Weet, Weet, Weet!

Eh, me! Siccan a weet twa month jist by! The morn , we’ll be intil July. Howpfully the widder will tak’ a turnie for the better. Weel, it cwid hardly be waur! Rain ilka day near, for acht wiks! An’ we’re the lucky fowk up here in ee nor’east neuk. Doon in England, sic a sotter! Fields wi’ blaadit craps, mair like sweemin-pools nor guid fermin cwintry. A’ the darg o’ the fermers waasht awa’ in ee floods. Nae jist ferms. Toons an’ wee villages drookit oot. Hooses twa-three fit deep in glaur. There wis a hoosie we saw on ee televeesion, an’ afore wir verra een, the wa’s collapsed, an’ a’thing wis swept awa’. Sic a hert-brak for ee peer aul’ couple fa bade there, just staanin’, nae able tae lift a finger tae save their haill wardle. Lives lost an’ a’. A bairn comin’ hame, wha nivver won there, sookit awa, doon ee torrent. A peer chiel in his motor, owercome by the watter poorin’ doon ee road like an airm o’ the sea itsel’! Global warmin’, they ca’ it. Weel fitivver wye , oor widder pattrins hiv’ changed ower ee years. I min’ in 1995, in September, a doon-fa’ o’ rain like fit I hid nivver seen afore in a’ my life. Nae jist stottin’ aff ee roadie, bit blatterin’ doon wi’ sic a force, it fleggit the verra hairt in a body. Syne messages on ee local radio, tae say that ‘is road, an’ ‘at road wis closed tae traffic. Nae wye intil toons, nae wye oot o’ toons! Sic a meneer! An’ noo it’s happenin’ mair nor ivver. Ach, weel! Es aifterneen, the sun is shinin’ like tragedy hid nivver been! Fa’ kens? Maybe July will be simmer!!

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