Mixed up language

When I moved to Europe in 1990 I was immediately thrown into a language soup. No, not just the French and German but the many variants of English began to flavour my vocabulary. My first experience was working for a company where there were Brits and South Africans as well as French, Swiss, Germans and a motley mixture of other nationalities for whom English-English was a second language and American-English a third or vice versa.

My first lesson was when I made the afternoon tea at work for the group and announced, “I’ve put the tea on to steep and it’ll be ready shortly.”

“Steep is what a hill is,” one woman said as she picked up the phone to call a client.

“You draw tea,” the boss said to which I replied, “Give me a paper and pencil and I’ll draw it.”

We finally agreed the tea could brew and we’d all enjoy it with the “biscuits” (Americans read cookies) that were next to the teapot. If I remember they were chocolate and didn’t last long enough to be named. The words good, bon, gut worked to describe them although no one chewed with their mouths full.

Here’s a list of some of the British words I love and have snuck their way into my regular vocabulary.

Posh—elegant, fashionable, typical of or intended for the upper classes, highfaluting and not always meant as a compliment. Someone might say, “My aren’t we posh today,” as in "aren’t you stepping above yourself?” Personally, I don’t mind being a bit posh. My mother would be proud.

Knackered—tired, exhausted. Somehow being knackered sounds just more done in than merely saying I’m tired. Maybe bushed is closer for an American, but that word has too many presidential connotations for me.

Knickers—were always what I pictured as loose-fitting short pants gathered at the knee worn by little boys in the beginning of the 20^th century as they rolled hoops and looked forward to their first pair of long pants. My Brit friends think knickers are underpants. We won’t go into American terms such as pants, undies, panties or even unmentionables for those posh people. I don’t care what you call mine as long as they are pretty, coloured and match my bra.

Gobsmacked—my 2nd favourite: I suppose a literal translation is to be slapped in the gob (mouth), but used to describe great surprise. I’ve been told it isn’t a posh word. Probably the pretentious Hyacthin Bouquet on Keeping up Appearances would never let the word fall from her lips but her lower class sister Daisy would.

Peckish—my favourite: hungry but it can mean crotchety. People who know me well that when I get hungry I get more than crotchety. One friend said when I was hungry she wanted to lock me in a cage and throw meat at me and not let me out until I’d eaten and returned to my normal cheerful self.

I neither hoover or vac, not that I have a dirty house, but my nest has tile floors, so I sweep and mop. Tea will always be either a hot beverage made with bags or leaves throughout the day or an afternoon break preferably with nice cookies/biscuits, a pastry, or dainty sandwiches, not my evening meal. Since I don’t own a car, whatever I ride in has a windscreen/windshield, trunk/boot depending on the nationality of the owner.

And this isn't even getting into the franglais that marks my everyday conversations. I'm a feeling a bit peckish and I think I'll take a look-see into the frigo for what I can make for déjeuner. I'd be gobsmacked to find a bit paté to go with my pain. And if I'm knackered this afternoon, mon lit calls me for a brief siesta. Ce soir nous allons manger to a posh restaurant where the prix is high.