WHERAIR ET CAY FRAME

‘Michael, Michael, Michael,’ shouted the woman along Jamaica Street as I walked up from the bottom end of Hillview.
‘Michael, Michael, Michael,’ she shouted as I stepped on to Jamaica and she, followed by two other women and a man who carried a can of drink, started pointing the direction of Stokes Croft.
‘Michael, come here you,’ and she reached him, hugged him.
He waved at the three people behind her who all started saying, ‘Michael, Michael…’ overlapping each other until they reached him too.

alleyway-Dove Street-entrance-lift

‘Yay Bully?’ he said when the lift door opened on its way up, a few floors below mine.
‘Er, no?’ I said.
‘Weal, I may a'weal come up wi' yay thay gi doon'n see i e’s thay're.’
‘Ok,’ I said as he stepped in, joined me.
‘Yay 'ear thar noise frame thee foourth?’ he said.
‘What, just now?’
‘Yeh,’ he said, ‘thay wee shootin' 'n' swearin' 'n' everytheen.’
‘The lift was on three when I came in, so maybe it came from there.’
‘Maybe,' he said. 'It wear lewd, wherair et cay frame.’