I've always considered myself to be not just a native speaker of English, but a good speaker of English, with a good command of grammar and a pretty decent vocabulary. I am
majoring in English, after all. Turns out I was speaking American all this time, not English at all. Since my arrival in the UK, my vocabulary has been violently assaulted, the heads of my words sliced off and catapulted back at me, dripping gore. Here, for example, are some words from the past two or three days only that proved my grasp of my own mother tongue to be feeble and arthritic:
1. catarrh - noun. Pathology. inflammation of a mucous membrane, esp. of the respiratory tract, accompanied by excessive secretions.This one I found out because I'm sick as a dog, and the box of Sudafed I bought claims to be able to clear catarrh. I had no idea what that meant, but it sounded like something that I wanted cleared. Maybe it's that bizarre silent
h there at the end, reminiscent of the silent
g in "phlegm." I do not trust bodily functions or secretions that are so willing to hide things from me. Incidentally, that Sudafed box was lying. My catarrh is still firmly entrenched in my lungs. I got catarrh all
over the damn place.
2. cling film - noun.
A thin plastic film made of saran (trade name Saran Wrap) that sticks to itself; used for wrapping food.I basically had to play charades with the guy at the supermarket to figure out where to find some.
"'Scuse me?" I said. "Where would I find the plastic wrap?"
"The what?" he replied.
"The plastic wrap? You know, like, Saran Wrap?"
"I'm afraid I don't know what that is. What do you want to use it for?"
"To cover up food to keep it fresh in the fridge."
"Ohh. I see. Follow me."
And then he led me down a few aisles (including the "Cat Food" aisle - does no one in England own a dog?) and handed me a box of cling film. I don't know why Brits would want to put something that sounds like a synonym for pond scum over their food, but there it is. There is nothing I can do about it.
3. truss - noun. Medicine. A supportive device, usually a pad with a belt, worn to prevent enlargement of a hernia or the return of a reduced hernia.Apparently T. S. Eliot wore one for his spine. My tutor tried to pantomime it out for me to get it through my foreign skull. I don't think he is ever going to take me seriously again after I said I needed to "bust out a cough drop" and referred to one of the characters in
The Waste Land as "this hyacinth dude." He told me I should start an indie rock band called Hyacinth Dude. I wished I could stuff the words back into my dumb American mouth.
Sigh. I wish I spoke English.