Have you noticed it too?
It generally happens in public houses. Last weekend I was playing pool with Lord Elpus and Obbsy in the 'Bridge' in Upper Beeding - a fine establishment but a stone's throw from the forge that cast (from an original mould) the one and only Good Friend Derek. Okay, so I might have elaborated about the current well -being of the said goat's health but you get the drift. It is a good place to be; Upper Beeding.
Until that is, they call you a 'Northerner'.
Now, Upper Beeding is just a slingshot away from Brighton - the home of the Pink Pound, infamous Massage Parlours and the ruined West Pier. Okay, so you didn't know that the west Pier was ruined - you learn a lot on here, don't you? This is an educational blog - I should get a grant for scribbling this stuff, I really should. But, as I chew on the celery stick of life, Scout's Honour Sir, we were addressed as 'Northerners'! In a pub in Ingerland!
I dread to think how the erstwhile drinkers of the Bridge would address the drinkers in the Helwith Bridge on Saturday then. They must be Positively Polar!
So - One end of the dominion to the other: Last weekend almost on the south coast of good ol' Blighty and this coming weekend in the far frozen north of Ingerland.
By then we shall have thrown away the second test. By then the 'Mericans will be winning the 'Open' and with a good bit of luck, by then, a 'Merican will be beating the Frogs in the Tour de France!
And I will (with a bit of luck and a following wind) have finally conquered the last of the Yorkshire Three Peaks. I am off to stay in luxury once more within the ample grounds of Odd Job Hall, to stay with the Potential Bigamist and Odd Job, in the frozen tundra of the far north.
Thoroughly looking forward to it too. I shall take my blogging type-writer.