Jenno's Blog: It ain't Fair

Jennospot 50 It Ain't Fair

Lot's o' fings in life ain't fair; 'specially if'n yew're a girl. D'yew know wot I mean? Loike when some o' the boys in our village (an' Oi ain't talkin' about the Lions Avenue Lot), don't let girls join in wiv wot they're doin'. Well, sometimes yew've just gotta put up wiv it, 'cos there ain't nuffink else yew c'n do. But sometimes, wot's unfair, is that they cheat, an that's jus' plain nasty. Any'ow, today Oi'm goin' ter tell yew about the start of a cart race, where not only were us girls left out, but the boys in the gang wot we was racin' against cheated as well. Cripes, it were enough ter make a girl spit. This is 'ow Peter told it:

We went on up The Street towards Hibberd's general store. Four Streeters were already there, including Arthur and Albert. They had drawn a chalk line across the width of the road.

‘Oy!’ exclaimed Arthur. ‘No girls.’

‘Winnifred's not racing,’ said Roy.

‘Wot's she doin' 'ere then?’

‘Since she's not racing, she can be the starter,’ I said.

Arthur pushed his face aggressively into mine. ‘Ain't yew got no ears? Oi said, no girls; 'n Oi meant, no girls.’

I was severely tempted to hit him, but after an inner struggle, contented myself with a glare.

‘Who's going to start us then?’ asked Roy. ‘Where are the rest of your gang?’

‘They've gorn down Water Mill Lane ter the finish by the bridge. Oi'll start us.’

‘That's not fair,’ objected Dismal. ‘That gives you an advantage.’

‘Just yew shut up, dimwit Dismal. If'n yew lot come up on our territory, yew'll do things our way.’

‘Let it drop Dismal,’ said Roy. ‘We'll beat them anyway.’

‘Huh, sez yew,’ replied Albert.

‘How are we going to score?’ asked Brian. ‘Lowest aggregate wins?’

‘First past the post is the winner,’ said Arthur.

‘With you as starter? Not likely,’ said Dismal. ‘I want lowest aggregate wins.’

‘Me too,’ I said. ‘First over the line scores one, the second two, and so on. That way everyone in the race counts.’

‘Yeah— okay,’ said Arthur reluctantly. ‘So let's get started. Everyone get 'is cart behind the line. Get outta the way with yer stupid cart, Winnie.’

‘My name is Winnifred,’ said Winnie with dignity. ‘Miss King to you. And I'm not in the way, Mister misogynist Haflin.’

‘Wot's misogynist?’ said Albert.

‘Look it up in a dictionary,’ retorted Winnifred. ‘That is, if a great intellect like yours even knows how to read.’

‘Just yew shut up, Winnifred King,’ snarled Arthur. ‘Or else—’

‘Or else what?’ said Winnifred mildly. ‘Don't you threaten me, Arthur Haflin. Unless, that is, you want Mr Trundle to learn of certain things that you'd rather he didn't hear about.’

‘Yeah— well— okay— just stand to one side.’

‘Please,’ said Winnifred.

‘Please,’ echoed Arthur.

We lined our carts up along the chalk line. The extreme left was the most advantageous position, but the four Streeters had already positioned themselves on the left.

Roy saw me getting ready to protest. He shook his head at me. ‘Doesn't matter,’ he said. ‘It's a long race, with a lot of punting. The start positions aren't that important. We're going to beat them anyway.’