English?

 

I’m standing at the counter in one of a million souvenir shops. Shot glasses, cork bracelets, ‘I heart Lisbon t-shirts’, all flank me as I stare, open-mouthed, like a guppy staring into the jaws of a great white. A perfectly nice, polite woman is stood opposite. She’s smiling, dressed neatly and isn’t holding any kind of weapon. She’s showing no intent of punching me on the nose. All she has done is to speak very quickly in a tongue that I only know how to say ‘thank you’ in. My heart rate quickens, and I chew the air for a second. For all I know she’s asked me if there as anything else I wanted, if I had any spare change or even if I want to go swinging with her and her Portuguese husband tonight. The last scenario may be unlikely but to any of these questions a simple ‘thank you’ doesn’t quite fit. I have only one option. ‘English?’ I reply. My boyfriend, Dylan, laughs behind me. ‘Oh, I’m so sorry, I said would you like a bag?’, she beams back.

As a retail worker in England, you aren’t required to speak another language. A couple of GCSE’s and you’re away. Despite this, 72% of business leaders say that they value language skills in their employees. Of course, this isn’t compulsory and instead, we opt to stumble our way through a conversation with our foreign neighbours. Who wouldn’t want to be emphatically shouted and gesticulated at? Screw a normal, polite and articulate conversation. It’s not like we’re British.
Whilst most might find the world’s proficiency in English a rather convenient luxury, I couldn’t help but feel minorly embarrassed. A week ago, when surprised with my first holiday in over a decade, I think I rather disappointed Dylan with my response. Instead of greeting him with gratitude and jubilation, I gave him a ‘Where’s that?’. Now I’m stood in sunny Portugal, having a lovely time and I can’t speak a single word. My geography skills leave much to be desired, evidently, but nothing a peruse of a map can’t fix. In the way of language barriers, Google Translate is now there to help us pole-vault our difficulties. In the summer, when asked by a German what a leak was, my assistant manager swiftly pulled out his phone. A few thumb-taps later and a rather feminine robotic voice announced ‘lauch’. I don’t remember much in German, having opted for French at Year 9. I can count, tell people how old I am and, if in need of a long green vegetable related to the onion I can now say ‘lauch’.
As I’m sure you have now realised, I am not the most well-travelled individual. Having lived in Cornwall all my life, I am very much used to the world coming to me. 39.2 million tourists made the trip overseas to England in 2017 so they could scran an ice cream or some fish and chips. Being a Cornish student, I have spent most of my holidays serving each years’ swarm of tourists. Whilst they bring £9,103,257,000 to Cornwall’s economy, which goes some way to sustain our county through the winter months, I’d love a holiday. Alas, I am left behind working in a local café, sweating like Theresa May on Question Time. Meanwhile, 72.8 million of the UK boarded any means of transport possible in 2017, in search of weather that doesn’t resemble the moist warmth of my hospitality-bred armpit.

What strikes me about this scenario is how lucky I am that I was born into not just an English speaking country but THE English speaking country.  Since our creation of the English empire, where we influenced all sorts of provinces, from America to India, the English language has now spread to 136 countries. This is good in some ways, I can now say ‘English?’ in a lot of places and know I’ll probably be ok. There is a small part of me, however, that can’t help but feel a tinge of guilt. The fact that someone from, say, China, has to speak English to, say a German person leaves that feeling in my stomach when your Gran says something racist at Christmas. Who are we to fly around, taking for granted the assumption that where ever we are going will accommodate us with a smile and open arms, much like the Portuguese woman I had the pleasure of being served by?

I spent 7 years studying French and it was a struggle. So much so that to my exam I wore a t-shirt emblazoned with ‘Pardon My French’. Whilst this was probably just a stab at high-street retail humour, it’s innocent, baby pink tone must have complimented nicely the sunburnt-red blush that my embarrassed face desperately tried to hide. It definitely captured the apology which I kept reiterating in my mind- something I had made sure to nail in both English and French.
The challenge of learning a second language is one not taken on by many of the English population. Only 38% of us can speak anything other than our mother tongue. EU citizens, on the other hand, are doing much better. 51% are able to communicate with us English folk and 56% are able to speak at least one foreign language. It begs the question as to why we don’t put more effort into becoming a more cultured and worldly society. Perhaps it’s because we’d rather not embark on a lengthy presentation on the pros and cons of euthanasia, all the while being steadily observed by a paunchy, bespectacled man wedged behind a desk in an empty classroom. That’s my personal, PTSD-induced opinion anyway. Maybe it’s more to do with the lack of need. We’re a lazy nation, after all, we love a KFC and night in sat in front of I’m a Celeb. We spend our evenings sprawled on a sofa, cushioned only by Malta and Serbia from the floor of the laziest in Europe.

Perhaps I’ll suggest to the PM that we make a bit more of an effort to be conscientious and request that all English travellers wear a t-shirt offering some kind of apology. Maybe ‘Pardon my English?’.