A few days ago I was watching the football. Marcel Desailly made some remark about Switzerland - if they pretend to reach the second round. I was startled and I wondered how many native English speakers actually understood what he was saying. And I'm not sure it was precisely correct, inasmuch that Switzerland are not laying claim to a place as much as working towards it.
I half heard an interview on the radio. Sarah Montague said "So, more Iraqi troops will mean less British troops?" and I instinctively responded 'fewer'. It's one of my language pedant things - if it can be counted it's 'fewer'; if it is measured it's 'less'. And, of course, missing the point entirely - whether British troops should remain in Iraq to try and clear up the horrendous mess. So, should one be concerned at the appalling slip in what was extemporised live radio, or should one accept that where the meaning is clear and unambiguous, the 'rules' don't need to be obeyed.
I missed the interview where Alan Johnson said of John Reid "He's not Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm" but I did catch the one with an American professor of Literature, who suggested it might be more appropriate to describe him as Anne of Green Gables. (Remember that one, it might be used again on this blog...)
It served to extend a thought I had had earlier in the week. I am increasingly irritated by the creeping Americanisation of the English language. I keep hearing films described as 'movies'. I was in a sandwich shop the other day that was advertising 'subs' that has no sandwich-related meaning in English. There are numerous other examples. I suspect it is due to the fact that there are an increasing number of American TV programmes being shown and many people lack the language skills to understand that there are differences. As a child I was just about the only person I knew who could understand and speak American, partly because I was the only person in my class at school who had American relatives, but mainly because I read a lot of American books - although my favourite transatlantic ones were the Anne of Green Gables, which are, of course, Canadian, which is a different language again. In fact, I would go so far as to say that along with many Noel Streatfield and the Arthur Ransome books, no childhood is complete without the Anne of Green Gables series. I also enjoyed Little Women (and Good Wives, Jo's Boys and Little Men) but re-reading Little Women as an adult, it struck me as dull and priggish and sanctimonious.
Separately, I thought - I still haven't got round to reading Adrian Mole and the Weapons of Mass Destruction. Then, I was sitting on the Tube and the chap opposite me had a copy of it on display. I kept giving it looks of desire, idly wondering whether he would notice if I nicked it. Suddenly, I noticed that he was giving me 'looks' and I realised to my horror that he was Asian and probably thought I was looking at his rucksack (Asian men with rucksacks - how quickly we forget last summer...!).
I'm not sure whether there are any rules of etiquette that help one to say "Please understand I don't give a toss that you are an Asian man on the Tube with a rucksack, I was just thinking about nicking your book, even though obviously I'm not going to do so." And then Green Park arrived, so I got off, and he must have thought that I was really avoiding him, especially as I was not sitting in the right part of the train officially for changing at Green Park, but I was in the right part for the Gert Secret Route to Change from Piccadilly to Victoria Line Without Too Much Walking (secret will be revealed for a small payment!).
But I concluded that, as a child, I used to read a great deal of literature, but as my adulthood has progressed, that has steadily diminished. I was browsing round WH Smith the other day, thinking, if I had two weeks lying on a beach I could get through many Chick Lit books. I then thought, what's the point, what will another dozen chicklit books add to my life, on top of the dozens I have already consumed. I have found it more difficult to concentrate on books in the past couple of years. People imagine that if they have a year off sick over two years, and work part-time, that they would spend that time reading. Sadly, it doesn't work like that.
