Wednesday, July 13, 2005

Frankie and Nelly

My legs hurt. She Who Must Be Obeyed said it's not the distance walked that counts but the speed employed. So this evening Francis Joseph Banjo and I headed up the Dreen Road at some speed. It was Paddy's turn to be walked but Rosie and he were being scunging devil dogs again and were off on some rabbit-bothering expedition.

It wasn't marching up the road that made my old joints ache. It was the descent that did the damage. Nevertheless after a short recovery period I took Frankie out through Bert's Baby Wood for another walk.

Frankie is a very short dog. His little legs are only about four inches long. Consequently when he is being walked through long grass be bounces along as if he is on springs. This is very amusing to watch. Now about two-thirds of the way into Bert's Infant Wood there is a little drain or sheugh*. Frankie is a dog of very little brain and usually falls into the sheugh. This evening he jumped over it on the outgoing journey but missed it on the return and fell in.

When I got back I suggested to Bert that he should take Frankie over the field a run before he gets too wise to the sheugh. Bert did take him over and reported a very satisfactory result.

"He fell in. Twice!"

*Sheugh - pronounced shuck

And bearing that pronunciation in mind here's part of what I had to listen to last night outside my bedroom window in Spide City.

Girl: Ye feughing did!
Boy: I feughing didn't!
Girl: Ye feughing did!
Boy: I feughing didn't!


And so on until Girl spots someone she knows,

Girl: Ya'right Maggie!
Then:

Girl: Ye feughing did!
Boy: I feughing did'n.....


Fade into blessed distance feughing and blinding as they went.



2 comments:

Lost Identity said...

When I was in college, I was visiting a friend who lived in an apartment complex filled with college students. One of the windows I walked past was open, and I could indeed hear people feughing inside. I started laughing, and I guess they heard me, because they started laughing too.

I had to share the story because it was the only one I could think of where I could use the word feughing. :-)

Nelly said...

Good feughing story or should I say feughing good story. Oh feugh! Can't decide.

My sister Ganching knows a good word although she'd never say it herself. It's Kant and is mostly said by native Londoners hailing south of the river. It comes from the German (some philosopher chap) He must have been greatly despised the way some of these people use his name as a swear word.