The Speed Watch

Young Dorcas, she been bumping ‘er gums again about folk travelling too fast through the village. Truth to tell, she got a point – there’s too many on 'em on ‘osses, or in carriages and on they new-fangled Penny Farthings and other such like contraptions, all a-belting through the main street, a-splashing up the mud and a-running down chickens, cats and dogs and such.

Dorcas already bin in touch wi t’constabulary, but they don’ want to know. Says they only got one constable for th' whole shire and he can’t be everywhere.

Any road, me and Alf we decided we’d take matters in hand. So Alf bin out and borrowed the squire’s pocket watch (our ‘speed watch’ we calls it). Then we picked two trees, jest by the side of the road at the edge of the village, about a hundred paces apart. Then we watches a few folk trot through the village (at sensible speeds o course) and times how long they takes to get from one tree t’th next. We’s both agreed anything less than twenty seconds is too fast for decent law-abiding folk to be travelling at.

So, the next week we borrows a couple of Thomas’s pill box hats from th' post office (so’s we’d look all official like) and I stands by the first tree with me chalk and slate. When someone comes past I puts up me hand and Alf (he’s stood by t’other tree) starts a-timing ‘em. If they takes more than twenty seconds to reach him then he gives me the thumbs up, else its the thumbs down and I notes their pertickyerlers on me slate. If they takes on and starts a-shakin a fist at us then I puts a big ‘X’ against their name as well, 'cos we can't be doin with that sort o thing!

When we’s finished, we takes the slate to Dorcas and she writes a letter to each an everyone on th’list. She be a sweet girl on th’outside but she got a way with words that can make a grown man feel like a naughty child – truth be told, folk ‘ud much rather deal with constabulary any day of the week than get a tickin-off from Dorcas!

Then guess what? We’s doing so well, folk in the next village thought they’d try the same thing. Only problem is, the squire only got one watch so now we’s having to share – p’raps we can persuade Dorcas to get another one, but these things aint cheap.

Sojers

Them sojers bin frightening my doggie agin with their muskets and canons. So I told em, 'You won't find any Frenchies hereabouts'.

But they jes laughed and one of em shouts, 'We aint after Frenchies, old timer - Boney's long dead and buried. We're off to the North West Frontier.'

I dont mind really - they're only doin their jobs. But I reckon we must a bin in an out o that Khyber Pass for the last 60 years gone, and we still aint licked them Pashtuns.

Appen we'll still be there 100 years hence.

Th Committee

T'other night Queenie ad her mates round fer er monthly get tergether. Calls emselves some sort o village committee but I knows wot they're really upto! They sits around a smokin their pipes, a passin round the gin bottle an cacklin away ter each other.

'Yer a bunch o ole witches' I tells em, but they jes laughs an sends me out fer more gin and baccy. I don dare cross em though - me an doggie, we bin out in th fields and seen markings on th ground, th corn dollies an bits o ole candle stubs in jam jars.

The one with the bath chair, I reckon she's their leader!

Back Agin

Dorcas she’s always complainin Candleford don’t see enough o t’local constabulary, but personally I don understand the fuss - ere in Lark Rise we always seen this as a blessin!

Fer a start, me and Queenie ud starve if it weren’t fer a bit o poachin, then there’s young Alf’s field o foreign-lookin weed (no idea wot ee does with it but I ent never seen him wi out a smile on iz face), not ter mention Queenie’s moonshine business, and o course everyone knows the Timminses bin traffickin young ladies these past 5 years gone.... and god only knows wot old Giles sprays on is crops but I ent the only one’s seen 2-headed rabbits hereabouts.

Now where would we be if we ad the plod round every day? Folk jes don know when they got it good!

Is Anyone Out There?

...so Queenie and me, we thought we'd try us ands at one o they new-fangled blogs. They said all you need, Twister, is a lapdog and a rat on a piece o' string, and then you get young Alf peddling Thomas' bike ter mek some electrickery and Bob's yer uncle.

Folk thinks there ain't a lot as appens down our neck o the woods...appen they'd be surprised if only they knew!