My grand-dad came out with a classic once. He worked at Wearmouth pit, and, every Sunday afternoon, he'd take me for a walk down the river to see the ships and we'd end up on Roker beach. Then he'd let me have a paddle in the sea while he sat down and read his Sporting Life or whatever. One time, I must have bothered him just a little too much - "How far can I gan out grand-dad?" " just gan till thee bloody 'at floats lad!" D'you know, it took me years to figure out what he meant
my mam used to tell us, if we were good we could stay up for an extra half hour, whoopee ****in do like.
I still divint get it? Your granda wad at wearmouth. ****ing hell did he build it? Sorry me dad was also wearmouth.