Read New Statesman review of TSP's Alan Mahar's novel, 'Flight Patterns' here

Read TSP's Julia Bell's story, 'Violet' on the Spiked website here

Read a review of TSP's Jackie Gay's novel, 'Wist' on the Live 247 website here

Read reviews of TSP's Alan Beard's novel, 'Taking Doreen Out of the Sky' here

Read Lit-Net review of 'A Lone Walk' by Guy Y Davis award-winning novel published by Tindal Street Press in 2001 here

THE BESTFROM TSP

---

First read this story by Godfrey, on a train back from Birmingham, on the way back from meeting the Tindal Street writers. It made me cry from the start. I love Birmingham, and find the Birmingham accent sad and haunting, so found the use of brummy dialect really complimented this tragic little story. I think this story is perfect. The idea of writing in dialect from an illiterate person's point of view was both bold and inspired. I've been carrying the story around in my head for a few years now. When I heard that Tindal Street were using is as part of their 20th anniversary anthology, 'Going the Distance' I begged them to let me use it on the site. The anthology is one of the best, most consistently strong anthologies I've read. It showcases the talent of Alan Mahar, Annie Murray, Jackie Gay, Joel Lane and Julia Bell, together with other impressive new authors. I will always have an enormous soft spot for Godfrey's story though and I'm absolutely delighted to be able to publish it on the site as a taster for 'Going the Distance.'

---

'ASTONISHING SPLASHES OF COLOUR' by Clare Morrall (TSP 2003)
Was over the moon to hear that Clare Morrall's brilliant debut novel has been shortlisted for the 2003 Man Booker Prize, not only because its a sad, scary, touching book, but because it should assure Tindal Street the widespread respect and attention they deserve.

---

'HER MAJESTY' (TSP 2002)
Modern love in 21st century Britain, in all its living, breathing, screaming technicolour. Completely diverse but painfully recognizable characters share their most intimate moments with the reader. Top class writing. Buy it, then buy everyone you love a copy

---

'HARD SHOULDER' (TSP 2000)
Winner of the Raymond Williams Community Publishing Prize 2000: stories from the pens and hearts of young writers from Britain's second city. An anthology of the highest order. Nobody does it better

---

DISCLAIMER - Some images used in ths site have been sent to me to use. If there is anything from your own site and you have not given consent, then please email me and I will gladly give you credit or remove the images from the site. No violation of copyright is intended

---

---

View My Guestbook
Sign My Guestbook

---

'AND WEEL NO WOT TO DO'
by Godfrey Featherstone

Dere Marleen,
Well Oi, Im ere, Marleen. And your ther there, Marleen. Ope you har harwell an in the pike � luveley pinke ?!�! Orlroite? Im sur sir-viving. Djuste about. But thiking ov yow you meks me appi.
Wee dint mene it. Did we? Eh?
I dint mene it You dint mene it. No!? You neent be so unappi unhappi, Marleen.
Abowte er. Wee djuste dint no wot to do. She woz bewtiful, bute, butifule, a bueifule litel thing. Wee luved er.
She woz the reeley nice thing in mi live, Marleen. Alonga you, Marleen. Alonga you, mi litel chuckie.
Won tit luvely wen you woz grower growing bigge and bigge and we luved and luved still!?�! We felet felte more and more like luving orle the time. And we saw yow you growing and we sed the babbies cumimg and we smilede a lot! Sumthing to live fore. Eh?
She woz luveli wen she kem out � like a brid, like a berd. She fli, flu, flue, floo out. And she woz so quite � djust the wun smack and the wun cri to get er bref, breth going. It woz nice and warm in that ospitle. Cumfi. She fed offa yore tittie and I felet like fee, feding offa the othere wun! Mi mothe, mi mowthe din tarf watere?�!� And they were evere so kinede and showed uz. Ow to pin er nappie on. And give er er botel. � If yore titties went dri � and luke after er, but it woz difficult, difficult to unnerstand.
Ever-i-thing.
And we dint loike like arsking um coz they wer nice. Wee thort weed lerene, Well I leren�t to rite din�nt I, even if you cunt quite manidge it, swete-art. Will sumbodi rite wot you saye wen you rite back. Or I s�ll never ear anyhting agen. Djuste sende these out?!
Pleeze. Pleeze sumbodi reding this, pleeze rite back for Marleen. Oi Im evere so loneli I sumtoimes don thi, think, thinke Im ere. And if I ent got Marleen. Ent got a litel traice ov Marleen, Is�ll djust van-ish. I wunt be ere at orl. (Pleeze don rede that bit to er, pleeze don�t.)
It woz diffe different wen we got ere to ower noo ome. Up ther in that towre baloc, bloc wernit luvvie?
So colde. And Frite-ning.
We lerent tho! A Bit. And litel Tina she choke, she chookled, chuckeled and she gar glurguled.
Wee thort a live, a loife on ower owne and a babbi � on ower owne. We woz appi them first fewe daze. Appi more than before.
Oi I dint mene it. We dint. Did we? No. NO!?!
Things startid to go rong a bit. She dinarf smelle, ower Tina. And we cunt remembre wot to do muche. We wipide er bumme, but it dinarf get redde and urt er � a lot!?�!
Well, she startid croi cri-ing, and, well, she dint stop for owers. Til she fel aslepe. It felt like daze. Sune it woz daze. Sumtoimes. And you cride. You dint stope mutche, even wen I kist, kissed you. I cunt cri. Im a man and mene don�t cri, but I felet like cri-ing. Mi ed woz urting orl the toime.
We orl got so tried tired. Orl in a daze. Tina dint unnerstand. Nun ov uz reeley did unnerstand.
The loite lite dint elp, cos it woz so I up and if we went offa slepe for a minit ore toow, it woak us up. It woak us up erli and kep us awaik late agen. Ore the rane, the noize ov it. Anna winde! Ratteling and the windows. Djuste wen a bitta peece kem.
I got ANGRI withe the lite. And the winde anna rane?!!!
Then it woz getting summere and liter still. Otter. If you opined the windows to kule kool uz, well the winde kem in strongge and the noize from the citi and the brum, brum ov the kars orl the toime, time, brum, Brum, BRUMMM, djust like that. Orl the time.
Them pepul startid cuming, cos silli olde bagge Missis Perkins tolde um, nozi, bludi olde bat! They smilede, but I dint like um.
It woz orlrite them smileing. It woz orlrite them showing uz wot to do. But it woznt wen e sed and she sed � otherwoize they mite av to tek babbi away. NOT orlrite � at ALL?!
I dint like um then. Tekking ower babbi. And frite-ning you! Well, uz. And we forgot wot they sed.
Then yore poor olde titties got sore � I tried kissing um betere and they wernt anni betere and you stoped me kissing um betere. I dint like that. You dint like that. You dint like fedeing babbie no more. Well a bit. Then a litel bit, then nun.
The botel woz no goo gud. The ma, mi, milke woz orlrite, but babbie wunt suck it. Mebbe we shud ave given it er colde. But it got ot too quicke and then she scremed and screemed wen we triede. It woz no use cos she scremed and screemed wen we dint.
That woz wen I erd the thuddes wen I woz aslepe a bit. You were bagnin yore ed agenst the worl a lot, remembre? You sed you cud see stars wen you dint bagn yore ed and you cud see stars we you did bagn yore ed, so you mite as well bludi bagn yore ed!
And dint we larf! We larfed til we cried. And we cried til we cud see the stars owt the windows aniway.
Wen babbie woz quite, it woz funni. There woz the um ov the citi, but the quite sort ov sang.
It sang in my ed and med me fele dizi. I dint no weather I cud stan dup ore not, but I did stan dup. And wun noat, note kep whining and mi brane throbed. Yore brane throbbed too. I cud fele it throbeing for a long toime. I urt a lot and I woried a lot. You worried a lot.
Wen babbie cried and wen she screemed, them upstares and downstares use to bagn as well and showte narsti things at us. You startid feleing like bagning the babbies ed. You kep feleing like that.
Wen you bagned yore ed it was cos otherewise yud bagn the babbies ed. Bagning er ed. Picking er up and thro � ing er. Agenst the worl?
I got to say I felt like that. I got to fele a lot like that and wen you tole me that I felt like thro � ing you agenst the wol and the more you tole me, the more I felet it and wen them peepul kem, I felet like thro � ing THEM against the worl. I got so ANGRI. Ever-i-thing was begging, begin � ning to mek me angri. Even mi toothebrushe was mekking me angri wen it urt mi gummes.
Well, wot with them pepul cumimg and them peepul upstares and downstares. Wot withe the babbies cri-ing, we cunt go owt mutche and we got veri angri sumtoimes. And you fel down sumtoimes cos we got weaker. But babbie got quiter for a bit.
Then wen we went owt for a bit and brung mlike, milke and food for uz (fags fore me and them frute gummes for you) the babbie got louder agen.
Evere so shrille?!�
I felet mi brane woz going to burste outta me ed veri soone. But it dint. Thinking ov it knowe, it wudda bein betere if it ad. Insoide mi brane felet loike a prison � hah! � But I dint fli owt. No!
Babbi SCREEMED lowdwer, longer. I eld mi ears. I cud ardly stan dup. So dizi. I eld on the worls and they sway � ed, the baloc, bloc swayed. Babbie smiled, gave a litel larf. Mi brane bled red smoake. In mi eyes. In mi ed.
I toke its litel ankels and eld it upsaide downe over the railings. And I felet sutch a releve. I kep doing that. It woz a secrete release. Well, more than a bit.
Eache toime the babbie dint utta a sounde.
Babbie adda turnede ower wurld upsaide down and I turned ers upsaide downe. I no I shunna, but it elped. It did!
The last time I dun it woz a longe time. I felet mi grippe weaken-ing and er ankels slipping. Orl the citi soundes went. It got veri quite. I auled er up and brung er in and sat er downe and ran to the railings and jumped up and did a andstand on the railings ad mi eyes blurred ad the winde blew at me and I sway-ed and I woz wirling rounde and rounde faster and faster and the sunne woz a plugole suck-ing me up and I fel face-downe KRASH on the blac, balc balconi.
The KRASH eckoed throo a sort ov WOOOO-shing wirling tunnel in mi ed and I woz swoo-ping downe it towardes a litel boy sat in the sofa corner, ugging Tedi, shiver-ing and cri-ing with orl weerd shadoes leeping from the fire. Dad woz cuming in.
Mum killed erself Krissmas Eve and Dad cried and then e went out and got pist. I woz alone all night and e kem in, walking throo torn-up bits ov presents. Not cri-ing. Angri. And I sed Mummi, mummi. E sed shes ded, boy, gone. And I sed Daddi and cried agen. Then I woz on the flore and dad ad bludie nuckels and mi noze woz wet with blud and snot.
E sed Don�t Dad me, oi ent yore fuck-in dad. And you can fuck-in stop cri-ing NOW??!!
So I dint Dad im. I dint cri. Agen, til Tina.
The second time I tooke the nive offa you nere babbie, I djuste new we ad to tawke. Seeryuslie. And we put babbie downe. And I eld you ad we eld ad kist each othere. And we sed we luvved babbie. Evere so mutch. And we ad a gud cri. They adnt let me luv anithing befor. But I luved babbie and I luved you, Marleen. We cunt giv babbie up. Ower litel Tina, ow cud we?
They sed it ud be for the beste, but it wunt. Ow cud we? We felet evere so lone-li ther in that towre. An we eld on to eache othere. Above the wurlde that dint like uz. That dint unnerstand.
We cunt urt ower litel Tina � I luved er beste ov orl the wurlde! More than Tedi wen I woz a babbie ad you more than Cindi wen you woz a babbie. But they dint cri and screme and shit theirselves.
They dint sing with no words � so buteiful � neithere. But more screme and cri. We cunt urt er. We ad felet loike it a lot � djust to stop er. Djust for a bit ov peece and quite sumtoimes. But we nevere it er, the irone woz a hac, ack, aksi, acksident and the bruzes kem wen she thin. Wen we eld er tite they djust kem. Then.
So we cunt urt er ower butie, ower loveli litel buteiful, cud we, mi litel luve? And we cunt urt owerselves enuff reeley to kill uz, ow cud we? We luved eache othere. And we thorte a longe toime and we ugged. We thorte abowte jumping, but it woz so Hi. And frite-ning. And wot wudve appened if wun ov us staid alive. Eh?
So we med ower mindes up, din we, mi shugare. It ud be natchrul, We�d die nat, natch, natchural. We djust wunt eat. And Babbie. She djust wunt eat. Babbie wud die natchrul. Withe uz.
She got so luvely the babbie wen she got thinne. Er skinne shone pail silvere in the moonelite. Then it got like ivori and blu and sumtoimes you cud see throo it, well halve throo it. And the mussells and veins wer wurking away ther. A bit like a wippit orl bunched and graceful. A live and nuth-ing wasted. Too spair if you see wot I
Nere the toime, er eyes got bigger. Even more bute-iful. You cud see the reel er. She cud see the reel me. In ower eyes.
Then they orl kem and sheed died befor we ad.
And they dun orl them things to uz and callt uz them names. They lied and they lied, they DID!?!�
And no wun wud lissen wen we tried to tell wi it appen?ed,the trouthe. They wernt intrestid. In the trou-the. They red me from the paperes in ere. Did they rede you from the paperes in there?
They called uz monstres like them Nartzis and ole Adlof Hitel. We woz nevere monstres. Weer not monstres nowe
I feele a bit bad about wot we dun, Marleen. I carnt elp it. They med me. Dont you feel bad. Not even a bit bad, orlrite, mi duck. Cos your NOT bad. And I�m not. Weer not. Are we? Eh?
Well, I�m ere nowe and your ther, Marleen. Well I spose I�m gladde I�m ere. Inne a way. But I�m not gladde your there. But in ere its like the orfinage after they founde dad ded. Ad the borstle. I no wot to do ere. No more Tina, no more Marleen, no more ome, but I�m at ome if you see wot I mene.
I no wot to do.
If I do rong they it me.
If I do rite they it me (sumtoimes)
I no rite from rong (sumtoimes)
Ther rite from rong
So sumtoimes I no wot to do.
You neene so unappi abowte er, abowte Tia. We djust cunt unnerstand.
That�s orl
I rote this so wel cos I ad the toime. And you�ll ave the time too the gard sed if sumone�ll rite wot you say. I�ll ave the time to do sum more I ex-spect. O yes an

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
x APPI KRISMASS x
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Marleen. That�s wi I�ve got the time. I�m bagned up in mi sel on me owne. Ther downe stares aving a parti. And getting a bit pist on the quite. Ther getting lowder. I dint get no Krismass present, but they�ve promist me wun wen they cum up. I no wot that ll be, but I ennafraide. At leest wen they it me I no Im a live.
Aniway, I�m not nobodis nuthing. I�m yores, ent I? Eh? But I miss mi Tina and mi Marleen � and even mi litel Tedi sumtoimes � So quite and no bothere to nobodi. Dont cri abowte Tina. Its so ard in this loife wen you dunno wot to do. She dint no. We dint no, so mebbe she�s bettere ov were she is now. I orlways luv you, mi treasure so you tek care. If I dunt see you in this loife, in the next. mebbe. � And Tina.
And mebbe weel no wot to do. (Sumtoimes).