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.
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.