A birdseye view of the Norwegian Sea.(Story)(Short Story)

There was the sun hardly up behind the roofline (long cloud the colour of cutlery) and here was his crackle-of-a-dad tell'n him 'n Bri how to slip yr, legrope on the near hindleg of the beast, wash its teats with a soapy rag, pick'n off the ticks, Look! here 'n here, from the little bloodblisters of the udder, then gett'n the milk started by stripp'n them teats firm but regular, so, with yr bucket clenched between yr knees, keep'n y'eyes clear of the beast's tail when she wants t' ava flickatja, the huge brown side of her warm in the dawn chill.

This was where memory began for Robert Ravenglass, though Bri was in it already, there being but fifteen months between ...