The Independent Voice of Southern Methodist University Since 1915

The Daily Campus

The Daily Campus

The Independent Voice of Southern Methodist University Since 1915

The Daily Campus

The Independent Voice of Southern Methodist University Since 1915

The Daily Campus

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Talking in another tongue

Letters from London
 Talking in another tongue
Talking in another tongue

Talking in another tongue

OK, so I am a bit disappointed in my fellow SMU students. I only recieved two responses to my query last week regarding a particular quote from a very specific movie, and neither was the correct answer.

Have SMU students stopped going to the movies? Doubtful. Does anyone read the paper anymore? Perhaps a few. Is there so much apathy on campus that even a bribe of a trans-Atlantic postcard won’t force a response from the public? That seems more likely.

But I always hated reading those columns about how SMU students just don’t care about the environment/school pride/politics/each other, so forget it. I can’t be bothered to waste my time writing about something most people won’t take the time to read anyway.

This brings me to my next point. It has come to my attention that I have adopted a somewhat British vernacular. Not so much an accent, per se, but more of a shift in cadence and an increase in British vocabulary and phrases.

Take for instance my use of “I can’t be bothered” in a previous paragraph, not to be confused with “I can’t be asked.” And my habit of asking questions with a down beat instead of an upswing, what is that? My “whats” are now “whots” and my WEEKend is now my weekEND.

Emphasis has shifted, and my old vocabularly has changed. I ask to use the toilet or the loo, and make fun of others who ask for the bathroom: “Whot, are you in need of a bath?” My sunnies keep those pesky UV rays out of my eyes, and my jumper keeps me warm when before a sweater would do.

I wear my trainers to the gym, not my tennis shoes or sneakers, and it seems most of my sentences end in “yeah?” or “eh?” I can’t stand the English birds from Staines or the blokes who think it cool to pinch my arse in a bar. I say cheers instead of thank you, and last call is not at 10:30, but half-ten. My best mates are proper friends, and that girl hitting on my boyfriend is quite the slag. I’d like a lager, not a beer, and make it a pint, not a glass. And “bumming a fag” takes on a whole new meaning in London.

Those of you who have lived in London will know what I am talking about.

In fact, it has gotten so bad my English boyfriend begs me to “speak British” for him, and when the ocasional “y’all” slips out, it is cause for celebration. But I love it. I am a true Anglophile and can’t wait to make it back to London after graduation – I know I am breaking a lot of hearts with that statement, but boys, there are many more fish in the sea.

So for those of you wondering, no, I can’t say I am overjoyed at coming home to Dallas for a year. But I can say my anticipated return to London in 2003 is definitely something I am looking forward to.

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