He did not mind the new store, but when some stirrer said that there was a motel coming, he shot through to find a better hole further inland, muttering that 'the place is getting as big as one of them southern city places!’
'Cos be they sisters mothers aunts or daughters, all laydeez must be treated tenderly, they're dainty an' they're neat, an' they don't have much to eat […]
Pay raised and sitting out the winter in the boomhouse running the winch, moving the containers around, telling the men what to do on deck.
[I]t was something that every schoolboy of my generation almost `had' to do, as obligatory a proof of impending manliness as scrumping apples or pulling girls' pigtails. I told myself I'd never scrump gooseberries again, or go scrumping apples with Huw and Moi ...
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