Match of the Day

Having spent what seems like an awful long time yesterday watching 'A Decade of Great Goals' with my son and his friend, and listening to them talk football incessantly I have the following Breaking News for you.

 

The BBC have announced that, due to cost cutting, Match of the Day is no longer going to be broadcast from Salford Quays but from the less well known Millfield Road studios in North Walsham. Further savings will be made by replacing the regular presenters with Bryn 'they think it's all over' Harrison and Josh 'it's a game of 2 halves' Parker with guest appearances from Ronnie 'which one is Iniesta?' Harrison. Concerns have been raised about the relative lack of experience of these two unknown pundits, but fears have been laid to rest given that they are 8 years old and therefore know everything.

Norwich City

Today I had the rare pleasure of going to watch the Norwich City football team doing a training session.
I am a real novice when it comes to football and have only been lured in by virtue of being married to a Norwich supporter and having given birth to one too. I'm surprised he didn't make his entrance into the world wearing the distinctive green and yellow of the Canaries' strip but, as he was born in Leeds that may not have been the most sensible move. I don't know how the green and yellow came about, but it is not the most attractive of colour combinations and there was definitely no female input in that particular decision making process.
So, Bryn and I settled down in our seats at Carrow Road, trying to keep out of the direct sun on the hottest day of the year so far. We were far too early but the place was filling up quite quickly,  a sea of mainly young boys proudly sporting their outrageously priced Norwich strips, the sacrifice you have to make for supporting a club in the Premier League I suppose. (I just thought I'd drop that in in case there are any Ipswich Town fans reading. I'll be getting hate mail soon; I've already managed to upset most of Yarmouth.)
Nothing much was happening, just a few goalies doing some saving practice - that's the technical term you know- one of whom is quite new and called Carlo Nash apparently. So, all was fairly peaceful, a touching scene of mother and son bonding in a special Norfolk way, when 'The Family Behind' arrived. Clearly this was not their actual name, but as they installed themselves in the seats to the rear of us us it seems like a good label for the time being. So mum, dad and 3 boys under 7 squeezed their way in with much banging of seats (those foldy-up ones), discussion about who was sitting where and knees banging into the back of my head as they got comfortable. Fine, you expect a bit of movement as people arrive, and this is Norwich football stadium on a hot Thursday morning in the school holidays, not Glyndebourne, so stop being a middle-class, middle-aged grump.
But then they opened the picnic. More kicks in the neck as the fruit shoots were handed around and cries from the dad of "Luca! Do you want a sweet? Hey, Luca. I said do you want a sweet? What colour? Does Mum want one? Hey, Lynn, do you want one of these? How about some crisps then..." I'm sure he was a very nice man but he had what can only be described as verbal diarrhoea. Next we got a run down in broad Norfolk of every match they had been to, who had scored, what they had eaten at half time. Then, the smallest child started banging the empty seat next to me and singing "scaredy cat, scaredy cat, sitting on the doormat" ad nauseam. He had clearly inherited his father's talent for making scintillating conversation and penchant for repetition.
In the end we moved, mainly to get out of the sun, which by now had made its way round to us, but also to stop me appearing on the front page of the EDP and quite possibly the national dailies too, for committing some unspeakable act of violence against a whole family of Norwich City supporters.
Anyway, I just hope that the newbie in the squad, Mr Nash, isn't too attached to his birth name because if  'The Family Behind' dad is anything to go by he will soon be answering not to 'Carlo' but to 'Carloo'.

More 'Speaking Naarfalk'

In an earlier post I taught you some basic phrases to help you get by should you find yourself in Norfolk, either by accident or by design. You learnt things such as...

Get orf moy laand - I think you are trespassing old chap.
and
Dew watta bare? - Would you like some alcoholic refreshment?

I do hope you've been practising and are now ready to go onto the advanced course. To get the full benefit you will need to say these out loud, perhaps several times. Don't worry if you're annoying the hell out of your family, or if the other people on the bus are looking at you funny. Trust me. I'm a teacher.

Yew oont get there noo faastuh - You have just overtaken me and are travelling at a good 30 mph faster than I am, but nevertheless we shall arrive at the same time

Thassa pih-ee Hoolt's gonter Wigun - What a shame Norwich City have lost one of their best strikers

Haya bintuh Crooma Pair? - Have you been to Cromer Pier?

Thas lovelee up Yaarmuth - It's very pleasant at Great Yarmouth (It's not - I will do a post on it soon)

Oi go-uh goo up the N un N Toosdee - I have to attend a hospital appointment on Tuesday

Three chairs for ..(insert name) ... - Nothing to do with furniture. What the speaker is trying to say is 'Three cheers...'

She done me a boo-iful bi-uh plaice - My wife cooked me some lovely fish

Moy hairins gooun - I don't hear so well these days

So, now you can confidently converse about football, ailments and Norfolk's finest tourist spots you should find yourself able to join in most conversations.

Prince George of Cambridge

Yesterday while I was blogging about Alan Partridge, it was announced that the new Royal Baby was to be called George Alexander Louis. They are all lovely names but I have to say that I shall always associate the name George with the rather dopey hippo from the children's series 'Rainbow'. The programme had as its main characters three strange puppets, 'George, Zippy and Bungle'. George was the most likeable of the three; as I recall a pale pink, mild mannered hippo. I have no idea what creature Zippy was meant to be, but he was loud mouthed and opinionated, and Bungle, a huge bear would definitely have had his name on some teddy blacklist believe me.
So, what other famous Georges does the new little prince share his name with? Well, there is George Osborne the chancellor, an arrogant, privileged man who has zero idea how much misery he is inflicting on most of the country; or if he does realise, he doesn't care. The only time he has shown any emotion was when he shed a tear at Thatcher's funeral, but that was probably only because he was thinking about the astronomical bill.
Then there is George Michael who can sing quite nicely but can't drive in a straight line and has a penchant for hanging around outside men's toilets.
Next we have George Best who was pretty good at football but unfortunately also rather good at drinking.
Finally, how proud would you be to share your name with that greatest of all men George W Bush? Not very? No, thought not. With parents so unimaginative that they gave you the same name as your father it's not a good start in life is it? Apparently George W doesn't drink but that hasn't stopped him saying and doing stupid things on a monumental, world-wide scale.
So, if you were the young prince looking for a role model which one would you go for? My money's on the hippo.

Getting Things a Bit Wrong

In the interests of accuracy I really should have named this post 'Getting Things Very Wrong' but it would have been a very different article altogether, so I shall stick to the more light-hearted and hopefully less legally compromising 'Getting Things a Bit Wrong'.
We shall start with those masters of the trade, small children. As they begin on that wonderful adventure which is learning to communicate, they often get things slightly skewed. When Bryn was very small, probably about 2, he was getting quite agitated in the bath asking me to get a flannel as he had 'a whack' in his ear. A whack, I thought, immediately concerned (see post on Worrying). Had he been hit at nursery or fallen over and injured himself? He didn't appear to be in any discomfort though so I continued my investigations and eventually realised that in his toddler logic 'A whack' was the singular form of 'wax'.
More recently I was looking after (and I use that term very loosely) my 5year old nephew. He was out in the garden with my son playing with the football. When I dragged myself away from Jeremy Kyle and went to check on them he came running up to me and said  "Auntie Sian. we've been playing sleepy puppies". For those of you not familiar with the world of young boys he meant 'keepy uppies'.
Getting things wrong, however, is not the sole preserve of the young, and modern technology is often to blame for glaring errors. On-line translation tools are the worst offenders, but I have enough material there for a separate post, so you'll have to wait. One of my own favourite auto-correct errors appeared on a worksheet I had produced for my pupils. I am sure year 10 will never forget the day they learnt how to ask directions in French to the 'pubic gardens'.

Speaking Naarfolk

If you ever find yourself in this part of the world (i.e. If your Sat Nav has broken down) then you may find you need some help with understanding basic phrases. Here are a few you may hear when out and about.

• Yew nart frum roun hair? - You haven't yet lived in Norfolk for 40 years.
• Thassa roite noice traactur yew gort thair - I like your farm machinery.
• Get orf moy laand - I think you are trespassing old chap.
• Ah yew gunna warch Naarch? - Will you be attending the next Norwich City Match?
• Oim garn up tarn. Yew cummun? - I'm going into the city. Would you like to accompany me?
• Dew watta bare? - Would you like some alcoholic refreshment?
• Moy hatta loive! - Goodness me! (my heart alive)
• That tayk bout an aar. - You'll be travelling for approximately 60 minutes.
• Oi doont loike nunna that forrun muck - I only eat English food.
• Oi hint gotta naarfak axunt- I don't talk like a yokel.

Friday Night Entertainment in North Walsham

Have been so engrossed in watching the tennis that it didn't register that I hadn't seen Bryn (aged 8) for a while. I presume he is out in the garden playing football and not outside Lidl drinking WKD.