How you like'em, dear? ( This, with a mighty swing of the pan and a toss of the potato cakes, as if they're not hearty things, but delicate, breezy confections. Suppose, maybe for folks above. ) Bit soft, for yer gums?

( Might be grown, him, but there's no reason not to spoil a boy with something soft and precious, melting on the tongue. )

Slip it a bit o'ham? ( That she'll do, a nice thick cut, generously sorted. There, that'll do. And now, she's ready for chatter again, properly armed, turning to look over her shoulder: )

Was one city, til it fell into two. Bit like a master and the missus, eh? Sharing a house, them, and then they've got a row. And them's no speaking after. Living their own lives, talk of the neighbourhood, but what can you do?