Moi Name’s Jenno
 

‘Allo ev’rybody…! Moi name’s Jenno; leastways, that’s wot most o’ moi friends call me, so Oi reckon as ‘ow yew can call me that an’ all.

 

 

Actually, moi name is Jean Bryce. Moi mum calls me Jeanie, ‘cept when she calls me “Jean”. But cripes, when she does that, Oi gotta look out, ‘cos it means she’s real cross wiv me.

 

 

Oi live in a village in England called Widdlington. It’s quite a big village taken all-together, only it’s cut inter two parts by a river an’ a railway going through the middle. Each part ‘as got its gangs. The part, wot we call “The Street” is real old. It were started by the Vikings about 1200 years ago. It’s got two gangs. The new part, wot is where Oi live, were mostly built along Pepper Mill Lane when the railway came. It’s got two gangs an’ all.

 

 

Each gang ‘as got a territ’ry, an’ nobody ‘ad better go alone inter the territ’ry of anovver gang, ‘cos that’s jus’ plain askin’ fer trouble. Oi’m talkin’ about the kids, o’corse, ‘cos the grown-ups ‘ave got ovver sorts o’ gangs, wot ‘ave ter do wiv political parties, or sport, or religion an’ such stuff, wot ain’t really moi cup o’ tea. They argue a lot about all that, but they don’t much notice the kids’ gangs unless there’s a bit of a barney goin’ on, an’ even then they don’t properly unnerstan’ wot it’s all about. Grown-ups often ferget real quick wot it’s loike ter be a kid.

 

 

A lot o’ the barneys us kids ‘ave, start because of our soapbox carts. The fing is, most of the kids, includin’ the girls, loike ter race’ their carts down the Mountain Glide, wot is an old gravel pit. There we sometoimes ‘ave races between the gangs, wot don’t always go real amicably (cripes, there’s a super word fer yew!). Moi cart is real fast. She’s called “Emmeline P” because of Mrs Emmeline Pankhurst the famous suffragette, wot got votes fer women. Fact is, Oi don’t reckon as ‘ow there ain’t nobody more famous than wot she is, ‘cos she didn’t never give up, not even when fings looked real bad against ‘er.

 

 

Any’ow, there’s lots o’ problems between the kids o’ the village a-cause o’ cart racin’, an’ ovver fings as well. If’n yew’d loike ter know more about ‘em, p’raps it’d be best ter take a dekko at Peter St John’s “Gang” books, wot ‘ave got quite a lot about me in ‘em an’ all.

 

 

Speakin’ o’ super words, there’s real scads of ‘em in the diction’ry, and Oi like ter trot one out now an’ again, jus’ fer fun. The fact is, (only please don’t let on ter nobody) Oi c’n write real posh if’n Oi set moi mind ter it, loike at school. Oi don’t do it wiv moi friends, ‘cos if’n Oi did, they’d reckon as ‘ow Oi were a-showin’ off – an’ then Oi’d get dropped faster’n yew c’n say “elegant elocution”. Besides, Oi’d loike ter count yew as bein’ among moi friends. See wot Oi mean?

 

 

Well, Oi reckon as ‘ow that’s probably enough from me fer the toime bein’. If’n yew’d loike ter learn more, yew could always go ter http://www.peterstjohn.net/ an’ do some clickin’ around, but only if’n yew really want to, ‘cos P St J writes posh, not proper English loike wot Oi do.

 

 

So cheerio fer now. P’raps Oi’ll see yew again later on. Meanwhile, ‘Ave yerselves some ‘appy readin’…

 

 

 

Jennospot 127: Humpty Dumpty

 

Oi reckon as ‘ow most people know the old rhyme about a haughty fellow wot got ‘imself up on an ‘igh wall, an’ then fell down cos ‘ee got real dizzy wiv ‘imself. Any’ow, fer some reason, P St J felt as ‘ow ‘ee ought ter bring the rhyme up ter date a bit. So ‘ere it is, wiv a picture an’ all. Oi ‘ope yew loike it:

 

Humpty Trumpty

 

Hail temporal lord of lofty walls,

Gold-yellow crowned in splendour.
Come uply up from towering halls,
Hugely up—not to offend a member of the female gender—
But make us great, where all was small before,
And scorn the lore of those who keep the law.

But some know well that treacherous winds may bigly blow

Despite terrific speeches and all show. They know
Of weakness in a wall that shakes
And twitter-topple he who takes
Amazing stance upon the height.
To downward plunge in awesome flight.

For higher rise brings greater fall

The loftiest wall the worst of all.
A mighty crash upon the ground.
And then discordant trumpets sound.
For all the force and all the men
Cannot lift golden Lord again.
 

©Peter St John

http://www.peterstjohn.net/

Jennospot 125 - Gangs

Oi dunno about yew, but most of the people wot Oi know belong ter some sort o’ gang.

 

O’ course, they don’t often call it a gang, but give it some sorta name loike, club, or society, association, or party, wot don’t prevent it being a gang, loike in the proverb about birds of a fevver gangin’-up tergevver, if’n yew see wot Oi mean.

 

Lots o’ gangs are made up of the people wot live in the same place, loike the first gang  wot Oi was in – the Pepper Mill Lane Mob – until Oi ‘ad a row wiv JJ the leader, about girls bein’ second class members. Oi said as ‘ow ‘ee were a rotten ol’ misogynist, so ‘ee chucked me out, even though Oi don’t reckon as ‘ow ‘ee even knows wot the word means. Since then Oi’ve been in a couple of ovver gangs, wot shows yew as ‘ow yew c’n be in more’n one gang at a toime, if’n yew want.

 

One o’ them gangs is called “Gang America”, even if’n Oi ain’t American, an’ ain’t never been out o’ moi village o’ Widdlington, ‘cept ter go ter London by train one toime, wot were a real ol’ barney.

 

Any’ow, them wot was in “Gang America”, ‘ad a bit of a difference of opinion wiv the commandant of the US Army Air Force Base wot were built near our village, so we all ‘ad ter gang-up tergevver against ‘im ter ‘elp ‘im see reason, as it were. P’raps we ought ter ‘ave called it a “party”, ‘cos it were mostly about politics, rights, an’ territories, loike in the USA wiv the drummin’ Democrats an’ the trumpetin’ Republicans. Only it weren’t really no ‘appy fun party, wot with the war an’ the bombers an’ everyfink.

 

Some gangs get tergevver ter commit crimes, loike them Chicago gangs when prohibition come in, or wot go about stealin’ money an’ stuff. We kids in Widdlin’ton ‘ad a run in with one o’ them sorts o’ gangs, wot tried ter pinch the money wot ‘ad been collected ter ‘elp buy a Spitfire aeroplane. They weren’t ‘alf a dangerous lot, but cripes, sometoimes yew’ve got ter do wot yew’ve got ter do, ‘specially if’n yew’re in love…

 

That’s probably enough from me fer now, about gangs. But Oi’d jus’ loike ter say as ’ow Oi’m real glad ter be in moi gang, ‘cos wivvout it, Oi’d feel real lonely, loike “Duke” Taylor, wot ain’t got no gang ‘cos ‘ee lives in a sort o’ no-mans-land, where there aren’t no ‘ouses anywhere near. Still an’ all, ‘ee’s a real noice kid…

 

Luv from, Jenno…

 

P.S. If’n yew’d loike ter know more about the Widdlin’ton gangs, yew could do worse’n take a dekko at http://www.peterstjohn.net/. It don’t cost nuffink neither.

Jenno's Greenhouse

Jennospot 124  Jenno’s Greenhouse

 

‘Ave yew got a green’ouse?

We ain’t got one in our garden ‘cos the chicken run already takes up a lot o’ room. But that don’t really matter ‘cos there’s some people wot reckon as ‘ow the whole World is a green’ouse an’ we’re makin’ it ‘otter an’ ‘otter by breathin’ out carbon dioxide, an’ riding around in motor cars, an’ such ovver stuff wot makes carbon dioxide, so it’s all our own stupid fault.

Any’ow, there’s a whole lot o’ argy-bargy goin’ on about all that; even about wevver it really is getting’ ‘otter. Yew see, the trouble is that the World ain’t got no fundamental orifice where yew c’n stick a thermometer -- not loike me when Oi ‘ad the chicken pox -- so yew’ve got ter work out wot yew fink the average temperature is in real complicated ways.

Well them wot believe as ‘ow we all live in a green’ouse wot’s getting’ 'otter an’ ‘otter, c’n believe it if’n they want, but it don’t seem ter make a whole lot o’ sense ter me, ‘cos the air in a green’ouse gets ‘ot when the sun shines ‘cos the air can’t get out through the glass, wot ain’t the case out in the World.

Besides, there ain’t normally no clouds in a green’ouse, an’ if’n yew fink about it, it’s when there are fewer clouds that it gets ‘ot. When there are more of ‘em their shadder cools fings down. So Oi reckon as ‘ow clouds ‘ave got a real lot ter do wiv whevver it gets ‘otter or colder.

An wot makes clouds?

Nobody don’t yet really know fer certain all about that, ‘cos it’s real complicated, jus’ loike wot measurin’ the temperature of the whole World is. Even so, it ain’t no secret as ‘ow the sun ‘as a lot ter do wiv makin’ clouds, an’ the sun ‘as been actin’ real peculiar lately. An’ Oi don’t reckon as ‘ow temperature ‘as much ter do wiv a real little bit o' gas loike wot yew find in a green’ouse, even if’n the green’ouse is as big as the whole World.

Any’ow, Oi’m goin’ ter show yew a few pictures wot’ll p’raps give yew a bit of an idea of wot Oi’m on about. An’ Oi’ll add some new ones from toime ter toime. Oi ‘ope yew loike ‘em, but if’n yew don’t, well yew don’t ‘ave ter look at ‘em do yew?

 

If'n yew loike romantic books about this sort o' stuff, yew c'd take a look at P St J's "Siberian Summer", http://www.peterstjohn.net/index_9.htm But yew don't 'ave to unless yew want.



Luv from Jenno...

Jenno's Greenhouse 1:

Doin' climate science is friendly teamwork

an' discussion - sometoimes...



Jenno's Greenhouse 2:

A green'ouse is real good fer growin' greens -
'specially if'n yew add a bit o' carbon dioxide...

http://naldc.nal.usda.gov/download/53689/PDF



 



Jenno's Greenhouse 3:

Oi ain't no denier - Oi deny denyin' nuffink...

 

 



Jenno's Greenhouse 4:

Wevver yew loike it or not, weaver ain't climate...

 

 

 

 



Jenno's Greenhouse 5:

Oi reckon as 'ow there's far too much certainty
spoke when people go on about the climate.
The climate is real uncertain; cripes, Oi'm certain...!



 



Jenno's Greenhouse 6:

My climate science theory is right--

So there...!

 



Jenno's Greenhouse 7:

Countin' noses ain't doin' science. It ain't 'ow

many wot believe somefink, wot matters, but

wevver it's correct. 'Ave Oi got a consensus

on that...?

 

Jenno's Greenhouse 8:

Makin' models ain't doin' research; it's jus'

tinkerin' wiv equations an' numbers. Put in

somefink wot's wrong, or leave out somefink

wot's important, then cripes wot comes out when

yew crank the 'andle, ain't worf nuffink 'cept

ter tell yew yer wrong...

 



Jenno's Greenhouse 9:
Not ev'ryfink wot yew read about global warmin' c'n be true...

 



Jenno's Greenhouse 10:
Ev'ryfink 'as got ter fit the case-- if'n it don't, yer hypothesis ain't no good...

 





Makes yew fink don't it? Well, it ain't no more daft'n some of them ovver ideas floatin' around about the climate. An'  it don't give off no green'ouse gases neither-- well, not much any'ow... http://www.peterstjohn.net/index_9.htm

 

Ter discover the real climate, Oi reckon as 'ow yew've got ter fink outside of the green'ouse box...

 

 

Wot yew believe is true -- particularly if'n it ain't -- leastways, that's wot Oi believe...

 

It were a cosmic ray wot done it...

 

 

 



 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

 

 






Dummy's Party

Jennospot 127  "Dummy’s Birthday Party"

Yuletide is a time for merry-makin' an' parties. So come an' join some wunnerful authors fer an Online Virtual Party wiv a whole lot o' fun readin', an' a few giveaway prizes...!
 

That noice Helen Hollick, wot writes real excitin’ books about pirates an’ ovver ‘istorical stuff, loike wot ‘appened a long toime ago in 1066 f’rinstance, ‘as asked us ter write somefink about parties. Any’ow, in Widdlin’ton we ‘ave lots o’ ordin’ry parties, wiv cake an’ jelly an’ games an’ such, but there were one wot we ‘ad fer Mr Pierce, wot everybody calls “Dummy”, wot got stuck in moi mem’ry special loike. But Oi ain’t all that good about writin’ stuff down, so Oi asked moi friend Peter ter put down a few words about it. So ‘ere it is. ‘Ope yew loike it:

 

I was the last to arrive at Dummy's birthday party. Everyone was sitting stiffly around the table in the school shelter. Nobody was speaking.

I went straight up to Mr Pearce. His much-worn clothes were too tight round the waist and under the arms. He seemed ill at ease.

‘Happy birthday, Daniel,’ I said.

‘Arrgh, thank'ee kindly,’ he replied. He showed his misshapen teeth through a matted beard in what was more a grimace than a smile.

‘What's the matter Daniel? Aren't they looking after you properly?’

‘Reckon as 'ow it's more'n a little whiles since ol' Dan'l 'ad a party fer 'is birthday. Reckon as 'ow 'ee's roight thankful. There be a fine cake with candles wot Miss Winnifred gave and Miss Molly's biscuits an' all.’

‘You could look a bit happier about it,’ I said.

‘Reckon ol' Dan'l's leavin' Widdlington afore soon. 'Ee'll be roight sad ter be leavin' 'is friends.’

‘You're not leaving today at any rate, and you're not in the lockup,’ said Molly.

‘So cheer up,’ said Winnifred.

‘Have some beer,’ said Miss Hangar.

‘Don't moind if'n Oi do,’ said Daniel.

‘Everyone's saying it was Daniel who sabotaged the survey of the allotments,’ said Leta.

‘But it wasn't him!’ exclaimed Winnifred. ‘And Mr Trundle knows it.’

‘Unfortunately, people will gossip,’ said Miss Hangar.

‘We know it wasn't you, Daniel,’ I said. ‘And we're going to prove it absolutely, so that it doesn't depend just on the word of Winnifred. We've already got some clues.’

‘That's right,’ said Roy. ‘But we need you to help us.’

Dummy looked bewildered. ‘Clues?’ he said. ‘'Ow can ol' Daniel 'elp when the Parish is puttin' 'im off'n the allotments and sendin' 'im into a home?’

‘It hasn't happened yet,’ said Roy.

‘And we're going to make sure it doesn't happen,’ said Molly. ‘Miss Hangar's going to help us.’

 
‘Of course she's going to help us,’ said Jenno in her best BBC voice, ‘Aren't you Miss Hangar?’

‘I, er—’  said Miss Hangar.

‘She's on the Parish Council,’ I said. ‘And she and Mr Trundle will tell the others what the truth is. Won't you Miss Hangar?’

‘I er— that is— yes. I'll certainly tell them the truth about the sabotage when I know myself what the truth is.’

‘See Daniel?’ said Roy. ‘But there are some things we need to know. And only you can tell us.’

‘Ar—?’ questioned Daniel.

‘For instance,’ I said. ‘Did you buy those Wellington boots you promised yourself for your birthday?

‘Mr Hibberd were roight put out when ol' Dan'l asked 'im. 'Ee din't roightly know 'ow ter come out wi' it. It's the war, 'ee said. Anything wot were rubber was next ter impossible ter come by. 'Ee said as 'ow 'ee'd be roight pleased ter favour me, but that it weren't fer termorrer nor the day after. When 'ee 'ad some Wellingtons in 'ee'd be rememberin' a pair fer ol' Dan'l.’

‘You didn't buy any then?’ asked Roy.

‘Arrgh— just so.’

‘You don't possess any other rubber boots?’ asked Jenno primly.

‘Where would ol' Dan'l be findin’ a shillin' or two fer rubber boots wot 'ee don't roightly need?’ replied Daniel.

‘The footprints aren't Daniel's,’ said Roy.

‘I never thought they were,’ said Winnifred.

‘Me neither,’ said Katy.

‘You are going to help then, Miss Hangar?’ said Jenno.

‘Yes Jenno, er— Jean,’ said Miss Hangar. ‘I'll do what I can; but you know, there's really very little I can do now concerning the allotments. The project is already approved and far advanced.

‘As for The Old Vicarage, it's a decision for the Church and the vicar. Any interference by the school would only arouse resentment. But I can certainly help Mr Pearce to learn to read and write. That way he could become independent of support from the Parish.’

‘And not go into a home!’ exclaimed Molly. She stuffed her knuckles into her mouth and looked horrified towards Daniel.

‘Don't ye be a-fazed none, Miss Molly,’ said Daniel gently. ‘Ol' Dan'l baint be deaf; 'ee knows roight well wot people say. 'Ee bain't be such a dummy as 'ow they think.’

An embarrassed silence fell. It was broken by Winnifred: ‘I think it's about time we lit the candles. Who's got some matches?’

‘I'll ask my mum,’ said Leta. ‘Wait a tic and I'll nip indoors and get some.’ She ran into the school caretaker's house and emerged a moment later rattling a box of matches. ‘We didn't know how many candles to put on, but in any case, Hibberd's store only had one box—it's the war you know—so we put them all on. There are twenty.’

‘Heh, heh,’ chuckled Daniel. ‘Roight kind ye be. Arrgh— but two-and-a-half boxes 'uld 'ave been more loike.’

‘Blow them all out in one go and you can make a wish,’ said Katy.

Daniel took a deep breath and blew. Twenty tiny flames disappeared to be replaced by twenty slender columns of smoke.

‘Make a wish,’ cried everyone.

‘But don't tell anyone until it comes true,’ cautioned Jenno.

Daniel shut his eyes; held them screwed tight and then opened them again.

‘Have you made a wish?’ asked Molly.

‘Aye,’ said Daniel.

‘And so have I,’ said Molly.


 

From "Gang Petition" Chapter 7 http://www.peterstjohn.net/index_6.htm

Thank yew fer joinin' in wiv our party. Oi 'ope yew liked moi bit. If'n yew like, yew c'n foller on now ter the next bit o' the fun... 
 

1. Helen Hollick : “You are Cordially Invited to a Ball” (plus a giveaway prize) -  http://tinyurl.com/nsodv78  

2. Alison Morton : "Saturnalia surprise - a winter party tale”  (plus a giveaway prize) - http://tinyurl.com/op8fz57

3. Andrea Zuvich : No Christmas For You! The Holiday Under Cromwell - http://tinyurl.com/pb9fh3m

4. Ann Swinfen : Christmas 1586 – Burbage’s Company of Players Celebrates - http://tinyurl.com/mwaukkx

5. Anna Belfrage :  All I want for Christmas (plus a giveaway prize) - http://tinyurl.com/okycz3o

6. Carol Cooper : How To Be A Party Animal - http://wp.me/p3uiuG-Mn

7. Clare Flynn :  A German American Christmas - http://tinyurl.com/mmbxh3r

8. Debbie Young :  Good Christmas Housekeeping (plus a giveaway prize) - http://tinyurl.com/mbnlmy2

9. Derek Birks :  The Lord of Misrule - A Medieval Christmas Recipe for Trouble - http://wp.me/p3hedh-3f

10. Edward James : An Accidental Virgin and An Uninvited Guest -  http://tinyurl.com/o3vowum and - http://tinyurl.com/lwvrxnx 

11. Fenella J. Miller : Christmas on the Home front (plus a giveaway prize) - http://tinyurl.com/leqddlq

12. J. L. Oakley :  Christmas Time in the Mountains 1907 (plus a giveaway prize) - http://bit.ly/1v3uRYy

13. Jude Knight : Christmas at Avery Hall in the Year of Our Lord 1804 - http://wp.me/p58yDd-az

14. Julian Stockwin: Join the Party - http://tinyurl.com/n8xk946  
 

15. Juliet Greenwood : Christmas 1914 on the Home Front (plus a giveaway) - http://tinyurl.com/q6e9vnp
 

16. Lauren Johnson :  Farewell Advent, Christmas is come" - Early Tudor Festive Feasts - http://tinyurl.com/mmclaey
 

17. Lucienne Boyce :  A Victory Celebration - http://tinyurl.com/ovl4sus
 

18. Nancy Bilyeau :  Christmas After the Priory (plus a giveaway prize) - http://tinyurl.com/p52q7gl
 

19. Nicola Moxey : The Feast of the Epiphany, 1182 - http://tinyurl.com/pewcu6f
 

20. Peter St John:  Dummy’s Birthday - Hi! Yew're already 'ere. So there ain't no link.
 

21. Regina Jeffers : Celebrating a Regency Christmas  (plus a giveaway prize) - http://tinyurl.com/pt2yvzs
 

22. Richard Abbott : The Hunt – Feasting at Ugarit - http://tinyurl.com/o9vhn8m
 
23. Saralee Etter : Christmas Pudding -- Part of the Christmas Feast - http://tinyurl.com/lyd4d7b

 

24. Stephen Oram : Living in your dystopia: you need a festival of enhancement… (plus a giveaway prize) - http://wp.me/p4lRC7-aG

 

25. Suzanne Adair :The British Legion Parties Down for Yule 1780 (plus a giveaway prize) - http://bit.ly/1r9qnUZ 

26. Lindsay Downs: O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree -  (plus a giveaway prize)  http://tinyurl.com/kvfz468

Thank yew fer joinin' us. 'Ave yerself a real enjoyable Christmas, wiv luv from Jenno...!