Yesterday was interesting or ‘Hinteresting’
as they tend to say here in West Cumbria. The Haddition of the H is most often
used when one of us locals is trying to make him/herself understood to visitors
from Hout of county. The most common usage of the capital H is the word egg, whilst eating-out at breakfast time.
Just so that the waiteron (what is a waiteron?) understands completely – and not because all waiterons in the UK
are from a foreign country, the Cumbrian male (tends not to be a female
thing the H syndrome) will ask for ‘Bacon Hand 2 heggs – gasson silver plate’ .
Nobody complains when the silver plate is substituted for very ‘ot china. I
forgot to mention that Hoften the H is dropped from words that should ‘ave Hit.
Where was I?
Ah Yes – yesterday I attended a community
meeting in the village hall to discuss what could be done to prevent yet
another wind farm being built in West Cumbria. I have found a place where the
road dips between Pica and Moresby (2 ex mining villages more about some other time) where windmills cannot be seen – but apart from that Cumbria looks like
a porcupine viewed from space. The meeting was attended by the developer; local
councillors; a couple of ‘experts’ – who had read up on the subject the night
before and were arguing about ‘how many bells in a decibel – was it 10 or 12 (December being the 12th month)? There were also community members
from the village and farming fraternity and some Morris Dancers and a lady
selling dream catchers. Not a single person under the age of 60. I have a
feeling that the young people (those under the age of 60) are too busy paying
tax to allow over 60s the time to attend meetings and sell dreams.
One of the local councillors – the biggest
and hairiest – let’s call him ….‘oward - appointed himself Chair of the
meeting. I think that this means he can claim expenses for attending (it’s the
same the world over).
Then we all did that thing where we introduced
ourselves and said why we were there and why we wanted to save the world/get
our expenses paid. At this point the Morris Dancers formation stepped out of
the meeting (jingling of bells) – as they thought that they were there for
practice night or some satanic ceremony involving sheep and bells (must have been the decibel talk that got
them wrong footed) – technically speaking – can you actually wrong foot a
Morris Dancer?
Councillor ‘oward – who had been on an
expenses paid ‘meeting running’ course – outlined the agenda setting and the
timetable for future meetings and that ‘with all due respect to the dream
catcher lady, people shouldn’t treat the meeting as an opportunity to sell …
err.. err dream catchers’ At this point the lady dressed in buckskins pointed
out that she’d only come because she thought ‘it was a design work shop and
that the windmills would look nice if they were fashioned to look like giant
rainbow colour dream catchers with flowers and ban the bomb signs stencilled on
the masts’ and ‘BESIDES she’d only sold 2 and that had been to the Morris
Dancers who technically had not
attended the meeting’
One of the other councillors – Barry –
calmed things down under some point of order rule. Barry seemed unable to speak
without saying ‘Point of Horder Mr Chairperson…’ and we moved on to ‘any other
business; ‘date of next meeting’ and ‘would there be refreshments in future?’
Apart from dream catcher lady’s design
strategic aim there had not been any mention of windmills – so I asked if we could
perhaps talk about the subject at some time before the next scheduled meeting
in 3 months’ time. ‘Ha said Councillor Barry – I mean .. point of Horder,
through the Chair, I think that this could be the subject of one of them
Haddock meetings that the Chairperson could call Hif there was a need to
.. point of Horder.. with respect?’
After a reasonable pause to collect my
thoughts and compute all possible meanings – I cleared my throat and said
‘Haddock meeting?’
‘Yes – HAD DOCK – a meeting called from
time to time’ Barry explained with a look and tone usually reserved for
conversing with a person of the public or petulant child.
I said not a word more. The councillors and
farmers nodded sagely; the village people looked puzzled; dream catcher lady smiled
– obviously a Latin scholar at some point or an ex solicitor.
The Roman Empire abandoned West Cumbria
some 1,700 years back, having failed to introduce central heating and flushing
toilets (and law) to the natives. They
left behind some buildings; a wall; some roads and place names and quite a lot
of their genes and a lot of words still in use.
As I walked home I fantasised how
Councillor Barry would order his (expenses paid) fish and chip supper from The
Fryer Tuck Chippery in Aspatria.
‘Good Hevening Mister Tuck - my point of Horder tonight Hif Hi may –
Aduck and chips please with a carton Hof your finest mushy peas- silver plate…
Just been to a very Hinteresting meeting tonight concerning giant dream catchers
– Hit’s the future. Could I have a receipt? Thanks ….urr .. Stick a tenner on the Hamount – it’s for my
Hexpenses you Hunderstand.’
I’ll keep you posted on our ‘ban the giant
dream catcher’ campaign’ I am working on the logo for it but find that it keeps
looking like the ‘ban the bomb’ sign. If you have any ideas please He-mail me
