Meeting Miss Sarah.

OK, let’s have the amusing thought now. I might have forgotten it by tomorrow.

It struck me today that Sarah and I come from different sides of the tracks. She comes from a professional family and lives in a detached cottage with outbuildings and land. I, on the other hand, am a latter day peasant and was brought up mostly in social housing. There was a time not so long ago when this would have mattered and protocol would have been the order of the day.

It would have been indecorous of me to stare at her as she approached along the lane. I would have been expected to keep my eyes averted until the last moment, when I would have removed may cap, scrunched it between my hands and said

‘Good morning, Miss Sarah. I trust the day finds you well.’

‘It does indeed, Mister... erm... Jeffrey. Thank you. How are things with you?’

‘Well enough ma’am, thank ’ee. Mustn’t complain.’

‘Oh, good. You people are the salt of the earth, you know. How are Mrs Jeffrey and your seventeen children? It is seventeen now, isn’t it?’

‘I ain’t quite sure, ma’am; I ain’t counted ’em in a while.’

‘Really? Oh well, if any of them have inadvertently gone missing, I’m sure there are plenty more where they came from.’

‘Yes indeed, ma’am. Your words do give me comfort. Thank ’ee ma’am.’

‘That’s quite all right. I do believe mama has some stale bread which she intends to give to the pigs. Perhaps I could arrange to have it sent to Mrs Jeffrey instead.’

‘You’re too kind, Miss Sarah. Much obliged, I’m sure.’

‘Very well then. You may go.’

‘Thank ’ee ma’am. Thank ’ee.’

It isn’t quite like that these days, and I did say I was of sound mind, didn’t I?