on it.