Our Janie

This dialogue was written in a Bristolion accent (sounds kind of like an English farmer). It was also written from two points of view...


Our Janie:

"It's a bit freezin' down ere eh Grandad, best go 'ome in a bit. Them boys'll be 'ere in a minute 'n'all - I 'ate them lads. They'm always whistlin' and shoutin'... I jus' wanna sit down 'ere wiv me Grandad and enjoy the silence of the cemetary. Jeese, it don't half smell like dog shit down 'ere eh Grandad!"

I just sat for a while, listenin' to the wind blow past my ears and through my hair . i grasped the oval shaped locket that hung aorund my neck containing a lock of hair and a picture of Grandad George and crouched down to say goodbye:
"I'm off now Grandad, better leave before those nasty lads be turnin' up eh!"
I saw the three local yobs making there way through Haycombe gates and decided to get out of there quickly. I tell you, it ain't wise to cross them three.

I placed my hand on Grandad's rock and leant inward:
"Alright, bye then Grandad. I'll see you tomorrow!"
I pretended Grandad could hear me and in my mind I could hear him saying, "what's better than one kiss Janie?"
So I quietly whispered, "two kisses Grandad" and walked on 'ome.



Grandad George:

There'm she is, my angel. It gets so lonely down 'ere when no one comes to visit, but just li' clo'work - ev'ry Sunday and Monday, there our Janie is - my pride and joy.
"Alright Grandad?"

I love the way she still asks 'ow I am even though I can' tell 'er I'm doin' jus' fine, an' the way she'm always leavin me sumfin' nice; a no'e, a flower, a pack o' cards, or some travel sweets. Of course when she comes back the followin' week it's either mouldy, dead, or stolen - but it's the thought that counts.

I'd love to ask 'er why 'er mother never comes an' visits. Our Janie always says, "she sends 'er love" but you'd think Annie would want to come down to the cemetary and visit 'er ol' Dad ev'ry once in a while.

Fifteen she must be now; our Janie. My angel's a proper little lady now eh! She'll be avin' them young lads runnin' in cricles will our Janie. She gets that long blonde 'air from 'er mother - our Annie 'ad beautiful 'air.

"It don't half smell like dog shit down 'ere eh Grandad!'
DON'T YOU USE THAT KIN' O' LANGUAGE WITH ME YOUNG LADY! IF YOU'M NOT CAREFUL I'LL WASH YOUR MOUTH OUT WITH SOAP!'

Sometimes I forget that I am here and she is there. I miss my Janie with her unintentional wit, beautiful presence and innocence. If I could, I would wrap 'er up in my 'ol coa' and keep 'er warm an' safe forever, far away from them 'ere lo'al lads. If they ever near touch my grandaughter, I swear, I will climb ou' o' this 'ere pit and beat the livin' daylights ou' o' they ungrateful sods.
"I'm off now Grandad, better leave before those nasty lads turn up!"
I wish she didn' 'av to leave because of they'm. Our Janie 'as a beautiful voice - I could jus' lay 'ere and listen to my angel talk for an eternity; not abou' anythin' in paricular - jus' abou' 'er day at school, what 'er mum cooked 'er for breakie, what the Rovers v City score was on Saturday - jus' the stuff we used to talk abou' on Sundays when she used to come over for Sunday grub. Our Janie always loved 'er Grandad's roast 'tatoes. 'Ome grown I'll 'av you know.

She don't think she'm clever enough for school our Janie, but by God I'll tell you she don't half work those li'le socks off of 'ers. She may not be the sharpest tool in 'er ol' Grandad's shed, but she's the shiniest - I know my girl's gonna go far. Even if she ends up bein' a postman like 'er Grandad, she'm always bein' my little star.

"Alright, bye then Grandad. I'll see you tomorrow.'
Bye my flower... What's better than one kiss Janie?
"Two kisses Grandad."
I'll always save my two kisses for our Janie for when we meet again.