Summary
I ENJOY my nostalgia trails into yesterday. And why not? After all, isn't contemporary 'reality' blurred at the edges with House of Commons gas, TV soap fumes, and media cliches? But uncensored romance has its pot-holes.
Looking back I'm aware that the Devon accent surfaces occasionally on local TV with its 'ooh-arr, ma boodies' jargon. But a friend told me she doesn't miss a certain weatherman, with his corroborative grin, going: "Ow be ackin, ma lil plums. We'm gwain to get a bit of cule air blowing in from Cornwall in the morning. Tez true. My auld bit of zeeweed doan tell lies." Dad also delivered similar monologues to summer holidaymaker, public bar audiences who responded by buying him booze.See the full content of this document
Extract
An Indulgent Wallow in Nostalgia
The phoney horticulturalist would say: "Now's the time tuh mulch yer spuds, dip yer curly g...
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