Supermum's verbal affairs; is it a school bag or port?

MY WHOLE life has been learning differences in the English language.

Or the Aussie language, I should say.

Travelling from state to state as a child, I learned there were different words for things, depending on where you lived.

When I first moved to Queensland I recall talking to a new friend about the return to school, and she mentioned she had a new school port.

I was worried. I didn't have a new school port. I didn't have a port at all. In fact, I had no idea what a port was. Weren't they something to do with boats?

I was relieved to discover it was only a school bag.

A young Supermum pictured with her little supersister and their school bags ready for school.... Or is it their school ports?
A young Supermum pictured with her little supersister and their school bags ready for school.... Or is it their school ports? Contributed

 

When it came to ordering one of my favourite items from a fish and chip shop, I also encountered problems.

There were no potato cakes on the menu.

Instead I found Queenslanders call them a potato scallop.

I faced other issues in school with different pronunciations.

Sand castle. My Queensland classmates said cass-le and teased me for my "posh" sounding car-stle?

Since meeting my South African-born Superman, things have changed even more.

A simple writing implement was confusing enough being called Textas, Nikko pens, felt tips or permanent markers. Now I can add the South African word koki to the list.

When he says he'll grab his swimming costume, I immediately picture some Superman trunks, maybe with a little cape at the back. But they are not a costume at all. They are togs to me. Swimmers to others (although they are not the ones doing the swimming) or bathers.

My brush and shovel he calls a dustpan and broom.

What I call chips, such as the salt and vinegar variety, he calls crisps.

Although he has learnt to say running shoes, what I called sneakers until I moved to Queensland and then became runners, he used to call takkies.

What I call thongs he calls flip flops.

A face washer others call flannel he calls a face cloth.

Luckily for us there was one language where we have had no communication issues at all.

The language of love.



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