‘The LIfe of Bri’ author gives you another dollop of joy with the boys from North Manchester. REMEMBER, REMEMBER THE 31st of SEPTEMBER! One of the occupants of the house on Hugo Street raced to open the front door panic stricken, whoever was banging the knocker must be in severe danger, at worst it was a life or death situation. No one banged like that unless it was an emergency. The door was flung inwards and the woman looked out with stress etched across her middle aged face. Two boys, one pram with a large bundle that appeared tied together roughly in the shape of a human being. “Penny for the Guy, missus.” a hand was thrust at her at the same time as the question. “Excuse me?” she asked pulling her eyes from the pram to the face of a street urchin. “Penny for the Guy… “ Stewart said again, then presented the ‘Guy’ with a sweeping arm, I thought he was going to say ta dah! “Guy Fawkes?” she asked with bemusement. “Yeah, Guy Fawkes, bonfire night, you know?” “It’s September!” “What is?” he asked. “It’s only September, bonfire night is in November!” she said harshly. “Are you sure?” he asked her then turned to me with a questioning face. “I think bonfire night might of been moved this year, miss, because it keeps raining and the fires go out, so they’ve moved it, yeah, thats what I think.” I said rather more convincingly than I had expected. “Moved bonfire night? It has to be November the 5th, that’s when it took place, you can’t have bonfire night on another night.” she said as she folded her arms slowly and rather coldly. “Course they can!” Stew said. “Yeah, thats right, two years ago it was on the 4th of November, I remember, cos thats me birthday!” I agreed. “That was one night, and only because it fell on a Sunday. They are not going to move it two months.” “What, are you ‘polistician’?” “A what?” “A polistician, a member of ‘Pearly Men’?” Stew carried on. “I just know they wouldn’t change the date of bonfire night, little boy!” “Well no wonder Guy Fawkes wanted to blow the ‘Pearly Men’ up if they are all like you, awkward! And not believing ornery people like me and Hammy. We might just not burn our Guy, we might burn an ‘iffigee’ of you.” “Yeah, bet Guy Fawkes had trouble with people like you, bet he was just a dead happy man until you lot made him so mad he wanted to blow you all up.” I edged closer to my friend as I gave him my support. “I am not a politician or a member of Parliament, I am just saying its highly unlikely they would change the date.” “Ha, highly unlikely… but not impossible, so, penny for the Guy, Miss?” Stew jammed his hand out inches from the crossed arms of the bemused lady. “Who is it, Dorothy?” a voice called from inside her house. “Two boys, Guying!” “Guying? What do you mean?” “They say bonfire nights been moved back two months.” she started to smile now. “They’re pulling your leg, Doe, let me see.” his words getting louder as he approached the door. The man was large with a big balding head, a torso wide and heavy beneath a checked shirt, the hand he place on the ladies shoulder to move her to one side was the size of a coal shovel. I gulped and edged back towards the pram, Stews outstretched hand shook ever so slightly but stayed in the receive position. “Let me see these two shysters.” he said as he first looked at Stew and then when he failed to make him break his stare he turned to me. Luckily I was checking my laces on my slip on shoes at that moment and missed the chance of out staring him. “So, bonfire night. When is it then?” “The 31st.” Stew said confidently. “Of September?” “Yep!” “31st of September.” his face grinning and his right hand rubbing his stubbily Desperate Dan chin. “Yep!” Stew replied with more certainty, I think he had convinced himself now. “Here’s me thinking there are only 30 days in September!” his eyebrows raised ever so slightly as his eyes widened in mock shock. “What?” Stew asked for clarification. “Last time I looked there were only 30 days in September. Has that changed too?” “Er, 30 days have October, Avril, June and Cucumber… all the rest have 31, except… er, one month with 28… “ “February?” the man helped. “Yeah, February which can have other days added every few years. See!” “See what?” he asked “You got it all ar** about t*t, and which month is Cucumber?” “I think he meant to say that what they’ve done is taken one day out of Cucumb… I mean November and borrowed it to September just for this year. They are just testing to see if it works better.” I tried desperately to undig this very deep hole. “Oh, Geoff, just give ‘em a threpny bit, Corra’s on in a minute.” “Let me see this Guy first, I’m not giving these drips any money for a rubbish Guy Fawkes.” the giant of a man said to her face then turned and bent down with his large backside on his heels. “mmmm, shabby coat, legs are a bit short… “ he squeezed the leg feeling the newspaper that had been balled and shoved in, bits of dried, corn coloured, dried grass stuck out of the arms and legs by the gloves and shoes. “Don’t think it’s worth anything more than the penny they are asking Doe, look at this mask… “ he pulled it upwards and revealed the horror filled face of David Marsden, open mouthed and wide eyed. “What the ….?” the man squealed and jumped back like he had looked Satan in the face. “Is he alive?” “Yeah, we’ve been take him for a walk.” I said. “Oh, the poor little thing.” the woman stepped over her husband, who sat on his backside still in shock. “Are you okay, son?” she asked the four year old boy. “Yes.” he said meekly. “Have these horrible boys made you dress like this?” “No, we are playing bonfires. I’m a dummy and got to be quiet.” “Does your mother know you’ve been dressed like this?” she asked. “Can we just have our threpence, miss.” Stew asked stepping between child and woman. “I don’t think this is legal, you can’t truss up little boys and pass them off as Guy’s. Take him home, immediately.” “So one minute you’re a ‘polistician’, now your a ‘bannister’! You’re a right jack of all trains, aren’t cha?” he mumbled under his breath. “Listen, I’ll give you a shilling. But only if you take him home and get all this rubbish out of his clothes. Deal?” “Deal!” I said instantly. “Wait, we have only just started, we might make a bomb outside the Lightbowne pub.” “I want to play bonfire men… “ Dave cheered clapping his mittened hands together. “Geoff, get up off your fat backside and go get my purse out of the living room, come on you big lummocks.” he raised himself to his feet and grimaced evily at both me and Stew. “Go and get her purse, Geoffery… bobbles bon bon!” Stew said smiling around at me referring to the new series on ITV, The Lovers.” “Hey, you cheeky little bleeder!” the man made a move towards the three of us. “Just go and get the purse… go on.” she had held her thin arm to stop his move. He turned and was away for less than thirty seconds, passed her an old, well worn brown leather purse, growled at Stew who stood with a grin that would have looked at home on any happy cat from Cheshire. “Here, a shilling between you two and you,” she leaned down to Dave, “you can have a shilling of your own, you deserve it.” “Oh fink you, missus.” his tiny alabaster hand now free of the grey mitten grasped the coin. “I think you’ve got off cheaply, we could have demanded more. That’s our night over… “ “Get on with you, make sure he gets home safe. We have a deal, okay.” she said insistently. “Deal!” Stew said reluctantly, then spat in his right palm. It was a large mouthful of spittle, not without a little heavy flem in there. The wet hand was offered up to a shocked lady. “Do you know? I’m going to take your word on this occasion, no need for a handshake.” she raised her hands up to her chest like she was surrendering. “We don’t lie, miss.” I said. “No, bonfire night in September… go on, bugger off.” The money was pocketed by Stew and I began pushing the pram with our ‘Guy’ in it towards the shops on Lightbowne road. “Dave, we are going to teach you all about sharing now.” “I like learning fings.. “ he said gleefully. “Yeah, that’s good, I’m sure there’s enough money for a bubbly gum for you!” Stew smiled at me, conspiracy afoot. “Yay, I love bubblies!” he squealed. “Yay indeed, now let me look after your money, and pull your mask back down, just in case we see somebody. We might make a few more bob for bommie night.” The Life of Bri by Brian Hamblett now available in paperback and download from Amazon. The Life of Bri facebook page now with over 100 members...thank you guys.
Posted on: Tue, 07 Oct 2014 10:27:39 +0000
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