The Trouble with U

It's also the trouble with 'Z'. Canada is on the fence in terms of its spellings. I have adopted a strategy of randomness when I write, because as far as I can tell, so has the rest of the country. Sometimes they go American, sometimes British. At work I belong to a research group called 'Team Optimize', but I wrote a 'cheque' for a charity contribution. I have described previously the sign at our doctor's office saying 'Medical Centre' which has next door to it one reading 'Travel Center'. (Actually the travel center has since closed down, going the way of cheques/checks.)

Yesterday my daughter texted me from middle school to ask who had made her lunch. I did, I replied. Usually it's her father, but for his birthday, I had wanted to be nice and give him a break. "I don't like it," daughter complained of my cheese, jam, and matzo concoction (it's Passover). "It tastes like farts in my mouth."

I reported this to my husband, also by text. He asked, "Is that bad?" I replied, "Well, it's not a Ben and Jerry's flavor." Red underline. I tried again. "Flavour." Just for fun, I cut-and-pasted into email. This time 'flavor' won.

Canada. Please.

Lynne Murphy at the University of Sussex writes a tremendously entertaining and informative blog that I've mentioned before (I mention it a lot)  called 'Separated by a Common Language' http://separatedbyacommonlanguage.blogspot.ca/ which discusses the Atlantic division of English. However her blog focuses on linguistic differences between the UK and the US. Canada, as in so many other domains, is left hanging, like a Floridian chad, though a lot colder. High of 7C today, by the way, at the end of April. I'm not bitter, no sir, not me. I have been channelling my inner Scarlet O'Hara: "I shall never be frozen again." Until next winter.

But I digress. And now I make my egress.

Saving Helen: #TheArchers

I'm pretty excited because I've just found out what one of my birthday presents will be: a tee-shirt reading "Free the Blossom Hill One".  Below the words is an image of a casserole dish. The One in question is Helen Archer, a fictional character on a radio soap opera that's been running on BBC Radio 4 since 1950. The programme's tagline is 'an everyday story of country folk' and recently, that's a chilling thought. Helen Archer, resident of Blossom Hill Cottage, in the (pretend) village of Ambridge, has for the last year or so been gaslighted and physically abused by her new husband, hashtag #EvilRob Titchener. Devoted Archers listeners have heard what Helen's mostly oblivious family and friends did not. We have shouted ineffectively at the radio, but much more effectively, we have expressed our concerns, comments, cracks, and quips to each other on Twitter. We're the tweetalongers, and we had our finest moment last week when Helen finally decided to leave the bastard. But it all went sour when, after serving #EvilRob a Last Supper of tuna pasta bake--in a casserole dish-- she ended up stabbing him. (Homemade custard was also involved.)

At that point, we trended. I've never been part of a Twitter-storm before; I lead a sheltered life. It's quite something.

There are six fifteen-minute new episodes each week, every week, and an 'omnibus' edition on Sundays. The show itself is rather niche listening. It's a cultural meme; practically everyone in England knows about it, but few people below retirement age will admit to following it. I myself became an Archers Addict long ago, thanks to my pusher, aka my husband. He no longer need bother to keep up, as he can just check with me. Lately, he and I find ourselves discussing events in Ambridge before those at work or home. It's become that gripping. I tried explaining to my husband that this particular storyline has exploded beyond the eccentric little gaggle of fans but he didn't believe me-- at first. Then The Archers started appearing on the front pages of real newspapers in the UK, and on television.  Everyone's talking about it, or so I'm told. I imagine that strangers on the bus exchange views; that cashiers in Sainsbury's give their opinion with the change.

Sales of the 'Blossom Hill' tee-shirts will enrich the funds already raised in Helen Archer's name via a JustGiving page set up by tweeter @paultrueman. The real money-- over 100,000 pounds thus far-- will go to help real women who have suffered domestic violence. Conversations have opened up about the reality and the signs of 'DV' as I've now learned to call it. Legal, psychological, and medical experts have weighed in on Helen's fictional chances and on the real-world chances of woman in similar situations.

New listeners are coming out of the woodwork and navigating their way to understanding via Twitter. @HarrietGunning tweeted 'Is there a support group for people who have never listened to #thearchers and just binged through 9 eps? Asking for a friend'.  @velvetyjoe wrote 'I thought radio was television's poor cousin. #thearchers has taught me otherwise. Much more immersive than tv.' And it's true. I am immersed. Though I'm far from the epicentre, thanks to the magical internet, I can follow along, and tweet along. Still,  it's disappointing that I can't share my views on Helen's best bet for a legal defence with my streetcar driver. Heigh-ho (as a good friend is wont to say).

Anyone with internet can listen in:

http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b006qpgr

From the BBC website

But don't say you weren't warned. CBC, this ain't.