Whilst writing this post I’ve realised I’m semi-quoting Bill Bryson in Notes From A Big Country, but I have at least returned to the beginning of the post to say that I internalised, rather than just plain plaigerised his text. I don’t have a copy of the book with me, so I’m paraphrasing from memory (honest), but if I remember correctly, he notes upon returning to the US after a life in Britain that although he is demonstrably American (he knows how to spell Cinsynatti correctly and most Britons don’t), all the “adult” experiences of his life have occurred in the UK.
Equally, the vast majority of my adult experiences have taken place in Germany – I have never been arrested for gross public indecency in the UK for example. Similarly, I’ve never been sued or sued anyone here (although a certain internet (non-) provider may prove a first); I’ve never completed a tax return here, nor received a speeding ticket. I’ve never bought or been given a house (parents, are you reading this, eh? Eh?), nor given one away. That said, none of my parents’ neighbours have been imprisoned for cannibalism. Swings and roundabouts, as people appear to say, irritatingly, and for no good reason.
Although political life seems superficially much the same as when I left – an incompetent government lurches from one scandal to the next, whilst the opposition have just appointed a young, slimy, expensively-schooled fuckwit as their leader, society seems quite, quite different and I don’t understand it. Literally. Not only have I missed out on learning vocabulary through the experiences of a normal twenty something in Britain, but whole swathes of unfamiliar acronyms and NewSpeak, “positive enablement opportunities for the educationally disadvantaged” is my favourite example so far, have appeared. Add on to this the fact that many words which I haven’t used for 10 years are no longer part of my active vocabulary and I regularly find myself in situations where I am unable to make myself understood. Because it can be embarrassing to find oneself standing at the information desk in B&Q saying: “Look, it’s called spackle in American, Spachtel in German, and Bill Bryson writes about it in his book because he only knows it by its British name. Oh, and I also want one of those rubber ring thingies that you put in a tap to stop it dripping,” only to be met by a blank stare, I’ve taken to saying that I’m German, have just arrived in Britain and apologising for my poor English. Of course, this doesn’t actually help to get want I want, but at least people reply by saying “What?” “I’m sorry, I don’t understand you dear,” or, “Well why don’t you fuck off back then?” in a very loud and clear manner.
German Word For Today: “Heimweh” - Homesickness
Song playing as this was published: Yeah Yeah Yeahs “Maps”
Thanks for the “warning”. I’ve always wondered what it would be like like if I went back. I always figured about a month to get back up to speed.
Gross public indecency? My my. Was that your “draufwichsen” moment?
I thought you were arrested for gross public indecency in italy.
Oh dear! Poor In-Act, you’ll have to work hard on your vocabulary, from now on! The telly could help you a lot, I guess
I get what you mean. Whenever we go back I find I’ve pretty much missed out on the 30-something vocabulary. Took me ages to figure out what a SUV was.
Karl: Well, consider yourself warned - it’s definetly not like returning for a vacation.
INAOP: Well it wasn’t technically getting arrested either as the Neapolitan police accepted exactly the amount of cash that was in my wallet as a contribution instead.
liseuse: But I had UK television in Germany eventually and, although it must have helped a little, it obviously wasn’t that much. I receive one German channel here (DW TV) and although I have made a rule to watch the propaganda show, or Nachrichten aus Politik, Sport und Wirtschaft as they call it, I imagine my German vocab is slipping away too….
Christina: I suppose another problem is that I came into contact with American English much more than British English and for five years the only English language TV I saw was Jay Leno, hence, I might know what an SUV is but have developed a particularly lame sense of humor. And, although I’m trying not to refer to my handy as my handy, I’m just as likely to call it my “cell” as my “mobile” and go to the drugstore to buy Q-tips as opposed to the chemist for cotton buds. Anyone who believes that Britain is being swamped by American TV and culture should just pop into Boots in Dullsville, Northern England and ask for some Q-Tips. They might not have “cutetips”, but they will offer you a w ide range of other finger nail extension products…..
Polyfilla!
surely it’s a washer, isn’t it?
Helpful hints to speaking modern english: lower IQ by 100, insert “like” after every other word, round off sentence with “innit”.
actualfactual: No, I did not. Purely from memory. (Ok, I did a google search for the correct spelling.)
Polyfilla…..I wondered what it was called, as I only ever call it Spachtel. Going back is weird. My fist stint out of the UK was 5 years. I returned and after a year all I wanted to do was leave again. I stll felt English but somehow didn’t feel like I quite fitted in properly anymore. But then again I’m from Devon
I was brought up calling them Q-tips. How funny!
Practically the only English people I like are other expats. The ones left behind - especially in horrible places like Grotley - are just nasty when faced with one of their own who’s escaped.
Haddock: Going back is truly, truly weird. Bizarrely, I can cope with London (never thought I’d say that), but maybe that’s because it’s not really England….
David: Ah, but Grotley is a town that welcomes foreign culture and Q-Tips, we never reached that stage of enlightenment regarding cutton on sticks to push far too far down one’s ear canal here - or at least the girl in Boots didn’t.