One of the more outstanding reasons for preserving remnants of our local dialect, and glorying in them, is to help ensure some much-needed variety in our hails and farewells.

The perfunctory “g’morning” and dismissive “g’bye,” grudging bookends of today compare so miserably with the sparkling banter we shared freely not so long ago – and it can’t all be put down to the rise of phoney technology.

I can hear the expected chorus: “There he goes again dispensing romantic twaddle about Norfolk past!” 

But if you have been about a few decades just listen now to some of the uplifting voices crowding in with little reminders. For me, they’re a lasting legacy of a country upbringing at a time when communication was much more of a straightforward business.

Yes, you really did know everyone on your local beat and most in the immediate area. It was automatic to make some kind of verbal contact when you met. Very least on offer was the seal of the day, a casual nod and mimed greeting as you passed. Usually held back for newcomers yet to make a mark on the community or the pub darts colleague who had let you down on double 15 the night before.

Complete strangers invariably collected a forceful: “Hent sin yew round these parts afore, ole partner!” just to make them feel reasonably welcome or to put them on their guard if intentions might not be entirely respectable. The hand of friendship with one admonishing finger at the ready – like so many Norfolk expressions.

So, let me line up a few good old Norfolk greetings worthy of much more than a nostalgic sigh as we battle across the plains of indifference to the mountain range of anti-social antics inspired by incessant burbling of the mobile phone.

Majority of these time-honoured hellos demand something better than a half-hearted grunt in reply: “Howyer gittin’ on?,” “Wodyer say, then?,” “Howyer blowin’?,” “Nyce ter see yer, my bewty,” “Cor blarst, is that yew lookin’ ser bloomin well?,” “Dunt tell me – yew’re lorst a tanner an’ fownd a thrippeny bit!,” “I kin see a lyte on .. but is ennyone at hoom?,” “Fancy bumpin’ inter yew arter best part’of sum tyme,” “I thowt yew’d emigrearted,” “They towld me yew wuz dead!.”

Good-natured inquiries asking for a chat flourished before our lives became digital and dynamic, before getting from A to B simply became a matter of speed rather than a chance to enjoy a mardle. Of course, far more people strolled or biked when I was a lad in the country, and the general pace encouraged amiable encounters all along the way.

A stroll round the village after chapel on a Sunday evening was perfect preparation for rigours of a new week. It brought reassurance with regular sights and sounds. If those good-natured inquiries often built a springboard for spontaneous rustic drollery the looks that went with them were worthy of any top-of-the-bill comic mixing pathos with punchy one liners.

I saw and studied those faces inspire music-hall items in the harvest field when we stopped for refreshments and in the barn when rain needled down. Laughter didn’t always come easy to a lad on the sidelines but that was the beauty of such diversions, instant examinations in the open-air classroom on the farm

The richness and variety of swift responses to Norfolk-sized greetings never ceases to amaze or amuse although give-and-take sessions are less fashionable these days. Listen very carefully and you may still hear “Betterannerhebbin” and “ Wassanwotter wuz” with old favourite ”Fair ter middlin” sandwiched somewhere between.

“Nut tew bad,” “Tell yer the trewth, I dunt fare no matters terday,” “Still on the grownd jammin’ abowt,” “Carnt complain, and that wunt dew new good ennyhow” “My skull feel thow that belong ter sumwun else,” and they’re bloomin’ welcome tew it” ”I ent much longer fer this wald .. so buy me a pint!.”

Okay, these may not fall into the Shakespeare class of “Ill met by moonlight, proud Titania” and “Parting is such sweet sorrow” have obvious qualities. But when did the old Bard come anywhere near The Boy John ,alias Norfolk comedian and scribe Sidney Grapes, when he wrote those immortal words: “Fare yer well, tergether”?

I prefer that to “Have a nice day,” BFN – Bye for Now” or even “Stand not upon the order of your going but go at once” I suspect Lady Macbeth was trying to say: “ Now clear yew orff … and mynd how yer go, tergether.”

*A couple of delightful echoes from Norfolk past lit up a soggy November morning as I exchanged greetings with old acquaintances ready for a drop or two of home-made squit.

The first, a fellow coastal “refugee” from heart of the county, turned the tables with a riposte stolen from one of our many previous mardles as I asked where he was going. “I ent goin ’nowhere,, ole bewty” he replied, . I’m jist a cummin’ back!”

The other long-serving chum didn’t seem to mind being set up for a topical chuckle as I offered my Autumn Statement. He feigned genuine interest when I announced there would be no cap on daylight hours: “But that will git late earlier.”