Mrs Cox continues her isolation by chatting with her husband Lenny who died 75 years earlier – just at the end of the Second World War.
“Get your leeks ‘ere girls – lovely leeks – tek a butchers at me tatters too – fresh up from Evesham they am – apples a-pound a pair”
That wus the furst words I ‘erd you spek Lenny. That day in the Bullring market all them years agoo. Yow looked like Rudolf Valentino to me – the Prince of the Bull Ring
“D’yow fancy an apple?” you said. “They do look noice” I replies, all tongue tied
“Ave this one on me –it’s a Cox like me – I’m a Cox – Lenny Cox”
Oh Lenny you wus a charmer and no mistake– There wus me barely 16, nevr ‘ad a boyfriend – allus been a bit of a tomboy till I met you. Then we wus married not seven months later.
They say young love don’t last but ours did – through thick and thin – good and bad – un I still love you as much today as I did the day we tied the knot that day in Saint Martin’s.
Yow remember them young market wags made us an arch of honour with their little wooden two wheel barras. Best roses from the gypsy girls who spit on them so they shone, even a bottle of champagne purloined from somewhere by your brother Ernie the bookie. The kids followed ‘im loike ‘e wus the Pied Piper – “The birds do the singing and the bees mek the honey –The mugs do the puntin’ and the bookie teks’ the money!”
Ha ha Ho ho – ‘appiest day of my loife.
“Do yow Emily tek Leonard to be your lawful wedded husband to have and too hold to love honour and obey as long as yow both shall live?”
Never bin more certain than anything in my life – though the obeying bit went a bit astray for all the best reasons of course and I never ‘erd yow complain.
Weddings ay? Should be joyous and where are we with ‘em today?
So many weddings ‘ave ‘ad to be postponed or cancelled altogether – another sad consequence of the Pop Lenny – can’t even ‘ave a proper funeral at the moment neither – no more than a couple of people allowed to be there and no hugs.
Life ‘as changed in a matter of weeks. D’you know what Elvis the postie told me today when he brung me a parcel of biscuits from Stephanie? Pikeys ‘ud set up camp on Evesham high street. Caravans, ‘oses, camp fires the lot. Roight in the middle of the High Street “Well I don’t think that’s such a bad thing” I says.
“Un they sound proper travellers not loike some on them motorised pikeys. Genuine travellers add a bit of colour and are part of our ‘eritage.
We used to have gentlemen of the road as we called the back then too – solitary travellers. Lived under the stars and passed by mebbe once a year – knocked on your door and told your fortune or sold you a bit of firewood, a bunch of ‘eather or a few clothes pegs. No trouble and fascinating tellers of tales if yow cared to listen.
They’s long gone – no gentlemen today – Last toime I was up in town ther wus a load of scruffy beggers ‘just sittin’ in shop doorways – not nice ones – druggies – even their dogs seem drugged. Well I hope they’ve got cleaned up and rejuvenated during this visitation of the four horsemen of the Pop – I mean there’s so much more to loife than tekin nasty drugs – I’m sure they’ve all got a story – lets ope its now got more off an ‘appy ending.
The ‘bring out yer dead toll” am gooin down now – day on day. Seems loike it’s the end of the beginning as opposed to the beginning of the end which give us all the wobbles seven weeks ago. The big ‘ospitals they built overnight ‘ave barely got anyone in them and that’s got to be a good thing – even though the be-grugers are sayin’ it was money wasted. Better to plan for the worst and pray for the best –someone said – and they was spot on. Everyone can be an expert after the event.
Mind you, we have the wost figures in Europe apparently when it comes to countin’ up the number of poor folk as av died of the pop. That depends of course on ‘ow they counts the figures is the politicians response – don’t give a monkeys either way – just sad for the mites as left behind.
Haha that captain Tom got promoted to Colonel on is birthday and they even giv’ him a fly past of Spitfires. Oh that was a joyous sound – the Spitfire engines in the war. Over 30million is raised now. Could do with more Colonel Toms and less moanin Mini’s.
Last night was the Thursday night clap and knees-up to cheer on our front liners and I’m proud that everyone on our block now turns out. We bang our pots and pans and cheer and wave to one another – Gran’s Army I calls it.
Spekin’ of which good news on the Flo front – her niece is orf the ventabulator thingy and is breathin’ on ‘er ‘own. Er’ll be back ‘om soon I reckon.
‘An Flo – er says to me last noight at the end of the clap “Emily – I was thinking of organising a socially distanced whist drive in the back garden for all us ladies – what do you think”
Well what I thought was “I cor think of anythink I’d rather do less yow annoying little midgit’ but what I actually said was “Oh Flo what a lovely idea!
Noight Lenny – love you mate
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