“Well old Girl, young Davy’s doing fine.  I’ve just been up there to that new house of his, and all I can say is;  he’s doing real fine.   Its got one of them gas fires what looks like a log – un, and a kitchen we wud’ve had to keep the three piece in, it’s that big.   By lass you would ha loved to hiv bin there to see it.  I can picture ya now, stannin there wi ya sleeves pushed up past the bend in ya arm, that strong flour clingin to ya fingers.  You would ha bin able to make some grand bread in that oven.” 

“Where’d I put me auld pipe…. I knars its in me pockets somewhere.  Ah! there ye are ya beggar.”

Puff… Puff… Puff…. 

“Still the same baccy, aye, wer’nt you the one what says I would never be able to stick to this ready rubbed stuff.  Mind if they still had it in the blocks  you used to get me…  What am I wasting ya time talking tiv you about baccy fer?  How ‘re you keeping Jinny?   Wern’t it just yesterday I wus askin if you’ve got oot to do where ye are, I bet there’s a mighty lot o singing, and the flowers’l bloom where ever you hev a mind to tread …  You know I miss you so much lassie, so much I could jest break down an cry at times….  I’m not alone  so much, but it’s the nights pet.  Awful cold withoot ye…   But never mind  about me.   I’ll always muddle on by.  Mind, I do have to say  I miss your hand on the ironing.  I’m no what you would call proficient at that sort  – o – thing.  Do you recall that day, not so long after our own Davy was born, I burnt a hole in the seat of me best Sunday -going to – Church suit.  Well man!   I was so angry I threw the bloody flat iron oot the back door inte the yard.  Ye was so busy laughing ya fell off ya chair and bust ya arm.  I never met a body what would continue te  laugh wi a busted arm – ceptin yourself of course.  Ee lassie, them doctors didn’t know what to do wi the pair of us.   There we wus , laughing like we’d just had a skin full, and you with a arm broken in twa places.”