The Story of Aubergine

Ah first bumped into ‘er dahn L’Etacq. Literally bumped into ‘er – she were drahvin’ a rented Vauxhall Nova and were tekkin’ a little too long workin’ aht which way to go at the turnin’, so ah softly gev her one from beharnd.

‘What you doin’ shuntin’ me with yer tractor?’ she yelled, leapin’ aht of the car and pointin’ ‘er finger all angry lark. Well straight away ah fancied ‘er. Massive hooters she had, fillin’ up the beck of her car all brass and shiny, and you know ah’m always a fan of musicians.

Turns aht she were a tuba instructor come over to give a few lessons to prah-vate students. Lovely face - ears, nose, eyes ‘n everything. Well ah was smitten.

‘What you doin' aht yer, ma luv?’ ah asked. ‘And whar you got all them instruments in yer boot?’ That’s when she explained what her job was – teaching people how to blow properly.

‘So you give lessons in blowing?' ah says. 'Ah guess this means thet were someone to descrarb yer job in two words they’d say you was a blowing instructor.’

‘Yes, or someone what gives blowing lessons,’ she says.

‘Lark a job involving blowing.’

‘Yes. Mah job is to teach people hah to blow.’

‘A blow career.’

‘Yes. Ah give really good blow instructions.’

'Ah get it.'

'Ah'm also the head of mah department.'

'Ah'm guessin' yer good at your job, too. Lark if someone asked fer a proper definition of how you delivered yer role you'd say you gave an effective head who was excellent at the instruction of blowing.'

'Indeed,' she says. 'A lot to swallow, ah know.'

‘Rart,’ ah says. ‘And do you lark aubergines?’

‘Yes,’ she says. ‘Whar?’

‘Cos ah got some beck at the house 'n ah fancy some nosh.’

And thet was thet. Beck we went to marn, and it weren’t long before ah hed her on her knees in the lounge. Ah’d been eatin’ crackers the nart before and med a ruddy mess of it, and she'd karndly offered to sweep up all the crumbs and put ‘em in the bin wharlst ah checked mah Facetube upstairs.

Ah comes dahn an hour later (ah totally forgot she was there, if ah’m honest), to fahnd her rummagin’ through the veg in mah fridge. ‘Abaht thet aubergine,’ she said. ‘You gonna cook it fer me or what? Ah’m in the mood fer something warm insard me.’  

‘We got some leftover beancrock if you fancy,’ ah says, pointin’ to the pot on the sink. ‘Help yerself if you can farnd a spoon.’

And she did, though ah hed to stop ‘er after a wharl ‘cos otherwarse ah’d hev nothin’ left fer me tea.

‘Oh Hedley you really do know hah to treat a women,’ she called afterwards, as ah was watching Homes Under the Hammer on the box. ‘Hedley you got me in the mood, ma luv,’ she says, comin’ in and rollin’ up her left sock. ‘Ravish me. Ah’m all yours. Ah want you to tek me somewhere ah ain’t never been tekken before.’

So ah took ‘er dahn the Farmers. Ah even held the door fer ‘er on the way in. ‘There’s the dartboard,’ ah says, ‘thet’s fet Jean over there on the stool – give ‘im a wave – and the there’s crisps beharnd the bar if you want ‘em. Bogs are over there.’

‘But Hedley,’ she says, lookin’ all glum. ‘This isn’t what ah meant.’

Ruddy women, eh?