Recently I confessed to an accent formed during my youth in the West Riding (ie, a part of Yorkshire, one of our grimmer northern counties). Why confessed? Because I for one cannot take anything seriously said in that whining drone suitable only for voicing complaint.
I have already met two bloggers who comment on Works Well and neither was prepared for the accent. Julia says it's time I took a more adult view and provided some kind of warning for other such unfortunates. As a result I have recorded one of my sonnets based on memories of a walk I took over fifty years ago with the woman who was to become Mrs BB.
I have already met two bloggers who comment on Works Well and neither was prepared for the accent. Julia says it's time I took a more adult view and provided some kind of warning for other such unfortunates. As a result I have recorded one of my sonnets based on memories of a walk I took over fifty years ago with the woman who was to become Mrs BB.
you may click HERE and discover my angst.
