It’s far from easy being a northerner in spaces and places where the default identity is southern. Still, we survive.
In ways many and varied. When I moved to London after university, I found myself further eradicating traces of the broad vowels my family and friends at home all had. I felt a need to blend in, to not stand out. A lot of this was subconscious, driven probably by various mean comments I had encountered during my lifetime, whether directed at me or not. Sometimes, the slights were indirect: hearing people put on a northern accent, for example, to do an impression of someone stupid or unsophisticated. Other times they were very direct, like all the comments about how “racist northerners” caused Brexit.
If we allow you the opportunity to escape from that void, that nothingness, to the civilisation that exists south of the A4 then of course you should adapt to your new environment. That’s the whole point, you are being exposed to civilisation, a life of value and worth, for the first time. Why else would you make the weary trudge from howling wasteland to the England that is and was?
Just to remind about London, the A4 is the Marylebone Road. You’re not actually achieving the aim and goal unless you’re south of that. Yes, this does mean Islington is still The North – which explains those who live there.
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“If we allow you the opportunity to escape from that void, that nothingness, to the civilisation that exists south of the A4”
Applying some extreme pedantry, Royal Crescent and The Circus are in the nothingness of the North and Twerton is civilised? 😉
Indeed so, North of George St is the howling void.
My place is in Alfred St, 200 feet north. I know these things, d’ye see?
I rarely get that far north, although I have been to the Circus and a few concerts at the Assembly Rooms.
The Assembly Rooms is that very street, Alfred St (tho the entrance is just around the corner). Unless you mean the pub, the Assembly Rooms, which is in Alfred St.
Double-plus pedantry: the A4 in West London is not the Marylebone Road but Kensington High St, even further south.
It’s not unreasonable to suggest that Shepherds Bush is part of a howling void.
Do they have a bag they delve into blindfolded for these topics? Whatever, I don’t think anti northernism is going to cut through like the racism lie has.
May I sing the song of the rural Scot at the puir wee Northern souls?
“Get off your fucking knees!”
They’ll never get over it, will they?
Probably on a par with the disadvantage of speaking the Kings English North of Watford.
A pound for every time I’ve been called (albeit overwhelmingly in a friendly manner) an English or Cockney Cnut by Geordies and Aberdonians would have made my retirement significantly more comfortable.
I remember the first time I went up to Hexham races, thirty-five years ago. My friend Eddie had been there before, and when he bet with local bookie Bryan Hazell, his bets were called “down to Cockney coont”. Amusing on account of Eddie being the old-Etonian son of an Earl.
In Japan, speaking with engineers for whom English was very much a 2nd language, I learned in a direct and practical way that language exists on a spectrum between expression of identity and group membership, and communication.
My job was to communicate with these people: i.e. to have them understand me. To do that I had to drop idioms, sort out my vowels, pronounce all consonants, and use grammatical sentences. The result was that I abandoned my amusing, self-indulgent Northern accent and spoke RP, because RP is the most communicative form of English.
There’s a reason why the BBC used it, and why a form of RP pronunciation is the norm for R/T communication. It’s the easiest to discern in a noisy environment. Speaking grammatically reduces comprehension errors. This reduces cognitive load, freeing cognition for comprehension.
If I’m out on the piss with Northern mates I indulge myself and have fun. If I need to sort out a bureaucrat I’m Enoch Powell.
So this cunt should stop whining and sort himself out. When in Rome, etc. And be grateful he’s not still in Hartlepool, or Bishop Auckland, or some Lancashire muslim shithole. (He’s in the London muslim shithole instead.)
RP works, yes. From my experience of living in foreign these past 30 years RP spoken clearly and slowly gets the best results. Even with Americans. Hmm. Especially with Americans. With other foreigners there’s at least a chance they’ve learnt a collquial version of English.
There’s also a story – high veracity but not certain – that BT put International Directory Enquiries (ie, those phoning in from abroad for UK numbers) in Inverness or summat because that highland and careful enunciation works best for foreigners.
Highlanders pronounce their consonants. No glottal stops. And have rhotic Rs like Yanks. They also know the difference between R and W. No wonder they’re intelligible.
My two tours in NATO (including Naples where I lived in Pozzouli, as we’ve discussed before) taught me to speak English clearly and deliberately without sounding condescending. This was, as you say, useful when I did my tour in the States; given the high percentage of hispanics in Texas.
Meh…. When peeps make fun of my dutch accent in my english I always politely inquire how many languages they’ve managed to master…
“Amazingly”, they generally only *can* speak Local, and end up on the long, long, list of Mobs/NPC’s.
If I feel really nasty I ask the question in perfectly enunciated dutch. Makes ’em think I just cursed them and their kin three generations back.
Or even better.. Politely ask how they imagine their bastardised french is supposed to *have* any “proper” pronunciation…
Or.. Lots to play with there…. 0:)
True, but you have to admit there is not a lot of call for Marsh German outside your patch.
yes… Neither is there for Geordie, or Scouse (*shudder*), or Yorkish, or whatever the Locals think is “english”…
Mind… as long as it’s not “London Stuck-up Git” you can get away with pretty much anything.
lol “ Marsh German” I will be using that. (if I may)
Happy memories from a holiday in France in the 1980s, when I met a lovely Dutch girl a couple of years younger than me (I was 17, she was 14 or so). She was far too sensible to get at all intimate, but she was easy on the eye, excellent company, and looked amazing in a bikini (and seemed to like being admired)
But to get to Grikath’s point, she spoke Dutch (of course). And better English than I did. And fully working French (compared to my stumbling 3rd-year schoolboy effort). And German. Apparently Spanish was next…
“their bastardised french”
Come, come. It’s creolised French.
Aren’t like half of the French already bastards;)
So German with a really bad accent. :-p
Somewhat more seriously, German is my second language, since my grandparents came from Bavaria. I also took a couple of years of French in high school. To keep up with my German I listen to various podcasts from different places, which includes once or twice a week listening to a broadcast from the German-speaking minority in Belgium. Because the broadcast is aimed at Belgians, any time there’s a report involving things like discussions in the federal Parliament, they’ll just use the original soundbites in French or Dutch with the expectation that the listeners can understand these. Every time one of the Dutch speakers comes on, my first thought is, “I should be able to understand more of this….”
Like Norman, I adopted RP very early. If you’re going to make a living out of communicating, peeps need to be able to understand you. I also did some drama classes to learn how to project. Put stresses in sentences & generally talk in a way people want to listen. I get complimented by forriners on speaking English they can understand.
As for Northerners, never had much to do with them until I came to live down here. We do seem to be a holiday destination attracts them in large numbers. Can’t say I’m impressed. To me they’re virtually unintelligible. They need sub-titles fitted. And what I can only describe as uncouth. The constant swearing. There were about half a dozen men in their ’60s at a “proper fish ‘n chip” place on the seafront last summer.. Personally, I think it’s a dreadful fate for an innocent piece of cod but my brasiliera likes it. I felt sorry for the two English girl waitresses. It was every other word. And the personal remarks they got. They just seem uncivilised to me. And remarkably stupid. I wouldn’t dream of doing some of the things they do. Any tourist destination is a hostile environment. Tourists draw the people prey on them. True of anywhere. So you take precautions..
You “northerners” get it easy! Just try being taken seriously with a “Brummy” accent!! OK, to the educated there are dozens of midlands/Birmingham/Wolverhampton/Walsall/Black Country accents, but to the undiscerning ear they’re Brummy. Hasn’t anyone noticed the accent used when TV adverts wish to describe someone as near-terminally thick? It certainly isn’t Scouse. 🙂 Personally, being a “Black Country” lad I’ve had to learn to talk proper – except I have a tendency to use the “hard A” (Bath rather than Barth) and the gutteral “U” (I’d call Kier Starmer a cunt rather than a cant). Still, keeps life interesting I suppose.
Me too. From West Bromwich, been down south for decades now, but it’s still hard A for bath and grass etc. The town of Bath is pronounced barth though.
When I started working abroad I hadn’t realised I was adopting a simpler language and softening my broad Yorkshire accent until my wife heard me on the phone and pointed it out.
RP. Bloody hell!! I call it the Queens’ English. But of course I speak old-fashioned Queensland dialect.
So doubtless the reason I find it harder to understand some people these days is because good old Aussie-speak is now being corrupted by the introduction of the ghastly lingo of foreigners. It couldn’t be because I’m getting a bit old and deaf, could it??
Amazed this got past the Guardian’s normal filters. Everything she says can be applied to non-Brits arriving here.
I just don’t get that article; it works both ways round. my Bristolian family are all shocked to find their car tyres gone whenever I’ve visited them from Merseyside. “Get with the programme” I say.
You’ve certainly adapted to Scouseland. Stealing your family’s car tyres when you visit.
To be fair, cars have tires….
You are correct, but while we’re on the subject remember that ‘center’ is a verb – to put into the centre. Centre means the middle of something and has a slightly different pronunciation than the verb.
I moved to London when I was 22 from South West County Durham. I had no problems with “the default identity” … which is what, Cockney, Chelsea, Lewisham, Essex, etc?
I felt no need to change to “fit in”.
Yes, but (having now glanced at the article) the author is a gormless girl. Look at her. Of course she witters about “imposter syndrome”, that the world must change to accommodate her. It’s what they do.
Yup. Having moved down from Lancashire, first to university and then to the City, I didn’t find any serious anti-northerner prejudice. And she looks a fair bit younger than me, so I’d expect even less of it now.
Never have a victim mindset yourself and never indulge it in anyone else.
This. 100%.
I too perceived personality disorder, i.e., all her problems are other people’s fault.