Shropshire Star

Mark Andrews: Take pride in the English language

It was the summer of 1989, now that was a proper summer. Not quite as long as the endless summer of 1976, and I’m sure the experts will tell me we have had hotter days this year. But let’s just say that the summer of 1989, for various reasons, will stay in the memory long after summers such as this one will be forgotten.

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Take pride in the English language

Anyhow, as we waited on the platform to return home after a glorious day in Stratford-upon-Avon, the dreaded ‘British Rail regrets’ announcement came over the public address system. Our train home had been cancelled, so all the passengers were herded onto a fleet of minibuses.

It is fair to say we weren’t particularly impressed that, having shelled out for a train ticket, we would be going home in a cramped, sweaty Ford Transit which vibrated like a pneumatic drill every time it stopped at traffic lights. But for the party of elderly American tourists we shared the journey with, it seemed like the holiday of a lifetime. Every nondescript back street of Warwickshire warranted a running commentary, they marvelled at the sight of each red-brick Victorian terrace. “Hey, look at tha’ li’l car down there,” and “Hey, look! Prince Hairrry Street!”

And when it came to the first stop, there was an incredulous “Is thaert the train station?”

The train station. At the time, that seemed hilarious. I had never heard it called that before. Up until then it had always been the plain old railway station. And indeed, it continued to be for the 17 years that followed.

Then one day in 2006, when booking a holiday, I noticed the young travel agent was using the T-word. Again, it seemed quite sweet, a little bit quaint. If only I had realised how infuriating this would become over the years that followed, as this Americanism progressively crept into the British lexicon.

I am not alone in my irritation. Indeed, there is a blogger – another strange word I’m not particularly fond of – who has written a 1,600-word essay on why the term ‘train station’ is unacceptable in British English. His website is called ‘Grumpy Old Sod’, which probably gives you some insight into the direction we’re heading.

Mr Grumpy has clearly given the subject a lot of thought, coming to the conclusion that the American train station and the Great British railway station are actually quite different beasts. In America, where railroads – is that coming next? – run for hundreds of miles through sparse countryside, a train station is often little more than a staging post in a desert wasteland. Somewhere slightly akin to a bus stop, where you stand and wait for a train.

By contrast, he says, British railway stations tend to be much grander affairs, with booking halls, waiting rooms, and shopping malls, and are often the focus of our towns and cities. Speaking as someone who has only ever been on one train in America, a narrow-gauge steam locomotive through the mountains of Colorado, I will have to defer to Mr Grumpy’s better knowledge. But he raises an interesting point.

He says when he has challenged people on this subject, he has been told to ‘get a life’, and there was a time when I might have agreed. But as the years go by, these things seem increasingly annoying. For example, why do people suddenly find it necessary to talk about closets, couches and elevators? Who do they think they are, J R Ewing?

It isn’t just Americanisms, either. Why do people say: “He turned round to me and said this, so I turned round to him and said that”? Is it normal for people to continually rotate through 180 degrees every time they discuss something?

Then there is the old “it is what it is”, or its equally objectionable cousin “we are where we are”. What the flip does that mean? And then there is “I will try and do something”. Try and do something? Both at once? Try to do something, surely.

Why are new buildings now referred to as ‘new builds’? And what is ‘signage’?

I realise that to the backdrop of the challenges facing this country at the moment, the odd piece of American English, sloppy syntax or clumsy cliches are not life-changing events. But unlike so many of these other matters, it is actually something we can do something about. And it costs nothing.

Patriotism is back in fashion. Everywhere you go people are proud to fly the flag, and that is brilliant news. So why not ride the crest of this new wave, and take a pride in what is probably Britain’s greatest export? The English language.