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Brexit: give me a positive effect... XV

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Container ships now diverting away from inundated British ports to unload in Europe. This is turning into a full blown crisis and the government? Don’t panic buy, don’t panic buy, don’t panic buy!!!

Met friends from Seville today- no food shortages, no fuel shortages, everything normal.
 
Container ships now diverting away from inundated British ports to unload in Europe. This is turning into a full blown crisis and the government? Don’t panic buy, don’t panic buy, don’t panic buy!!!

Met friends from Seville today- no food shortages, no fuel shortages, everything normal.

Maybe Boris will venture out of Goldsmiths luxury pad in Marbella and have a look around...not that reality has ever affected anything he might say or do.
 
Just don't let it ruin your Christmas.
I bought as many Fidget Spinners as I could today.
Toy shortages are looking pretty grave in the coming months.
 
As such, not that much of an invasion!

Ah, perhaps I've known Epping longer than you have. When I was born (in nearby Ongar) cattle, sheep, pigs and geese were still, just, being sold at Epping market in the High Street. I used to go with my father to the livestock market in Bishops Stortford well into my teens, where he would often sell a few pigs. Several of the pubs had market licences. Out in the villages the vast majority of the populace were members of families that had been employed on the land for generations, and the old rural Essex dialect was still common - it's almost extinct now, driven to the northern and seaward extremes, where is has merged with a modified Suffolk accent.

Strong outposts of a rapidly bastardised Cockney existed in Harlow Newtown, Basildon and in the old estuary market towns such as Ilford and Romford, which were being quickly absorbed into London's Eastern conurbation or suburbanisation, with swathes of brutal redevelopment in the 1960s which completely removed the former rural character. It is really from those outposts, driven by rapidly increasing wealth since the 1980s, that has seen the spread of the estuarine geezer and tatted duck lips across the south of the county. There's many an old boy who I knew when I was young, who went on the hay carts to London when they were boys, who worked on threshing teams in the 20s and 30s, or who worked as the village builder stroke funeral director, or who dug the graves by hand, who wouldn't recognise this place now. All the old farm cottages, even the ex-council houses, are dwarfed by the Porsche and Range Rover 4x4s parked on paved driveways that used to be their well-tended vegetable beds.
 
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You may not think so, but remember EV is from the South East. The north of England starts early down there. You know the signs on the A1 that say "Hatfield and the North" ? Well, EV thinks that's short for "Hatfield and the rest of the North" .

Actually, you've got that wrong. So have I. In my mind the North doesn't begin till your out of the Shires, with maybe an exception for North Yorkshire. It has outposts in the old industrial and port cities though - Sheffield, Leeds, Manchester, Liverpool. The Midlands comprises Birmingham, Coventry and Stoke-on-Trent. Grimsby and Hull are figments of remembered nightmares, even when you've never been there.

Hatfield is very much south. Newport Pagnell is a service station on the M1.

The M1 itself is Midlands from the M25 till it reaches Chesterfield. It then becomes Scotland.
 
Ah, perhaps I've known Epping longer than you have. When I was born (in nearby Ongar) cattle, sheep, pigs and geese were still, just, being sold at Epping market in the High Street. I used to go with my father to the livestock market in Bishops Stortford well into my teens, where he would often sell a few pigs. Several of the pubs had market licences. Out in the villages the vast majority of the populace were members of families that had been employed on the land for generations, and the old rural Essex dialect was still common - it's almost extinct now, driven to the northern and seaward extremes, where is has merged with a modified Suffolk accent.

Strong outposts of a rapidly bastardised Cockney existed in Harlow Newtown, Basildon and in the old estuary market towns such as Ilford and Romford, which were being quickly absorbed into London's Eastern conurbation or suburbanisation, with swathes of brutal redevelopment in the 1960s which completely removed the former rural character. It is really from those outposts, driven by rapidly increasing wealth since the 1980s, that has seen the spread of the estuarine geezer and tatted duck lips across the south of the county. There's many an old boy who I knew when I was young, who went on the hay carts to London when they were boys, who worked on threshing teams in the 20s and 30s, or who worked as the village builder stroke funeral director, or who dug the graves by hand, who wouldn't recognise this place now. All the old farm cottages, even the ex-council houses, are dwarfed by the Porsche and Range Rover 4x4s parked on landscaped driveways that used to be their well-tended vegetable beds.
That’s an exquisitely turned account of life there EV. I think you have a touch of the Vivian Stanshall about you. When I got to the bit about attending the market to sell livestock in your youth, I was fully expecting the account to extend to you being scalded by your mother on your return home for selling the pigs for a bag of beans.

Had you considered publishing An Essex Bestiary, with other notable inclusions beyond the Estuarine Geezer and the Tatted Duck Lips?
 
Ah, perhaps I've known Epping longer than you have. When I was born (in nearby Ongar) cattle, sheep, pigs and geese were still, just, being sold at Epping market in the High Street. I used to go with my father to the livestock market in Bishops Stortford well into my teens, where he would often sell a few pigs. Several of the pubs had market licences. Out in the villages the vast majority of the populace were members of families that had been employed on the land for generations, and the old rural Essex dialect was still common - it's almost extinct now, driven to the northern and seaward extremes, where is has merged with a modified Suffolk accent.

Strong outposts of a rapidly bastardised Cockney existed in Harlow Newtown, Basildon and in the old estuary market towns such as Ilford and Romford, which were being quickly absorbed into London's Eastern conurbation or suburbanisation, with swathes of brutal redevelopment in the 1960s which completely removed the former rural character. It is really from those outposts, driven by rapidly increasing wealth since the 1980s, that has seen the spread of the estuarine geezer and tatted duck lips across the south of the county. There's many an old boy who I knew when I was young, who went on the hay carts to London when they were boys, who worked on threshing teams in the 20s and 30s, or who worked as the village builder stroke funeral director, or who dug the graves by hand, who wouldn't recognise this place now. All the old farm cottages, even the ex-council houses, are dwarfed by the Porsche and Range Rover 4x4s parked on landscaped driveways that used to be their well-tended vegetable beds.

Is this an episode of Look back in Ongar?
 
You may not think so, but remember EV is from the South East. The north of England starts early down there. You know the signs on the A1 that say "Hatfield and the North" ? Well, EV thinks that's short for "Hatfield and the rest of the North" .

I must confess that I was born and raised in Basildon.
 
I had erroneously placed Gillian Taylforth (any excuse to work her into a thread) in Essex. She is in fact a Londoner, born in Islington and indeed the infamous ‘unexpected item in bagging area’ episode took place not in Essex but in Herts, near to the aptly named Trotters Bottom.

H6fxWHT.jpg


That leaves only the Range Rover connection.
 
I'm really enjoying this thread particularly, but by no means confined to, the pithy exchanges between @TheDecameron and @eternumviti. Sometimes I can't stop laughing, and I ponder on what it would be like to meet them together in the pub, or a decent wine bar.

I'm finding it hard not to gloat over the unfolding brexit disaster.
 
Gloating would be the last thing on my mind, I think it's tragic and always have. Admittedly zealots who were dismissive of warnings and indicators from people affected, who continue to double down on it - get much less sympathy, but this is a horrendously divisive, avoidable national disaster with no tangible benefit for the vast majority.
 
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There was a young lady from Ongar
Who had an affair with a conger
They said 'How does it feel, to sleep with an eel?'
She said 'Just like a man, only longer'.

Almost certainly Spike Milligan.
 
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