Dialects

I got stuck in a ludicrous traffic jam today, on the A1 somewhere near Sandy, and, in desperation, switched Radio 4 on in the hope I'd hear one of those soothing voices they specialise in. They were playing a programme about a 19th Century Dorset-based poet called William Barnes. I'd never heard of him, which isn't really surprising because if it's not by TS Elliot or a First World War poet, I've probably not read it!

It turns out that Barnes wrote poems in a Dorset dialect, which he kind of made up, based on Anglo-Saxon and a few words he'd picked up from peasants working in local fields.  

Anyway, they also interviewed a modern day poet, a rather charming woman called Liz Berry. Berry is from the Black Country and has a beautiful, strong Yammy accent, which obviously rather instantly made me feel homesick. She writes poems which are ripe with Black Country dialect.

I was actually moved to write to her earlier to say how much I'd enjoyed her poetry, in the process saluting her for flying the Midlands flag. I'm very much hoping the two of us will work on a project at some point in the future.

I'm sitting watching a BBC3 programme called Snog, Marry, Avoid at the moment, the premise of which is to do a make-under on a ghastly specimen. There's a girl on right now who is wearing so much mahogany fake tan that you can't actually see anything but her teeth, which are covered in lipstick. I wonder how people get like that.

There's so little else to say about today. Nathan is in Hull performing with the Westenders, and I'm a bit lonely waiting for him to come back. How tragic is that? The only thing which is more tragic is the fact that I can't think of anything else to write!!