Blagthorpe, Yorkshire, England 1886. Finest pit int’ whole world.

Life were hard back then

I were standing by fire in pit head office watching our eldest Lucy shovelling coal into railway wagon, as fast as any man. By eck, I thought, what a lass, and that’s when I had a notion.

I’m Henry Blagthorpe, They calls me Lord Blagthorpe, or that bastard Blagthorpe. I own pit and village of Blagthorpe as it happens, I has a reputation you see.

I married a widdow, Elsie Sugden. Her had a kid already, Lucy. I says married, we never wasted brass on church or nothing. Every bit of brass went into business.

Useless bitch she were and all. Seven bloody giirls her popped before her cried enough and went to sleep in spare room, well one of em, I had twelve bedrooms at last count.

I went outside to have a word, “Eee lass thee’s fit.” I says to our Lucy.

“What’s this chatting up thee daughter, he’ll be in thee knickers next,” Cocker Drayton joked.

“Button it Cocker,” I says, “I means she’s strong as any bloke,” I says.

“Well don’t go geting any ideas,” Lucy snapped, “I told thee I’ll not cook and clean for thee, nor go down pit, I’d rather go down whore house.”

“Look here, thee’d frighten blokes stupid, now if thee’s got any sense thee’s sell the honour to highest bidder.” I suggested.

“And how much would you offer?” she asked.

“Five bob,” I laughed.

“Done, I’ll tell our mam.” she grinned and went back to shovelling. She must have been hot as she had her shirt undone and thee could see her whatsits swinging as she shovelled.

I got home after dark. Table was set. Tea was cold as always. Elsie was bloody miserable as always.

“For half a bloody crown I’d send the lot of thee to workhouse,” I joked to lighten mood.

“For half a crown I’d bloody go,” Elsie said moodily.

“Mam our Dad offered five bob for me honour,” Lucy blurted out as she washed the coal dust off her while stripped to the waist by kitchen sink.

“Some bloody hopes it must be long gone,” Elsie snapped.

“No, no bugger’s had me our mam, ent no one as I fancy,” Lucy said, “Except Daddy.”

“Now hang on I were jesting,” I said, “Thee’s me daughter.”

“So why am I working in pit not at some poncy finishing school or some such?” Lucy asked.

“I don’t want thee cavorting with nobs, I wants thee,” I said, “I wants thee close at hand so I can look after thee.”

“So no other bugger has me,” she challenged, “You want’s me for thee own, for thee whore!”

She stood there, whatsits hanging out, the teats all stood up, face and hair all black, and it hit me.