Huh.
I don’t know why this is from the New York Times, but it’s an interesting dialect map of the UK.
Uncle B sent it to me and said it’s accurate, so I assume it nailed him.
I was surprised when I took it that most of them had answers I would consider correct, but my score was, “you’re not from around here, are you?”
No, I’m not. But I spent half my life in Tennessee and half my life in Rhode Island before coming here, so my dialect is…impure.
Day 1 of Weasel Birthmonth I had the first strawberries of the season.
May 1, 2019 — 8:10 pm
Comments: 12
Sweeps clean
My new broom. You may think it an odd thing to be chuffed about, but this sort of broom is hard to find here. They more commonly use push brooms, like shop brooms.
Uncle B calls this a besom. It isn’t exactly — that’s the ‘bundle of twigs’ broom like the witches ride — but he put out his back once, badly, using one of my brooms from the States, so I’ll allow him to call it whatever he likes.
I found this one at an animal feed store. I had a nice chat with the shop girls about how excellent they were for getting into corners and stuff. Horsey girls. You know the type.
It’s amazing he little differences I bump my nose against on the daily. Still a foreigner after all these years.
April 25, 2019 — 9:33 pm
Comments: 11
Glamour and celebrity
Today, we were next in line to this guy in the supermarket checkout. I have a side bet with Uncle B that you guys will know who he is. You’re just the type.
The picture is a hint. I stole it from the BBC, which is also a hint.
My, he did look weedy, I must say. He was buying a sad little cluster of cans of mushroom soup. One he was returning because he’d accidentally picked one up with chicken in it, so I suspect vegetarian. Don’t do it, kids. Just don’t.
I probably violated half a dozen EU privacy directives just now.
Uncle B nodded hello to him, but I was busy wondering if I could sneakily take a phone picture without getting caught. The answer is no.
April 9, 2019 — 8:49 pm
Comments: 18
*shrug*
Folks, I can’t tell you what’s going on in this country at the moment.
No, really. I can’t. I’m a guest in a place that’s suddenly morphed into a single giant, throbbing raw nerve ending and I’m trying to keep my trap shut and not attract attention to myself.
Nobody likes a mouthy immigrant.
Image pinched from here.
April 8, 2019 — 9:18 pm
Comments: 13
Divided by a common language
I had one of those moments today, trying to pry two stuck stackable chairs apart and I said, “we have to put a little English on it” and all the English people went quiet and stared.
Yeah. I’ve wondered where the phrase came from, too. That seemed like a really good time to look it up.
In case it is hopelessly old-fashioned of me, “to put a little English on it” is most often heard in the context of baseball for putting a spin or curve on the ball. Metaphorically, it is giving something a little twist.
Someone in the room guessed it came from cricket. Which is a very good guess, because the pitcher (erm, bowler) often puts a little spin on the ball so it hops up unpredictably after the first (obligatory) bounce.
I gather. Nobody has ever tried to explain cricket to me, and with any luck no-one ever will.
Anyway. No. It comes from France. And billiards. The expression was to put a little ‘angle’ on it, which is a natural pun for Angles and the Anglais. Ironically, the pun doesn’t work in English.
You’ll have to take my word for it, though. I did all this on my phone, on the hoof, and I’m too lazy to look up the exact liink again.
March 27, 2019 — 9:08 pm
Comments: 15
Battle royal
I have a little stash of American junk food I order online, because I’m pretty sure if my body is ever completely clear of preservatives, they’ll take away my passport.
So this afternoon, I’m like “hey, B — want a plain M&M?”
And he’s like, “what even is one of those?” (He didn’t say it like that. He talks real stupid like “oh, I say, Weasel, whatever might those be at home?” I do my best to translate).
You could’ve knocked me over with a pixie stick. Imagine! So I give him a little pile of M&Ms and he’s like, “oh! Smarties!”
I’ll spare you the argument we had on account of I suck at writing dialogue, but it came down to me yelling “It’s M&M’s because they were first!”
You guessed, didn’t you? They weren’t. Smarties were introduced in 1937 and M&M’s in 1941. We laughed and laughed and then we ate the whole bag because we are pigs.
If you hanker to learn how much of a piece of shit Forrest Mars was, here you go.
March 25, 2019 — 10:08 pm
Comments: 10
Note to self: buy more beer
Well! I’ve just gotten a work email (yes, I get them at home) reminding me that next year is the 400th anniversary of the sailing of the Mayflower. We’re going to party like it’s 1620!
March 20, 2019 — 10:13 pm
Comments: 10
First lambs!
We saw the first lambs of the season on the way to the supermarket today. Well, the first lambs we’ve seen — there’s a farm in the back of beyond that always has the very first lambs, but we have to go out of our way to see them. These were just RIGHT THERE, like nothin’.
Not the ones in the picture up there, though. That picture is stolen from Middle Farm, a local open farm. They sell tickets for lambing. I can’t decide if that’s a very city thing or a very country thing to do. Their lambing starts April 1, like ours.
I bought my second two chickens from Middle Farm, a long time ago. And very excellent chickens they were, too.
But never mind that — LAAAAAMBS!
March 19, 2019 — 8:42 pm
Comments: 6
From the moist bowels of FaceBook
I got spotted dick. Because of course I did.
Liner notes: a crumpet is an english muffin. I’ve heard of Americans making potato chip sandwiches, but not Brits — my guess is that should be a chip butty. Also, it’s only a shepherd’s pie when it’s made with lamb; most people make it with hamburger, which is a cottage pie.
Confession: I like mushy peas.
The images was credited to Getty Images/Buzzfeed, which doesn’t seem likely.
March 13, 2019 — 10:04 pm
Comments: 16
When pushbuttons go wrong
You know what’s really swell? When you’re a stranger in a strange land and you cannot figure out how to flush the toilet.
I never worked out Uncle B’s toilet in London at all. It was a lever action, but you had to kind of lift it and then put a little english on it (appropriately enough). I actually had to call him in once. (Can you picture it? “Hello, man I am courting — I HAVE MADE BOOM BOOM”).
Shown above is our toilet flusher off the master bedroom. It’s easy enough. You push the button.
Well, you push the little button for a ‘half flush’ and the big button for a ‘full flush’ — or the other half of a ‘half flush’ if it hasn’t refilled. Okay, it’s stupidly complicated – and you haven’t seen the insides yet.
It went wrong tonight. It won’t flush. The button, it is dead. We took the lid off and…honest to dog, I’ve had cars that were less complicated.
I never thought I’d be homesick for a float valve. (Yeah, you thought I was going to say “cock and ball mechanism” didn’t you?).
March 12, 2019 — 9:20 pm
Comments: 19