Yes. It is a real thing, and nearly 4 years down the line I still haven’t got a sodding clue what they’re saying a solid 60% of the time.
Here’s a list of words we city folk can relate to:
- Dim Sum
- Krispy Kreme
- Night Tube
- Oyster Card
I’m telling you now, say the word Dim Sum to a farmer and they’ll throw you a look with the blankest expression you have ever witnessed. Start talking to them about night tubes and they think you’re on about some new toy from Anne Summers…
I s**t you not, when Gareth came to London 5 years ago for my birthday (before we got together) and a friend of mine, Fiona asked him if he had an Oyster Card, his reply was “what’s one of them?” *facepalm*
I then found out earlier this year that my husband had never tried a Krispy Kreme until I bought him one in March (!) and even then he said they weren’t better than Greggs doughnuts. WTF?!? My first thought was genuinely, “Oh God. WHAT HAVE I MARRIED?!?”
In contrast, here is a list of words that bumpkins understand, particularly the Wiltshire ilk:
- Hunt Ball
- Cheese Festival
Somewhen?!? THAT’S NOT EVEN A WORD!!!!
I was literally reeling with a mixture of confusion, horror and disgust when Gareth first used this term. It properly threw me, I legitimately did not have a scooby-doo what the man was on about.
Let me put it into context for you…
Gareth: “we’ll go to there somewhen”
Me: “wait, what? That makes no sense we’ll go there somewhere? What does that even mean?”
Gareth: “No, somewhen“
Me: “I’m sorry. What? Some…when??”
Me: “So you mean like, ‘at some point’?”
Gareth: “Yes. How is this so difficult to understand??”
Me: “Because it’s not a word! Why would you say that?? Why wouldn’t you just say ‘at some point?’
Gareth: “Why not?”
Me: “Because ‘at some point’ makes sense!!!! Somewhen most definitely does not make sense, it is a totally made up, non-word!!!!!!”
Turns out, according to Wiltshire bumpkins it is definitely a word, equally so is ‘anywhen’…don’t even get me started on that one. Fuming.
Likewise, according to bumpkins, their idea of a good day out is a cheese festival. Yes, that’s right, a whole festival dedicated to cheese. Not a little artisan market down the side of London Bridge (aka Borough Market to the non-Londoners who haven’t got a clue what I’m talking about) but a full-blown festival in a field, all about cheese.
Don’t get me wrong, I love me some cheese, but a whole day. In a field. Looking at cheese? That’s a bit much. But don’t panic, I soon found out when I was dragged there last year that there are also cow and sheep judging competitions, tractors on display and farm machinery to buy…calm the f**k down people!! Fun day out my arse. These people need to get themselves down to Covent Garden on a Saturday. Pronto.
Honestly, never has my unrelatable life been more apparent than when I’m sat at a hunt or farmer’s ball and have nothing in common with the people either side of me, or in the office when I start suggesting to them that apparently ‘somewhen’ is a word. I’m a nomad in either situation!
So I find myself misunderstood by a significant proportion of people I happen to spend my life with. Which is not a circumstance I ever thought I would find myself in given my extremely articulate and overly verbal life! Hence the point of this blog I guess…?
Don’t worry too much about me at those balls though, I just start talking about night tubes and enjoy the looks of horror stricken confusion on their faces…
Until next time!