Tom gives me shit sometimes because apparently I don’t speak correctly. He laughs every time I say colander and aluminum (I will NEVER add an extra ‘i’ to that word) and he corrects me when I say “beet” instead of “beetroot”.
“A beet is a root,” Tom says, “so it makes sense.”
“A carrot is a root as well. You don’t go around saying I’m gonna make a carrot root cake. Or let’s buy some potato roots and so on.”
Tom only rolls his eyes at me and tells me he speaks proper English and I speak American.
Also, that delicious green fruit with the furry brown outside is apparently a kiwi FRUIT. Tom says this is because there is also the kiwi bird and that he himself is a Kiwi.
According to Tom, if I was to say “I’m going to the veg shop to pick up some kiwis” he would be very confused because the lack of clarification to him makes it seem as though I could be coming home with a bunch of little brown fruits, endangered flightless birds, OR a group of native New Zealanders.
I guess the people of this country have a hard time deciphering meaning through context.
During our weekend in the Northland we were walking around the beautiful rural residential streets of Russell, New Zealand’s original capitol, and I saw this sign…..
The people of Russell must get very confused by the sign. It has absolutely no specification whatsoever.
I told Tom we should probably look for suspicious people hiding in the bushes, low lying furry fruits, AND flightless little brown birds just so we would know exactly what that sign meant and then pencil it in so the Russelltonians would no longer be confused by the ambiguity.
I don’t think he found me funny.
I, however, giggled about it for ages. And that’s all that matters.