I've just been watching Sherlock. If you havent already seen the new series then you should. It's very good.
Anyway, the opening minutes of this weeks episode was of Holmes talking to a prisoner, making a point of correcting his grammar at regular intervals until the prisoner made a concious effort to correct himself first.
That was me in the days when hubby and I were young and in the early stages of our relationship. We were both in the Navy and would travel up north to visit parents now and again. My parents were a Policeman and a hairdresser, not exactly academics but they did know how to put a reasonable sentence together. Genetically they must have been ok as between them they produced me, who passed her eleven plus and ended up in Grammar School.
Hubby's parents however were a Dental Surgeon and a Head of English and to my mixed Lancashire/Yorkshire upbringing talked 'posh'. Like 'proper posh'.
I tried hard to think of words that sounded better than the ones I used without thinking, and I'm sure on many an occasion used something totally incorrect. Mum in Law couldn't help herself and corrected my 'me/I/one's' or the way I pronounced a word and then apologised for doing so, making more of a point that I was not as educated as 'one would like'.
Don't get me wrong, she is a lovely, kind woman and never shows anything but affection towards me but she probably thought my Grammar School education was wasted.
Nowadays I just ramble on saying what I like, most normal people seem to understand what I mean. I gradually gained confidence and once my feet were under the table had no need to impress with anything other than good manners and knowing where to place cutlery at a dinner table. (Something one of the other daughters in law was unable to do - Ha!)
I catch myself correcting my sons who have a Northumberland accent and use lots of local dialect, like. "I don't know" becomes "Ah divvent nah", and "Don't worry" is "Nee Botha".
Pity Grandma is now to frail to use her elocution skills.
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