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Postcard from Nottingham |
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Tomasz Siuta, who teaches English in
XXVI Secondary School in £ódŸ, won the first prize in the British Studies web
pages ‘Identity’ competition in 2001. This is his account of how he enjoyed
that prize: a ‘Culture Matters’ teacher training course at
New College
Nottingham, June 25 – July 6 2001
![]() Warsaw, 12 May 2001,
Prize-winning Ceremony
![]() Tomasz Siuta with Dr. Jeremy
Eyres, Director of the British Council Poland
Brace Yourself
On Sunday 24 June after a swift
customs control at Okêcie airport I boarded a Boeing 757 and took my seat next
to the window. An assuring voice instructed me how to cower in an unlikely
event of engine problems and how to inflate a life jacket in case we
crash-landed in the sea. After this disturbing introduction I settled down to admiring
fluffy clouds below us. Soon, grinning flight attendants served lunch
consisting of a pork ham and cheese sandwich which I watered down with a cup of
British tea, and for dessert I got a muffin. After two hours we touched down at
Heathrow airport and after a short interrogation at the immigration officer’s
desk I got a visa. The weather in England proved to be a nice change from
Polish chills and rain. For the first time this summer I had a chance to sport
a sleeveless shirt. Cockney and Nottinghamese
Having bought a ticket to Nottingham, I got on the
coach where the only available seat was the one next to the driver, who
magnanimously let me take it only if I didn’t snore. I assured him I didn’t,
which meant I could admire the views from the privileged seat. Soon it turned
out there were two drivers: one from London and the other from Nottingham and
during our three-hour journey they made innocent jokes about the passengers and
each other. It was my first pre-course lesson on linguistic differences between
native speakers of English. I can tell you they didn’t speak the language I
teach in school. On Handfasting and Pets
On the coach I got to know a nice lady who was heading
for Nottingham to attend her daughter’s wedding. The woman was despairing a bit
since her daughter, who was brought up as a Protestant, and her fiancé had
opted for a pagan ceremony called Handfasting. My newly-met acquaintance turned
out to be a real British lady because not before long she started letting me in
on her cat’s condition and began reciting poems from the feline-related book
‘The Cats of the Tribe’. First Hand Knowledge
On arriving in Nottingham I was collected by my future
teacher trainer, Adrian Tennant, who hailed a typical black English taxi and
took me to my host family. To my surprise it turned out the family had Polish
roots as the owner of the house (who was unfortunately in hospital at the time
of my stay) was born in Pabianice, later migrated to Germany and finally
settled in England. The house I was supposed to stay in had many tenants: a
French girl who came for a several-week work placement, a Libyan student who
studied English in the building I would soon have classes in, numerous friends
of the family who let out rooms here, and of course four cats which were
allowed to go anywhere they wanted in the house. I got there just in time for 6
o’clock dinner. Naturally we started analysing differences between Polish and
English cuisine and I found out that the dish called mincemeat doesn’t contain
any meat. For the first time in my life I ate apple pie with custard (it’s a
small muffin with apple filling onto which you pour a sort of pudding and heat everything before serving).
During my stay there I had a chance to taste a quiche (a tart filled with
savoury mixture of eggs, cheese and vegetables), poached eggs (you cook them in
boiling water without their shells), bacon and eggs and drink tea á la Briton,
i.e. with milk. Every evening the lady of the house
wanted to be alone because BBC 1 broadcast the famous older-than-the-hills
British soap opera ‘Eastenders’. I, on the other hand, would anxiously wait for
10 p.m. as that was the time when Channel 4 showed Big Brother. It was the
second edition of this reality show in the UK (well, if we don’t count a
week-long celebrity edition in-between, in which famous British personalities
were closed inside the Big Brother’s house to gather money for charity
organisations) and just like in Poland, it attracted as many supporters as
opponents. After watching the programme several times I came to the conclusion
that public British TV is much more liberal as it allows for sexually related
situations and very often provokes them itself. There were frequently many visitors
to the house I stayed at. Once there was a nutritionist from Scotland who
associated Poland with cheap beer. On another occasion came my landlady’s
grandson named Blue (Can you believe it? In Poland you are asked to justify it
if you want to call your baby ‘David’ because social clerks are reluctant to
register children with foreign-sounding names) and many times the house was
visited by my landlady’s friend who taught in a local primary school. I was
really interested in the reality of British state schools and I learned that
when a pupil misbehaves he or she is sent to detention, where they are given
some extra homework to do, or, if they repeatedly do so, their teacher books a
place in the detention for a few days in advance. One evening I listened to
a fascinating lecture on the colloquial
expressions used by Nottingham citizens given by my landlady’s middle son
(while I was there he was attending a teacher training course as he dreamt of
going abroad to teach English). What follows is only a sample of the Nottingham
argot: ![]() My host family and I
Different But Not Strange
![]() New College Nottingham, ‘Culture Matters’ classI came to Nottingham to attend a
10-day ‘Culture Matters’ course for teachers of English. There were 23
participants representing 9 countries - Spain, Hungary, Latvia, Lithuania,
Finland, Greece, The Czech Republic, Italy and Poland – 18 women and 5 men,
teaching English in different parts of Europe. On the first day, during a
90-minute introduction to the links between culture and language I learned,
among other things, that:
-
It’s chucking it down. -
It’s driving rain. (this one
is used in one of Bon Jovi’s songs) At the end of the class we got our first homework assignment, i.e. check what our host families knew about Poland and keep a diary in which we would note down the things that struck us most in Nottingham. I completed the first task on the same day. My host family knew surprisingly a lot about Poland: they named the capital city; the Pope; neighbouring countries; the world-famous former president; and they were able to tell me some historical facts. As for the latter assignment, well, it was more time-consuming but already that day I managed to gather a handful of local peculiarities : ![]() Half of my group taking a walk
One day after classes I grabbed
something to eat for lunch and sat down in the Old Market Square. There were
many people there as this is the most-frequented place in Nottingham. Suddenly
a man who was sitting next to me broke off a conversation he was having with
his friend and out of the blue started talking in high voice about his belief
in God and about his experiences with religion. I was really shocked to hear
him talk about his family problems to complete strangers in the heart of the
city. It looked like Speakers’ Corner in London’s Hyde Park, but still I found
it strange. When he finished, the Nottingham preacher distributed leaflets with
his views on life, the troubled story of his family and the times when masses
in his church took place. On another occasion we dealt with
differences and examples of customs, habits and manners concerning different
nations. Take washing-up, for example. The only thing our two nations have in
common when it comes to this dreadful chore is the fact that we use washing-up
liquid, because the British don’t bother to rinse dishes at all. I don’t want to bore you here so if you want
more detail on this please look at the riveting Bill Bryson book Notes
From A Small Island, in which this American writer describes humorously
his impressions of Great Britain, and to the well-known How To Be An Alien book
by a Hungarian writer, George Mikes, who hilariously describes things he found
shocking when he first set his foot on British soil. On a Lost
Generation
One time
we had a guest speaker from Australia, the country where when you flush the
toilet the water goes the other way round, who told us many shocking facts from
the past of this continent. You may not know it but Australia has had a very
racist past in which apartheid was practised and where indigenous Aboriginal
people lost almost all their land and suffered many prejudices. They were
unable to vote until the late 1960s nor were they granted citizenship. The
authorities used to go even further in limiting their freedom, i.e. they tried
to breed out the Aboriginal people altogether by taking their children away
from their parents and giving them up for adoption to the white citizens of
Down Under. Nowadays many people from that so-called Lost Generation speak
publicly about their tormented childhood, but there are also people who admit
that if they hadn’t been brought up by a white family they would have had
limited chances of getting on in life.
Three teetotallers in front of the oldest pub in UK On Robin and Byron
After
classes together with my group we would occasionally go sightseeing. Since
classes took up most of my time I managed to see only a few places advertised
in guidebooks. Nottingham Castle, situated high above the city, is not what I
call a breathtaking experience, well maybe apart from a black-humour exhibit of
peculiarly shaped caskets, especially a casket for a skier. The Museum of
Nottingham Life at Brewhouse Yard, which is located below Nottingham Castle,
interestingly presents a glimpse of life in the city over the last two hundred
years. My personal favourites were caves behind the museum, which were used as
dwellings in the old days. Since the weather was scorching and stifling we
gladly made our way to the supposedly oldest pub in Britain called The Old Trip
to Jerusalem, which dates back to 1189.
Robin’s new follower I couldn’t
miss Nottingham’s most popular visitor attraction ‘The Tales of Robin Hood’.
It’s a museum where you relive the legend of Britain’s most famous outlaw.
Although I think that the tour is a bit overpriced and tailored rather for
elementary school kids, I had a great time practising archery (it cost me one
pound extra) and I was as proud as the Sheriff of Nottingham’s peacock when my
instructor (who called me ‘Sir Tomasz’, that’s what I call the power of the
pound sterling) presented me with a certificate stating that my shooting skills
were like those of a ballad singer. I scored 13 points at four attempts. Not
bad for a foreigner. Ever since
I saw the film with Jason Connery I had been dying to see Sherwood Forest, a
former royal hunting area and the magical place that witnessed the magnificent
adventures of Robin Hood. Unfortunately when I got there I thought that
‘forest’ was too big a word for that place. It is a much thinned out terrain
which is perfect for jogging, lazy rambles or cycling tours. The magic and
mystery have long gone.
Sherwood Forest But the
place that still possesses its mysticism (well if you pretend not to see the
anti-Mad-Cow-Disease straw mat at the entrance to the estate) is Newstead
Abbey, the former home of the romantic poet, Lord Byron. It is situated 12
miles north of Nottingham but it’s well worth the trip. It’s a beautiful
historic house set in a picturesque landscape of gardens and parkland. It was
founded as a monastic house in the late 12th century, became the
Byron family seat in 1540 and was a private country house until 1931. I
strongly recommend exploring the medieval cloisters, splendid Victorian room
settings and the private apartments of Lord Byron. And, as the guidebooks
extol, Newstead Abbey’s formal gardens are the perfect place for a relaxing
stroll along paths that meander past attractive lakes, ponds and waterfalls.
The local restaurant as usual tries to whisk a substantial amount of money out
of your pocket so if I may suggest something, take a packed lunch with you.
Looking for inspiration at Newstead Abbey Shakespeare Is
Alive
I can
honestly say the highlight of my stay in Britain was a one-day trip to
Stratford-Upon-Avon, the birthplace of William Shakespeare who is currently,
almost 400 years after his death, considered by Hollywood directors the most
popular screenplay writer ever. By the way, did you know that Shakespeare never
spelled his name the same way twice in any of his surviving six signatures,
even employing two spellings on a single document. His contemporaries were even
more approximate in their renderings, leaving us with eighty-three different
spellings of his name. Curiously, the one spelling Shakespeare himself didn’t
appear to use was ‘Shakespeare’
(excerpt taken from Bill Bryson’s book Made
in America). If you happen to be in Stratford-Upon-Avon you must buy a
ticket for the Shakespeare Heritage Trail. For 12 pounds (it’s worth every
penny) you can visit five houses connected with William Shakespeare or his
immediate family. The houses are located in and around the city and they take
you on a fascinating and informative tour into Shakespeare’s life. Shakespeare’s
Birthplace is the first house you visit and as the name suggests it the place
where the playwright was born. Knowledgeable and helpful guides (I must say
that it was the first time ever that I was fully satisfied with a guided tour)
will answer all your questions and satisfy your curiosity as far as
Shakespeare’s childhood is concerned. I learned that the canopy over beds was
put there to stop all kinds of bugs falling onto your bed sheets from the
thatched roof, and not, as I thought for many years, for ornamental reasons only.
Baby William is crying inside One guide
let me in on the secret of short beds. People in Tudor times used to sleep in
an upright position but if you want to know why, you have to cough up twelve
pounds and ask for yourself. The biggest surprise that I came across in the
house was a Shakespeare look-alike guide. No make-up or fancy dress, mind you.
The man looked exactly like the author of Hamlet.
When my friend from the Czech Republic told him he looked the spitting image of
you know who, he shrugged his shoulders and said, ‘ I’m aware of that but try
not to let it go into my head’. Unbelievable. When he asked me where I was from
and I replied ‘Lodz’, he bridled at it and said, ‘Don’t you mean ‘£ódŸ’?’, with
a perfect Polish accent. Who said that the British don’t speak foreign
languages? On Frogs and
Butterflies
Then I
went to Hall’s Croft, named after Dr John Hall, who married Shakespeare’s
daughter Susanna in 1607. John ran a successful medical practice treating many
patients, rich and poor, and the house has a collection of medical instruments,
although they looked more like tools of torture to me, that he used in his
surgery. Another helpful guide enlightened me on the origin of the phrase ‘to have a frog in one’s throat’. You
may know that it describes a difficulty in speaking caused by roughness in the
throat but what you probably don’t know is that it comes from Dr Hall’s way of
treating patients with a sore throat, i.e. he would simply put a living frog on
a string into the patient’s mouth and it would supposedly clear the throat of
any blobs. It makes one wonder where the phrase ‘to have butterflies in your stomach’ comes from, doesn’t it? The
house is situated close to Holy Trinity Church, where Shakespeare is buried.
15th century surgery In Nash’s
House (named after Thomas Nash – the first husband of Shakespeare’s
granddaughter Elizabeth) you may admire the collection of 17th
century oak furniture and tapestries as well as visit the upstairs museum that
traces the history of the town from Roman times to the 20th century.
Behind the house there is a picturesque Elizabethan-style garden where,
together with other participants, we took a dozen pictures of colourful flowers
and shrubs. One mile
from Stratford-Upon-Avon is Anne Hathaway’s Cottage, the picturesque home of
Shakespeare’s wife, before her marriage. This thatched mid-15th
century farmhouse lies in the village of Shottery and continued to be home to
descendants of the Hathaway family until the 19th century. Right
there I discovered the etymology of many common English phrases. I will mention
only a few of them not to spoil the fun of discovery when you get there. When
you go on holiday you look for a place with full board or half board.
Well, in the old days a table was covered by a movable board that was used to
put plates on. Other expressions with this word include a board game, board room,
Chairman of the Board, do business above / under board. If
nobody wants you (especially if you’re a woman on the wrong side of twenty), we
say that you are left on the shelf.
It comes from the fact that in Tudor times women slept on shelves (I know it
sounds funny but you need to go to Anne Hathaway’s Cottage to hear it for
yourself) and were entitled to sleep in beds only if they married. Maybe that’s
the main reason why they married so young. All in all, the cottage is a
treasure-house of facts, phrases, stories and artefacts from when Shakespeare
was dating Anne Hathaway. The last
of the five houses is Mary Arden’s House, named after Shakespeare’s mother, who
lived here in her childhood. It’s a spectacular place with frequent
demonstrations of falconry (a falcon keeper told me that sometimes her birds
escape for a few minutes to hunt a chicken in nearby farms, not to get out of
practice I suppose), and also contains Shakespeare’s Countryside Museum and a
real blacksmith’s forge.
Last drink... Let’s Go Out to
Church
Well, all’s well that ends well, as Shakespeare wrote. My stay in Nottingham came to an end although there were still so many places I wanted to go to. Our farewell party was held in a pub, or a church turned into a pub to be precise. Those British are so resourceful. The minute a church loses followers it is redecorated and beer pumps are set up. Sitting in the church/pub, blasphemously sipping a drink, looking at the beautiful stained-glasses representing religious figures I thought to myself that I must disagree with our course teacher trainer who said that other cultures may be different but they are not strange. The British are strange to us Poles as well as we must appear strange to them with our constant complaining about health problems, massive red tape and summer hot water shortages. It is a positive thing, though. Why else would we want to travel the world if not to find out how other nations live?
Proud as peacocks
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