I'm all ears...

I am fur-deep in working on a psychotherapy assignment due to be handed in at a time of year when I should really be snoozing, and perusing my last bits of Christmas thingummy-bobbies I need to get hold of, to stop my head from falling off with blind panic!

December's also the month of my Birthday, with GJ's big Five-O milestone Birthday coming up in January - For which I've got a party planned - Eek!

I'm meeting one of my bessie mates from Uni on Thursday for a decadent and languid lunch at a beautiful spot in the Cathedral City of Durham. 

I've had to postpone a visit from a kitchen designer in order to honour my prior appointment with her - We've now known each other for thirty years, which is frightening when you think of it.   Her son is my godson, she has a lovely older daughter too, and I love them dearly although I probably only catch up with her about twice a year if we're lucky...   More's the pity.

I'm terrified at what the kitchen is going to cost me, though - And I wonder if any of you can make any recommendations for reasonable priced stuff, as my builders favour Howden's and I don't believe for one moment they're going to be as cheap as chips!   My existing kitchen was thirty years old and dilapidated when we first moved in almost ten years ago, so we're desperate for a functional kitchen that we can sit and eat in - Well, blog in, in my case!

On Saturday I had the pleasure of marrying a delightful couple who were only in their early twenties, just as I was when I married GJ twenty-five years ago!   One of the registrars referred to them as "bairns".   And I thought, yes they are, and I was!   Next weddings for me will be in January, so we might get some of the anticipated awful northern British winter away before then...   We've a smidgeon of snow on the hills as of this weekend.

December just seems like the kind of month where you have to squeeze a pint pot into a half!   We're off to see Lindsey Buckingham in the middle of the month, just before my birthday and I'm also hopeful of the promise of a late lunch with some ladies who are regulars from our local pub, who fancy a bit of a "do" at a posh Italian restaurant nearby.

Suldog asked me last post whence came the expression - "I couldn't give a flying kipper's fart!"

I thought I must have picked it up somewhere on my travels.   Turns out it's mine, I think.   I googled it and found no result except on my blog - Skrikes, I'm off again!

And so, if I don't see you through the week, I'll see you through the window, mes bloggy lovers!   Ciao bellas!

This fantastic image of the atmospheric ruins of Dunstanburgh Castle in December by photographer Guy Edwardes.   Stunning.   PLEASE CLICK FOR MORE ABOUT GUY.

And I'm just going to leave you with this beauty from La Bush:

Spring Lamb and Greens...

Did I tell you already that I love this time of year?

Spring!

When the Blackface lambs start appearing in the fields, gambolling about, nudging their mothers, kicking their heels and challenging one another to play 'King of the Castle' in just a few short weeks...

Things always feel much better for me with Spring on the horizon. The fields seem to absorb the light and glow emerald green here in Hope, Northumberland.

The wide-open skies are dense with scudding clouds, replete with rain to feed the earth and fill the thirsty streams which flow on to the North Sea, impenetrably blue.

Soft green buds unfurl their fronds which feel like heaven to touch. The perfume of yellow gorse and blossoming heather blows down the valley, air-borne, meeting my nostrils and making me dream of summer honey from local busy bees fed on those very same flowers.

'In the spring, a young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love'.

Mine turns to the beauty of where I am fortunate enough to live...

...And breathe.

Photo of Lambs on Holy Island, courtesy of Andrew Gibson, Chronicle Live.

Photo of Northumbrian Skies, Wild Teasel, flickr.

Lines from Locksley Hall by Alfred Lord Tennyson.

Pitmatic 2

Where was I??!

Oh, yes... Yakking.

It's what I do best, n'est-ce pas?

Pitmatic, formerly 'pitmatical', referring to the very peculiar words and language used by my forebears, my ancestors. First mentioned in a Victorian journal of the time, when industry leaders came to the region to lay down the law, but couldn't understand a word of what the miners were saying; They termed it, 'pitmatical'.

From BBC Radio 4: "Until the closure of the last pit in 1981, Ashington was one of Britain's most concentrated mining communities. At its peak in the 1930s the town boasted 6,000 men underground. Closely-knit is the cliché used of pit-communities, but it is undeniable that these villages were self sufficient and self-supporting: the village was the pit and measured itself and its people in relation to it".

So, a language drawn from old German, Dutch, old English, Norse and some just simply made up on the spot by the miners themselves...

It's said to be one of the purest forms of English that remains in our Realm.

I've heard my son using the term 'bari'. I'd never heard it before, but it's an old word coming back into the dialect, and means fab, lovely, beautiful...

When I say I am down on my honkers, I mean I am crouched low to the ground... It takes me yonks to get up again, it's me age, doctor!

I might threaten to 'yark' someone, if they're being cheeky. What I mean is that I might hit, or clip, them one with my back-hand!

I got puzzled glances at work the other week, when I offered a colleague a pair of tweezers to take the spelk out of his finger. He had a splinter of wood trapped under the skin, a 'spelk'.

A baby, or small children are 'bairns'.

Our toilet (usually outside!) at the rear of the house, is a 'netty'.

If I'm talking about someone bounding over, a cat jumping up on my lap, I say 'lowp'... "Aye, he fair lowped!"

If the cat was overly covered in mud, or clarts, we'd say "Mind, he's reet hacky!"

If I'm busy with something, like in a warehouse full of boxes, or standing more than waist deep in water, "I'm up to me oxters!" (My armpits).

You may have heard that we use the term, 'canny', to mean something or someone is nice, or we had a good time... "Aye, it wor (were) canny like".

If I'm 'clamming for me bait,' I'm telling you I'm pretty hungry.

Sometimes a Geordie may appear to be using words incorrectly , but this may not always be the case. For example a Geordie may say 'Aaal larn yer (meaning I'll teach you) as in the Anglo Saxon Laeran which meant teach. Other Geordie words of Anglo Saxon origin include Axe (ask) from the Anglo-Saxon Acsian, Burn meaning stream, Hoppings meaning fayre and Gan which is the Geordie and Anglo Saxon word meaning to go.

The unique way in which Geordies and Northumbrians pronounce certain words is also often Anglo-Saxon in origin. Thus Geordie words like Dede, Coo, Cloot, Hoos, Wrang, Strang and Lang are in fact the original Anglo-Saxon pronounciations for Dead, Cow, Clout, House, Wrong, Strong and Long.

These old words have survived in the North East for a number of reasons primarily associated with the region's historical remoteness and isolation from southern England. The turbulent border history of this region was also a major factor in discouraging outside influence although some Viking words have crept into the local dialect from the neighbouring Viking settled areas of Yorkshire, South Durham and Cumbria. CLICKIE FOR MORE

Painting, 'Progging the Mat', by a Pitman Painter.

Come meditate in my field full of Northumbrian poppies...

Take time out to enjoy flowers...and my beautiful county...

How beautiful is it where you live, mes Bloggy Petals?!