Language the other side of the pond.
- Thread starter Laurentius
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Rodney was the 4th Pharaoh of the tenth dynasty in the Upper kingdom. He was a real bright spark and rock hard bits of his mummified body are still used to light traditional fires .... or not...
A Scotswoman, a Welshwoman, two Englishmen and two Welshmen.....in one conversation discussing an American accent ?????
The series AS TIME GIES BY had a local character on the father’s country estate. His unintelligible speech pattern captured the many local dialects in the UK.
English , for now, is the universal language. Try helping a Indian -American friend explaining to a Lorrie driver from South Carolina speaking grulla ( a coastal black dialect noted for extremely rapid speech) his vegetarian restaurant and store didn’t order 1000 honey baked hams.
English , for now, is the universal language. Try helping a Indian -American friend explaining to a Lorrie driver from South Carolina speaking grulla ( a coastal black dialect noted for extremely rapid speech) his vegetarian restaurant and store didn’t order 1000 honey baked hams.
Not bushcraft, but have a look for videos by US radio amateurs describing the best way to solder.
Something to remember when being amused or bemused by American pronounciation is that in quite a few cases, they have retained a pronounciation from an earlier form of English. Sometimes something more in line with what was brought over by the Normans. It isn't all a result of Webster and his letter pruning.
Other times....well, it is just the accents. My English mum nearly had a falling out with my US gran one lunch for failing to understand what "sty yeps" meant. We had only got there a day or two before and mum hadn't had a chance to tune her ear to the Midwestern drawl.
Other times....well, it is just the accents. My English mum nearly had a falling out with my US gran one lunch for failing to understand what "sty yeps" meant. We had only got there a day or two before and mum hadn't had a chance to tune her ear to the Midwestern drawl.
Very true, that.
There are some parts of America (somewhere in the New England area I seem to recall) who speak a dialect and pronunciation not too far removed from Shakespeare.
Words we normally think of as Americanisms (e.g. 'moron', 'Fall' (for Autumn), 'trash' (for rubbish - this one was used by Shakespeare), and 'gotten', plus many others) are perfectly good pieces of British English, but they just fell out of use.
I think Bill Bryson put it best, when challenged that Americans abuse the Queen's English - she's not my Queen!
And quite right too.
In both of the above two posts, we see the glories of the language! No-one holds sway and the range and variations used across the globe make English so exciting. To homogenise it would be to limit its expressive value and power. "Vive la difference!" as we tend to say in Gloucestershire...
Conversation in an American bar:
Say, Bud, you're not from round here are you?
No, I'm English.
What country are you from?
Well, England.
Where 's that?
Europe.
Gee, you sure talk good English for a European!
I suppose we English should be grateful that our language is the world's lingua franca
Say, Bud, you're not from round here are you?
No, I'm English.
What country are you from?
Well, England.
Where 's that?
Europe.
Gee, you sure talk good English for a European!
I suppose we English should be grateful that our language is the world's lingua franca
One of my survival jobs hired a recent immigrant from Cobb Ireland. Her accent on the intercom
Sounded like Flann O’Brian’s hilarious story of a linguist recording pure Gaelic. I wound up ‘translating’ until she smoothed the rough edges.
We’re sitting at high tea AKA lunch
And a smitten customer asked where she was from?
Ireland’ gee, you speak pretty good English!’
Deirdre rolled her eyes. I called him an idiot in Gaelic. She giggled along with an amazed look I could speak it.
Guy asks me what language was that?
Navajo. ‘ You don’t look Indian.’
Sounded like Flann O’Brian’s hilarious story of a linguist recording pure Gaelic. I wound up ‘translating’ until she smoothed the rough edges.
We’re sitting at high tea AKA lunch
And a smitten customer asked where she was from?
Ireland’ gee, you speak pretty good English!’
Deirdre rolled her eyes. I called him an idiot in Gaelic. She giggled along with an amazed look I could speak it.
Guy asks me what language was that?
Navajo. ‘ You don’t look Indian.’
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