The title of this posting says it all. Madonna is not even called Madge in the states. That’s a nickname the tabloids of her adopted country have given her. It’s inevitable that after three years in the UK that British-isms now pepper my speech, but surely that doesn’t mean I sound like phony-Brit Madge?
Reading back through these blogs, there is rich evidence of my linguistic confusion. My mother in law is “in the hospital” (American) not “in hospital” (Madge). Yet a neighborhood is “posh”, not “ritzy.” But I left a message on the “answering machine” not the “answer phone.” Still, I managed to “let the side down.” I can hardly wait to work in “jolly hockey sticks” and “nip to the loo.”
Recently I sought the advice of M., local barman, former Fleet Street journalist, sometime butler and my favourite (favorite?) Cotswold Renaissance man on whether I was in danger of becoming a Madge.
“Rubbish,” he said and proceeded to assure me I was far from pulling a Ms. Ritchie.
His counsel was that reverting back to deliberate American speak would be ill-advised in the country. Walk into a rural pub demanding a beer and the wall goes up even further between local and outsider. Being a weekender is enough of a label without the Yank-thing to contend with.
So goodnight for now. I’m absolutely shattered and need a holiday.