A Different Blue(28)

mother would object to.”

“You say bloody and bugger and blast, right?” someone volunteered from the back of the room.

[page]“Among other things.” Wilson tried to keep a straight face as he continued.

“We don't 'call' our chums on the phone, we give them a ring or a bell. We also don't have

hoods and trunks on our cars, we have bonnets and boots. We don't have bars, we have pubs. We

don't have vacumns, we have hoovers, and an umbrella is a brolly. Which, by the way, you must

have in England. It's cold, and it's wet. After spending two years in Africa, the thought of

going back to Manchester was not appealing. I discovered I loved the sun in large doses. So,

although I will always consider myself an Englishman, I don't think I'll ever live in England

again.”

“Tell us some more!” Chrissy giggled.

“Well, if something is ace or brill it means it is cool or awesome,” Wilson added. “If I were

in London, I might greet you by saying 'All right?' And you would respond with 'All right?' It

basically means 'What's up?' or 'Hello, how are you?' and it doesn't demand a response.”

Immediately, the whole class started asking each other 'All right?' with terrible British

accents, and Mr. Wilson continued over the top of the chaos, raising his voice a little to rein

the class back in.

“If something is wonky or dodgy, it means it's not right, or it feels suspicious. Your latest

score on your test may strike me as a bit dodgy if you have failed all of your previous exams.

“In Yorkshire, if someone says you don't get owt for nowt, they would mean, you don't get

anything for nothing . . . or you get what you pay for. If I tell you to chivvy along, it means

I want you to hurry, and if I tell you to clear off, it means I want you to get lost. If someone

is dim they're stupid, if something is dull it's boring. A knife isn't dull, mind you. It's

blunt, so get it right.” Wilson smiled out at the rapt faces of thirty students, rapidly taking

notes on British slang. It was as if the Beatles had invaded America once more. I knew I was

going to be hearing “chivvy along”, and “she's a fit bird”, in the hallways for the rest of

the year.

Wilson was just warming up. “If you diddle someone, it means you ripped them off. If something

is a doddle it means it's a cinch, or it's really easy. If you drop a clanger, it means you've

stuck your foot in your mouth. Like asking a woman if she's up the duff, which means pregnant,

to find out she's just a bit fat.”

The class was in hysterics by now, and it was all I could do not to laugh with them. It was like

a different language. As different as Wilson was from all the boys I'd ever known. And it wasn't

just they way he talked. It was him. His light and his intensity. And I hated him for it. I

rolled my eyes and groaned and snarled whenever he asked me to participate. And he just kept his

cool, which made me even more “brassed off.”

My irritation only increased as Wilson proceeded to introduce a “special visitor,” a blonde

girl named Pamela who presented a power point on Roman architecture from her recent trip. Her

last name was Sheffield, as in the Sheffield Estates – a popular hotel in Vegas that was

designed to look like an English estate. Her family had apparently built the hotel that still