Trouser-Pant-Suspender-Braces

If anyone ever tells you that you're full of shit for saying you're living abroad in England, you have my permission to punch them in the nose. Yes - the nose. Because they're lying. And you know who else was a liar (and was associated with noses)? Pinocchio. And you know who is actually full of shit? Them, and most children's stories.

"Sorry, Cricket with a top-hat, I'm just full of shit."

Now that we got that out of the way, let me tell you why their noses may be momentarily bonked. England may technically have the same national language as the Americans (and Canadians, for that matter, eh), but they sure as hell don't sound like it a lot of the time. Granted it may be easier to "assimilate" when moving across the pond to a British nation than, say, to Bangkok or Doha, there still is a language barrier - and that language barrier can get you into more trouble in England than if you simply didn't know the language of the country you were a resident of, because you're assumed to understand what is claimed to be the same mouth-noise as your homeland. But, nay, says I - nay.

I've alluded to some vernacular differences in previous blogs - the difference between "pudding" and "pudding," for example (ya, see, it's not that easy). However, this week I have had the distinct pleasure of welcoming my very first house-guest from the States. That means that not only did I get to figure out how the hell to get to Heathrow from my Oxonian cave, but I also was (1) reintroduced to the many misunderstood phrases and accents from the point of view of a fresh-eared American, and (2) I was constantly giggled at for having apparently acquired some sort of pseudo-accent. "Hello," "sorry," "thank you," and "walk," I'm told, are especially entertaining to hear me say nowadays.

Enter: the Scottish bus driver. Me, to my house-guest: "So what do you want to do when we get to Oxford? Are you hungry? I know a great place for hamburgers - it's quite tasty. Or, we could get you settled in? A shower, perhaps? It's totally up to you. How is everyone back home?" My flurry of questions were happily administered over the fuzzy speaker-gargles of the bus driver's standard safety speech. What my house-guest heard, though, was something completely different than what the Scot intended: "Wait," he stops me - "why are we sitting here if there are donuts in the back?!" His nose was quizzically peeking around the seat behind him; I was inhaling delayed laughter so deep it felt like I was recovering from sit-ups (haha, ya right, sit-ups!).

Immediately, I had an idea - the first thing we were to do when we arrived in Oxford was to buy my friend a journal, a little one, that he could carry around with him throughout his three month exploration, and in which he would jot down anything he "thought" he heard from the Brits around him, and a translation of what they actually said (to be attempted by myself, the pseudo-veteran from a measly four month tenure). I'll ask Dan to share the journal with you all at the end of his trip, but for now I leave you with these three tidbits gathered from his first three days:

Stop seducing me with your suspender-braces, Steve Urkel!

1. Trousers vs. Pants: I personally hate this one, and still can't quite remember to translate the word when I'm speaking to locals. "Trousers" are the English word for what we in America call "pants" - jeans, khakis, dress-slacks, etc. "Pants" in England are, well, knickers or underwear. Therefore, if I said to someone "I'll be right out, I just have to throw on some pants" - they would assume I was walking around my house commando and needed to dignify myself with panties before exiting my abode (a good idea, in general, I think). 
2. Suspenders vs. Braces: Also a risque mistake, if made. Bluntly, "suspenders" in England are what we in the US refer to as "garters" or "garter belts" - lacy bands worn above a woman's "pants" to hold up old-school stockings lacking elastic, often worn by pin-up girls. "Braces," then, is the English word for American "suspenders" - the elastic straps synonymous with Larry King and Steve Urkel, and with gangsters during the 1940s, that hold up men's "trousers." So, again, if a man went into an English shop and when asked what he was looking for replied "suspenders," the (probably 80-year-old) shop-keeper would probably (1) look at him shocked, and (2) assume he was a lost cross-dresser.
3. Spotted Dick (pudding): This is one of my favorites, simply due to the sheer number of five-year-old giggles that emerge when asked quite seriously if you'd like "a bite of my spotted dick." It's a proper English dessert, that resembles a dense cake with raisins submerged in custard. Go ahead - make some spotted dick jokes, god knows I did the first time I saw them lurking in the freezer aisle of the supermarket. I also took a picture. 

Enjoying his first spotted dick on NYE.

There, that's three - keep posted for a riveting description of the sea of red "trousers" I wade through on a daily basis in this hamlet...for a preview of my disdain, go here.

You're welcome.