As a lad from Carlton, I’m frequently reminded that I still have a leaning towards a Nottingham accent. I still say ‘tek’ and ‘mek’ instead of take and make and ‘Sent Anns’ instead of Saint Ann’s.
I don’t have a problem with that, but I do find it interesting to listen to younger folk and the major changes that they have made, and are making, to the local accent. I don’t try and replicate it in case I say something that I shouldn’t, but I do find myself saying “What’s he just said?”.
Looking through historical records of St Ann’s Allotments, and Hungerhill Gardens in particular, there is clearly a language difference between the flowery prose of the Victorian writers and the street language of the working man. In 1824, for example, a young lad named Thomas was being interviewed by the Superintendent of the Nottingham Sunday School Union following his application to join the school. It was a big opportunity for the boy to gain an education. The Superintendent asked him “and what does your father do after breakfast?”
Thomas: “Why, sur, he teks a walk up o’the ‘unger-‘ills”
Supt: “And what does your mother do?”
Thomas: “She weshes our shets, sur, and such things.”
Supt: “And what do you do?”
Thomas: “We guz out to play, sur.”
Supt: “And what do you do after dinner?”
Thomas: “Father guz and ligs down again – and mother gets ‘ouse cleaned up – and we goo and play, sur.”
Supt: “And what after tea?”
Thomas: “Father gangs t’ale ‘ouse, – and mother guz to sit with Mary – sometimes till he cums ‘ome – and we play till supper.”
Although I find it easy to read, I’m sure that non-Nottingham folk might struggle with some of the words. In the report of the interview the writer had to explain that the “unger-ills” were “a number of gardens, where all manner of dissipation and vice is carried on during the Lord’s day”. I’m sure that we are all up for a bit of dissipation and vice on occasions (particularly after lockdown).
In 1905, Alfred Richard Sennett, when undertaking research in Nottingham asked an allotment tenant if he would prefer to have his garden at home:
“Oh, that would be proper! Yer see, mister, if t’missis wanted a bit o’parsley or a few taters, she could just pop outside the door, and there they are, wheras we can’t go trudging off a matter o’three mile there an’ back for little things. Agin, I grows stummin’ cabbages, but they’re hardly worth the labour o’carrying all the ways home on yer back. ‘Sides, the wife and childer ‘ud git the benefit of the garden weekday; they could help me a good bit wee it, too.
Loosely translated, growing veg at home is good for your wellbeing and is the more sustainable option, particularly if you can get t’missis and kids to do the work.
