20 Apr

For day 18 of napowrimo

Where me dad is up in bed
With a night-shift sleepy head
And we’d better shut our faces
Or we’re battered
Where me mum is making tea
For our 8-strong family
An imbalance in the places
Really matters
Where we always play outside
No matter how the weather tries
The only thing that stops play
Is the yell
That signifies it’s time
To wash off the dirt and grime
It’s bath-night, it’s Sunday
And we smell.


7 Responses to “‘Ome”

  1. Crow April 20, 2016 at 9:35 pm #

    Love this.

    • BRH April 20, 2016 at 9:38 pm #

      Thank you. The dialect is only slightly accented. Blimey!

  2. Karina Pinella April 20, 2016 at 11:54 pm #

    Aye! ‘Ome is where the ‘earth is, me boy. Or, ‘eart, or thou art in good ‘ands with 8 people reminding you smell. Blimey!

  3. Poet Rummager April 21, 2016 at 6:56 am #

    ‘ome is where the ‘eart is! Charming — was this how it was growing up in your family? There were 6 kids?

    • BRH April 21, 2016 at 1:57 pm #

      Aye it was. 6 kids and I was the eldest. Last one in the bath came out as grubby as they went in!

  4. paula graham April 21, 2016 at 9:46 am #

    very, very poignant…I do remember the days we only had a bath for all 5 of us on Saturday night. Hmmm, those were the days!! or so they tell us.

    • BRH April 21, 2016 at 2:20 pm #

      Thanks Paula – they were indeed the days!

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