I'm sure you're right. Part of the rationale behind this representation is
that in is a "normal" language - hence no apostrophe's (there's nothing
missing after all is there?!). So the ov is inappropriate. Well spotted.
Helen
----- Original Message -----
From: Matthew Francis <[log in to unmask]>
To: <[log in to unmask]>
Sent: Thursday, January 04, 2001 12:15 AM
Subject: Re: Poem and Biog
> Helen
>
> I liked your representation of Northern speech in this poem. Just one
small
> point: I don't like the representation of 'of' as 'ov' for the same reason
I
> don't like it when Linton Kwesi Johnson writes 'England' as 'Inglan', as
if
> the rest of us pronounced the 'E' as an 'E'. Or Conrad representing
Cockney
> by writing 'says' as 'sez', which always makes me wonder how he pronounced
> the word himself.
>
> Best wishes,
>
>
> Matthew Francis
> [log in to unmask]
>
> Visit my website at http://www.7greenhill.freeserve.co.uk
>
>
>
>
>
> -----Original Message-----
> From: Helen Clare <[log in to unmask]>
> To: [log in to unmask] <[log in to unmask]>
> Date: 03 January 2001 19:44
> Subject: Poem and Biog
>
>
> >A few things about myself - born and brought up in Lancashire - worked as
a
> >science teacher for several years before giving it up in favour of a
> >breakdown. Since done lots of temping, a bit of literature development
work
> >and having moved to London twelvemonth ago now work for the Arts Council
> >(for the education dept not the literature department - which thankfully
> >means I'm not involved in handing out money to poets!)
> >
> >Writing wise - I did an MA in Creative Writing at Lancaster and currently
> >teach (on-line) for their distance learning department. Been published in
> >one or two small press magazines and done some readings here and there.
> >Poems have won prizes in Lancaster Litfest and Yorkshire open comp and
one
> >was runner up in this years Arvon DT Comp. (Peter came second. ).
> >
> >Apart from writing I play the piano (enthusiastically but badly which is
> >quite liberating), follow "the" cricket (I'm in decline until the next
> >England test at the end of Feb) and have a guinea pig which I dote on to
a
> >rather worrying extent. Also a husband (who is occasionally doted on and
> >sometimes sworn at).
> >
> >I'm sure I've gone on too much, so here's a poem. I'm messing about with
> non
> >standard English and ways of working with and transribing Northern speech
> in
> >a contemporary way.
> >
> >
> >Canteen
> >
> >That were summer it started. Feranti's canteen.
> >I seen food for what it were. Frozen fat
> >on carcasses, giant tins o peaches
> >all slimy an crumbling. Right the way
> >to shinin pink bacteria like froth
> >on inside of that tank of a dishwasher.
> >
> >After a few week I knew that even Rum Baba's -
> >all gold an sticky an temptin at first
> >were nowt but slops from moment
> >they first hit yer tongue. Ant littul pool
> >of syrup round base, like sweat
> >round yer bum on bus ride home.
> >
> >First job each day was sarnies. Six ov us
> >in a line. Margein, Fillin. Liddin
> >Cuttin. Boxin. Sealin. Like the limbs an lungs
> >an guts of a monster. Six pair o legs
> >stuck out, like one o them Chinatown dragons.
> >An all the huffs an puffs an knocks
> >an gurgles an the beat of its heart
> >yer could never stifle not even wi shaggin.
> >
> >I were quick. Not just with sealin
> >my bit o sandwich run that shined
> >the print off mi finger on otplate
> >but clearin too. Fastest trolley
> >this side o Stockport. Twenny bi two
> >trays stacked wi plates, and bigguns
> >on top o littluns an me just a blur
> >in blue nylon slip and mi pumps,
> >
> >disappearin into mi own sweat.
> >An rest o factory tuned
> >into another channel. Me hummin
> >movin, bein in wavelength
> >that were never switched on.
> >An good at wipin. Not in circles
> >like you'd think. But end ter end
> >then end ter end the other way, obliteratin
> >where you'd been. And Brenda
> >
> >big woman on Hospitality wi me
> >took a likin ter me. Slipped milk
> >left over on a Friday into mi bag.
> >"Yer'll fade ter nowt" she'd say
> >wheelin that china clunkin trolley
> >into boardroom, quiet as a mouse
> >an less seen. Hips swingin
> >like a muffled bell. Like she dint know.
> >
>
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