Yorkshire Words Of The Week

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From: J Atkins, Greaves Lane, Stannington, Sheffield.

I WOULD like to add on behalf of my friend Geoff Ward of Bingley Lane, Stannington the word hipping as in “put that bairn a hipping on” to dialect words and sayings.

This is defined as a nappy and this is used in the far area of Fulwood, Sheffield.

This word was featured on the BBC radio show Call My Bluff by Frank Muir, the panel failing to get the solution.

I am also offering one of my own – scummer – defined as a dustpan used for shovelling “black” (coal dust) on the coal fire at Eventide.

Please keep this column going as it is part of our heritage and history.

From: Glenys Collins, Haxby, York.

Further to the letter from WH Bradley on hobble-di-hoy, this is definitely a dialect word from rural Norfolk. My Gran, born in Toftwood, near Dereham, used to call me a hobble-di-hoy from time to time while in my early teens in the 1950s.

The meaning, in my case, was although taller than average I was not yet ready for adult clothes. Personally I liked the name, I thought it made me a rebel, a wild type!

This is the first time that an in-comer from Norfolk has been able to contribute to this column, quite a feat. It’s always very entertaining and long may it continue.

From: Ruth Darley, Low Moorgate, Rillington, Malton.

I OFTEN remember the sayings of people when I worked as a home help. One lady, when asked if her daughter had been, replied: “She’s bin neerther nye na bye” (been neither near or past).

Another lady said of her retired husband: “Ee’s nowt te dea an bet wit” (Nothing to do and beat with it.)

One lady said: “I clean these brasses every week and nobody ever remarks about them.”

Her husband replied: “Well dean’t clean ‘em ni moor, an the’ll all talk aboot ‘em.” (Don’t clean them anymore and they will all talk about them).

From: SK Stead, New Lane, Skelmanthorpe, Huddersfield.

YOUR As I Was Saying is addictive. I find myself saying “Ahm at a reight noit” (does this derive from knot?) and that I will just have “a bitin on” when I have not the time – or the inclination – to make a proper meal.

I also have a sympathetic laugh when I recall the true story of a farmer on the flanks of the Pennines in South Yorkshire who told the POW keeper to “get agate an mek a fire”. And he did!

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