Roppy & the Gherkins

When I was around 10 or 11, my brother and I called for our pal Richard Robson. It was on these kind of occasions that we got to know his Mum, Lily. Although we were from very similar backgrounds there were some odd class issues exposed on occasions, which I still find intriguing.

This day was a Sunday morning following a Saturday afternoon and evening which had seen his family at a wedding - it was from all accounts a very grand affair.

Lily wasted no time telling us about it, as she leaned against her breakfast bar in the newly fitted kitchen - a kitchen that was in itself a sure signal that this house - like our own - was no longer a council house - but was now privately owned.


"Richard's still upstairs getting washed in the bath room - we had a lie in this morning, since we were up so late drinking champagne at the wedding"

Richard of course was neither getting washed or in the bath room. He was in the toilet having a dump. Or in the parlance of a our childhood, he was having a "bab".

As Lily launched into the description of the sumptuous banquet they had gorged on the previous day, she was interrupted by a loud call from the small room at the top of the landing -


"MAAAM - ME BAB'S TURNED GREEN !!"

Although presumably mortified, Lily never broke step, responding calmly -


"Don't worry Richard - it's probably just the effect of all the champagne you drank yesterday !"

There was a moments pause before Richard responded.


"NAAAH - I RECKON IT MUST A BEEN T' GERKHINS !!"


He pronounced Gerkhin's almost as two words - "Ghergk - Kins" in the West Yorkshire way that only true Yorkshiremen can pronounce.

I don't recall how she extricated herself from this embarassment - presumably I was too busy biting my lip and trying not to wet myself.

All these years later I'm still fascinated by this - we all used words like 'bab' all the time - why she should have tried to put airs and graces on is a mystery. We didn't however ever use the word "Mam" and considered it somewhat beneath us - similarly, gherkins sounded a very uncouth food, which wouldn't have found itself on the table at our house - irrespective of champagne accompaniment.

Why the toilet should suddenly have become a "bathroom" is also perplexing. On other similar occasions we'd heard her shout up the stairs for Richard to "Hurry up and get veshed I want to use t' toilet".

The transition of the word washed, to weshed, and finally veshed, being a particularly extreme and, I would guess, deliberate use of Yorkshire dialect which gave up any pretence to higher social status.