It's Your Round! A Survival Guide for the American Anglophile

It’s Your Round!

A Survival Guide

For the American Anglophile

Written and illustrated by JC Mitchell

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2015 JC Mitchell

https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/jcmitchell

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Cover Model: Olivia Cantrell

TABLE OF CONTENTS

1. Introduction

2. An Introduction to British English

3. Everyday Conversation

4. In The Home

5. Cooking and Dining

6. Getting Dressed

7. In The Neighbourhood

8. The Pub

9. Driving and Cars

10. Public Transportation

11. Sport

12. Other Amusements

13. Banking and Shopping

14. School

15. Work

16. So You Want to Try a Pub Quiz?

About the Author

Other Ebooks by JC Mitchell

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Introduction

In this 21st Century world of global travellers—American holiday seekers, jetsetters, expats, and expat wannabes—there are plenty of helpful guides on the bookshelves with names like Speak Swahili In 15 Easy Lessons, How To Live And Work In Antarctica, Doing Business in Nunavut, Buying Retirement Property in North Korea, and the like. This guide does not even pretend to be one of those. What it does pretend to be, and hopefully will actually succeed in being, is a social guide for American Anglophiles who want to spend some time in Britain understanding the natives while not provoking gales of laughter and abuse in the process.

A common assumption for English-speaking people moving to, or even just visiting, a different English-speaking country is that life will be a breeze simply because they (supposedly) speak the language. After all, if an American were to move to Paris, they would expect to have difficulty communicating with the Parisians simply because an American must learn how to speak French to communicate properly with Parisians. And if they aren’t fluent French speakers they will be forgiven for any mistake or faux pas simply because, well, hey, they’re Americans! And English is the universal language anyway, right?

All the more reason that living in Britain is actually more challenging for an American. Since Americans speak English, or at least some form of it, they’re assumed to have absolutely no excuse for not understanding and communicating with the British, and not having a clue what they’re expected to do when and where and why—and how, for that matter.

Which brings us to the goal of this book: to give you a basic working knowledge of British language and customs from an American point of view. Let’s start with some basic vocabulary and grammar.

Back to Table of Contents

2. An introduction to British English

British Spellings and Usage

To start with, there are a few basic British words that look and sound like their American equivalents but are slightly different. In the kitchen the British use aluminium (pronounced alu-MI-nium) foil. Somewhere along the way the Americans lost that extra i. And you should try to say aluminium foil, because if you ask for just foil you might be offered a fencing weapon, if one just happens to be stashed behind the fridge. Another i we seem to have misplaced at some point is in the word specialty, because the British still say speciality (pronounced spe-shi-A-li-ty). If these extra syllables make you feel disoriented, just remember in England you will be disorientated -- or orientated, if you’ve kept your head and still know where you are.

If you were to scoff and say you learned these words while vacationing in England last fall, you may be surprised to find out you learnt them whilst holidaying in England last autumn. See? It just goes on and on...

There are many different spellings as well. The two most commonly known differences between American and British spelling are in the reversal of the ending -er (as in centre and theatre) and the inclusion of u in the ending -or (as in colour, harbour, and neighbour). There are also extra letters to be found, as in jewellery and travelling; a c where Americans use a z, as in cosy; and more French spellings, as in programme and moustache. (But you still run computer programs.) And there are still a lot of os left over that Americans have dropped, such as in foetus, and oestrogen, as well as the a in encyclopaedia, haemorrhage and haemorrhoid. And there are a few general oddities, such as gaol (jail – pronounced the same) and kerb (curb). A good way to learn British spellings is with your computer’s spell checker, by turning off all American dictionaries and turning on the British ones.

British Pronunciation

The way the British pronounce various words doesn’t seem to follow any one rule. They will pronounce some foreign-originating words closer to the original language than Americans will, while other words they will pronounce with a peculiarly British lack of regard for the originating language. You may say to-may-do but the British will always say to-mah-to; however this is one of those words Americans are excused for mispronouncing, especially if you’re lazy with your Ts. Try walking into a pub or a café and asking for a cheese and to-mah-do sandwich and listen to the gales of sniggers. It can be quite embarrassing, believe me.

Other British pronunciations to be aware of include oregano (o-re-GAH-no), garage (GEH-rij), fillet (FI-let), leisure (LEH-zhur) military (MIH-li-try), and herb (like the name Herb). Words with the ending -ile rhyme with aisle, as in docile (DOH-sile, as opposed to DAW-sul), fragile, and mobile. The Renaut car is pronounced REH-no, a geyser is pronounced GEE-zer, and basil is pronounced like Basil Rathbone, only without the Rathbone. If you’re an American visiting the UK as a tourist, you will be excused for using the American pronunciation for the above words – although if you’d like to impress your UK friends as a savvy, world-knowledgeable American, try to pronounce oregano and aluminium the British way. Here’s a suggestion for slipping the two into the conversation, especially if you’re in a restaurant: "Hmm, I might order the sea bass. You know how I prepare sea bass? Just plop on a dab of butter and some fresh oregano, wrap it in some aluminium foil, and pop it in the oven…" Bonus point: …at Gas Mark 5.

It’s easy to start an argument with a Brit about the pronunciation of pasta and taco. To American ears it sounds like they’re pronouncing them with a short a, as in cat. They will claim to be more accurate to the original Italian and Spanish, however, accusing us of saying PAW-sta and TAW-co. If you enjoy entering into spirited arguments over foreign cuisine terms, then be my guest; personally I’d just as soon let them think what they want and eat my meal in peace.

Personal names can often be a bone of contention as far as pronunciation is concerned. My view is this: however you want to pronounce your own name is how it shall be pronounced. So if you want to be friends with the Brits you should learn to pronounce their names the way they pronounce them, be it a Christian (first) name or a surname (last name). So if you meet some prospective friends named Leslie Sinclair, Maurice Barnard, Ralph McLaughlin, and Nicola Barnett, remember to call them LEZZ-lee SINK-ler, MOR-ris BAR-nerd, RAFE mc-LOKH-lin, and NIH-cola BAR-net. And in case you ever meet him and want to get on his good side, Ray Davies of the Kinks is actually pronounced Ray Davis.

On my first visit to the UK I had a long chat in a Glasgow pub with a man from the Scottish Highlands. I was convinced for nearly an hour that his name was G’m. It was only when he showed me his new passport photo that I realised it was Graham, which made a lot more sense. Naturally one can’t be expected to call every Highlander named Graham G’m, so just go with your natural instincts.

On the subject of pronunciation there is that wild and wacky world of British place names. You have your names where the E’s are pronounced as A’s, as in Berkshire (BARK-shur), Derbyshire (DAR-bee-shur), and Hertfordshire (HART-ferd-shur); you have your names where the ‘H is ignored, as in Petham (PET-um), Chatham (CHAT-um), Bosham (BOZZ-um), Rotherham (ROTHER-um), Birmingham (BIR-ming-um), Durham (DUR-um) and Oldham (OLD-um); you have your long E’s, as in Elham (EE-lum) and Eliburn (EE-ly-burn); you have your different ways of pronouncing the same syllable, as in Folkestone (FOLK-stun) and Penistone (PENNIS-tun) versus Maidstone (MAID-stone) and Greatstone (GRATE-stone); you have your differences in pronunciation between the American and English versions of the same place, as in Cumbria (CUMM-bria), Halifax (HALLY-fax), and Cheviot (CHEE-vyet) Hills; you have your quays turned into keys, as in Torquay (TOR-kee) and Newquay (NU-kee); likewise, in Orkney you’ve got South Ronaldsay (RONALD-see) or Westray (WEST-ree); you have your mysteriously disappearing syllables, as in Gloucestershire (GLOSS-te-shur), Leicester (LES-ter), Leicestershire (LESTE-shur), and Magdalen College (MOD-lin); you have your classically British-pronounced Bath (which would never rhyme with path); you have your disappearing W, as in Berwick (BEHR-ick) and Warwick (WAR-ick); and you have various other oddities, such as Lewes (LEW-iss), Epworth (EPP-eth), Boughton (BOO-ton) Aleph, Belvoir (BEE-ver) Castle, Capel-le-Ferne (CAY-pul-le-FERN), Lympne (LIMM), Haworth (HAY-worth), Beauchamp (BEE-chum), Keighley (KEETH-ly), and Hawick (pronounced HOIKKH, as if you’re about to spit up a large amount of phlegm). The city of Reading is pronounced RED-ding and Fowey in Cornwall is pronounced Foy". And then there are various regional anomalies, such as Sheffield’s Lydgate Lane, which the locals call LID-jet Lane.

To completely confuse the issue of the pronunciation of British place names, there are three towns in Northwest England which are all spelled CLAUGHTON. But each of the three is pronounced CLAY-ton, CLAFF-ton, and CLAW-ton.

In Scotland you have lochs (pronounced with a guttural LOKHS) which are basically lakes. In Ireland these are called loughs but pronounced the same. Lough Neigh, the biggest lough in Northern Ireland, is pronounced LOKH NAY. To preserve the sanity of the reader I won’t even start on Welsh place names.

Even the seagulls in Britain pronounce their cries completely differently from those in America. Just remember that, in case you’re thinking of importing your pet gull.

Sometimes the same name is pronounced differently depending on where you are. For instance, a lovely castle town to visit in Sussex is Arundel (pronounced EH-run-dul). But if you live in Sheffield one of the main city centre streets is Arundel Gate (pronounced uh-RUN-dul). But don’t worry too much about these regional variations or it will do your head in.

Grammar

The main difference I’ve come across in British vs American grammar has to do with the idea of plurality, specifically in relation to a single entity consisting of many members, such as a nation or a corporation. In America we might say Microsoft is holding my wife for ransom (which some spouses may well think, considering the long shift hours). In England one would say Microsoft are holding my wife for ransom. Where we say America is winning the World Cup, the British will say England are winning the World Cup. Or so they’d like to say.

Numbers

In various American sports a score of 3-0 will often be called three to zero or three-zero or three to nothing. In Britain they say three-nil. And if the score is 3-3, it’s a draw, not a tie.

A score or value of zero is also referred to as nought (pronounced nowt). This lent the decade of the 2000s a pleasing nickname, the Noughties, which I believe Americans should have adopted. After all, wouldn’t you rather be living in a noughty decade than a nothing decade?

In referring to positions in sequence the Brits tend to be more formal than Americans. For instance, American will call the letter Z the last letter in the alphabet, as might Brits. But Americans will refer to Y as the second-to-last letter, whereas Brits will call it the penultimate letter. And X gets even fancier: whereas American would refer to it slightly awkwardly as third-to-last, Brits would refer to it as antepenultimate. This is a truly wonderful mouthful of a word. When I first heard it while helping a couple of friends solve a cryptic crossword I was truly impressed. But then I suppose I’m easily impressed.

Many Americans would like to triple their income. Brits, on the other hand, would rather treble it. You hear this term a lot in phone numbers. In America if your phone number is 222-3301, you would say two-two-two, three-three-oh-one, or two-twenty-two, thirty-three-oh-one. In Britain, however, the number would be treble two, double three oh one. The first few times you hear a number recited this way can be a bit confusing, but you soon get used to it.

On the subject of telephones, the Brits usually phone or ring other people, or give them a bell, as opposed to calling them -- and the line might be engaged as opposed to busy. So if an English person says they tried to ring you but you were engaged, don’t worry—they weren’t trying to propose marriage. The ever-popular and omnipresent cell phones are called mobiles while regular telephones are called land lines. And you don’t dial an area code, which is three digits—you dial a dialling code, which can be four or five digits and always starts with a 0. (If you’re calling from abroad you drop the first 0, or nought.)

Characters and Punctuation

In Britain if you mention a pound sign you’re obviously talking about a £, so to prevent confusion the # is called a hash mark. A period is a full stop; ‘these inverted commas around this phrase’ are called, appropriately enough, inverted commas; and parentheses are called brackets.

As far as the alphabet goes, it is very useful to remember that z is called zed. This is especially helpful if you’re having your eyes tested and you find yourself faced with that standard eye chart. After all, it’s difficult enough to remember just which eye you’re supposed to be concentrating on and if you’re supposed to say which frame is more in focus and which less, so try not to confuse the examiner by saying, as you squint ever so slightly, Um...I think it’s a zee! If you’re spending a lot of time in London you’ll find it most helpful to buy yourself a London A-Z, a very handy map book which,