A Cornish*Tale - Iris and Bet

Two old friends meet up again -

childhood friends - from Hayle.

Fifty years on they enjoy a smoke,

a cup of tea ...... and a few chips.

In the kitchen sparse and bare

they sit and have “a bit o' chat”

(and in the lounge  I'm a “fly on the wall”

..... can’t help but listen
and watch through the door)

“It’s been so long” Iris said

“can’t believe I’m back 'ere!

Glad we could meet, we had  good times

lots of good times didn’ us?"
(she took a drag on her fag)

"How’s awl Wot’s Name then?” she asked

“Who's that then?” said Bet with frown,
“Y’knaw, awl Rainsford Hockin’?”

“Oh he's gone, bin dead a while" 

“Has he?"
"'Ess. Died from 'flu he did"
"Did he? Oh, wot shame!" Iris said,
"Nice chap he was.....

though he never did marry

that girl he got into trouble..."
(.......and took another drag on her fag....)

Some moments past ...a few more drags,

sips of tea,
time has no rush at all -
a Cornish kitchen time almost stands still:

"Wan' a foo chips do 'ee my handsome?"
(they skin some spuds)

"How's awl Wot's Name then?"
"Who's that then?" said Bet

“Y'knaw - awl Denzil Retallick?”  

“Oh he's gone,

bin dead ten year he have"

“Has he?" said Iris
"'Ess, died in 'is sleep he did"

"Did he?" said Iris in disbelief

"'Ess" said Bet, "liver gave up – 

he drank too much 

his poor awl wife knew that”

(spuds get chipped)

“Well,  you never can tell" said Iris,

"and wot I say is, right is right, 

and truth’ll  'ave it out” 

(chips go into hot lard)

A few more drags

and sips

and puffs,

with minds flashing back to the past.....

"I knawed 'is Granfer well" said Iris
"he had some funny awl ways mind" 
Iris chukled,
".......used to greet me with
'how are 'ee hanging my handsome?'
and me being a girl an' all,
well I never!"
(some more drags and sips,
they both had a laugh)

“How’s awl Vyvyan Williams then?"

Iris enquired curiously
....a name she did not forget

“Oh, she’s gone” said Bet matter-of-fact

"Has she?" Iris said with disbelief
"'Ess.  Died six year ago she did"

"Did she?! Well I never!" 
"Heart attack she had, 

dropped down dead on the spot.”

(golden brown chips ready to eat....)

“Well truth to tell Bet

I have to say,

I never had much time for she...

she worked in that office,

a cleaner she was

but she never did no work.

Just sprayed the polish

into the air 

to make it smell all nice, like.

And then one Christmas

you’ll never guess wot

I bought 'lovely big Ponisetti plant for she....

and all she gave me

was a box of awl soaps

with “to Aunty Vyv ” on the back.

“Well” said Bet,  “you never can tell.

Nice fooneral she had, mind”

(selah)

“Wan’ a fag do ‘ee my handsome?”

....they light up some more

and made some more tea

with a plate of well-seasoned chips,

and they settled back 

for some more “bit o' chat”....

“How’s awl Trevelyan Friggins?” 

asked Iris, the names coming back

“Oh, he's .....”  (I thought:  ”he’s gone”....
for crying out loud, can't they talk about anything else!

but no!  the response was different this time)

“......he’s in Bodmin he is” said Bet

“IS he?  Oh NAW!!!!!!  NAW!!  Poor awl chap!”

("in Bodmin" it seemed, was worse than death)

“'Ess” said Bet,  “found him wanderin’ they did,

wanderin’  ‘arf naked on Hayle beach.....

been in fifteen year now” said Bet ruefully

“Doubt he’ll ever be out”

“Wan’ a drop of ‘ot in your tea my handsome?"

They drink some more

and smoke some more

and  eat some saffron cake

“How’s your son then Iris?”

(Bet's turn now to question)

“Oh ..... he’s alright, 

though truth to tell, 

he’s not been all that great.....

(a tremor came into her voice)

he gets depressed,

don't open his mail,

or pay his bills,

he can’t do nothen' he can't Bet.

'Ave to do his washing and ironin’ I do,

his marriage broke up,

wife took the baby,
nearly wiped 'im out of house an' home.

It’s they city girls

that’s wot it is Bet,

they city girls aren’t no good
- all they care 'bout is their c'reeers"

(....though I was a "city girl" too
     - and I didn't care much about my "c'reeer"......)

"Better my son had married that other girl,

the one who came from Nancledra, 

he’d have been happy then he would for sure.”

....the puffs came quick and fast,

to sort of ease the tension  -

with silence for a comfort break:

more tea, more cake, another fag...

The silence broke at last,

“How’s that little dog of your’n Bet?”

“Oh, he’s gone" 

“Has he? ......Oh, wot shame, 
nice little thing he was......”

©  Sonya Katasheva  2012

AUTHOR'S NOTES  *This poem needs to be read in a Cornish accent, but if you have never heard one you won’t really know how it should sound! The Cornish do not tend to rush their speech - it taken quite leisurely.  There are some very Cornish ways of speaking in this poem: for example –


"awl" - old

“My handsome” is a Cornish term of endearment

 “foo” – instead of saying “funeral” or “few” (with a “you” sound) the Cornish pronounce it “fooneral” and “foo”

"c'reeers" = "careers" - the Cornish tend to drag out some double vowels, and miss out others!

“For she” – Cornish say “for she” instead of “for her”

"Ess" = yes

 “‘ee” – a contraction of the old English personal "thee" (meaning “you”)

"mind" = remember

"how are 'ee hanging?" -  Literally "how are you hanging?" -  a Cornish colloquialism  meaning "How are you?" between two close male friends - the "hanging" being reference to male genitalia.

“They city girls” – the Cornish say “They” instead of “those” in certain sentences

“Drop of hot” – means a fresh top up of tea in your cup

"Bodmin" is a Cornish town where there is a mental hospital

"Nancledra" is a tiny obscure Cornish village (or at least it was forty years ago!)

"Ponisetti plant" - should really be "Poinsettia plant" but lack of education made poor literacy and mispronunciation!

NB: Names are fictional in this poem, but are based on real Cornish names.

 This poem is based on a true story when I visited the Cornish seaside town of Hayle many years ago with my friend whose mother was Cornish, and we all paid a visit to an old friend of hers – there were actually about ten people in all who had died during the conversation (my friend and I were getting quite depressed with the repeating phrase  "S/he's gone"!) ....but I have cut it down to a few because the poem would be even longer than it is!