These are the errors that have splattered me all over the pavement as a Yank in the Potterverse until they were (generally very politely) pointed out to me.
I am no expert: I’ve never lived in the UK, and I’ve only visited the sceptred isle once and for a short time. I am certainly not going to try to tell you what is “British” and “not British.”
What I am attempting to do is alert you to things you might want to think about when you, a distinctly non-British person, are writing Harry Potter (or other Britain-based) fic.
These are things that have tripped me up as an American attempting to impersonate a Brit when I write. (And please take everything here with a large grain of salt—again, I am emphatically not an expert. If you are, and you think I’ve made an error, please give me a shout.)
Aside from the things I mentioned in my post on British school, one thing I’ve gotten wrong in past fic is the idea of a “graduation” ceremony for those leaving secondary (high) school.
As I was duly informed, British secondary schools don’t generally have formal graduation ceremonies for their leavers (as they are sometimes called.) I am given to under stand that these days, some schools may have a reception or small celebration on the last day for their leavers, but it is much more casual than an American graduation. (As the Harry Potter saga is set in the 1990s, it’s highly unlikely Hogwarts would have had a graduation ceremony, ball, or other celebration.)
Unlike American high schools, British secondary schools do not confer diplomas or other qualifications (hence, no need for an awarding ceremony); rather, leaving qualifications are conferred based on results from government-administered exams, and those results generally arrive at the end of summer (on “GCSE results day”), and can be collected from one’s school. (Much more fun to have an actual owl deliver your OWL results, though.)
Likewise, Brits didn’t generally used to have “proms” the way Americans do. Again, I am told that in the last few decades or so, schools have started to have parties or “proms” for leavers, but these tend to be more low-key than their American and are often held at the school rather than at an event venue. (Fun fact: most American proms used to be held in the high school gymnasium, but apparently, hotels and other venues thought that practice deprived them of too much potential revenue, so now prom tickets often cost upward of $100 per person. Never let it be said that American industry left any potential dollar on the floor.)
I have also recently learned (or learnt) of a tradition of the “school disco,” which are/were the British equivalent of the American school dance—somewhat informal affairs with music, dancing, and, presumably, students awkwardly standing around looking dorky—in primary and secondary school. Apparently, these have been dying out in favor of the more prom-like soirees in secondary schools. (Again, in HP-land, there is likely no “prom,” although the Yule Ball seems a good exchange.)
Food is a fraught subject in any culture. It signifies meaning far beyond the nutritive, tiptoeing into issues of class and economics. Here in the US, “grits” are synonymous with “southern,” and Spam and Hamburger Helper carry connotations of poverty. You will not be surprised that Brits have their own culinary social class markers.
I have spent hours down the rabbit-hole trying to figure out whether it’s “lunch,” “tea,” “dinner,” or “supper,” and who would eat which, and when.
Breakfast
In the UK, it seems, breakfast is the only straightforward meal, being called “breakfast” or “brekkie” (in the twee-er quarters).
Lunch
The midday meal might be called lunch or dinner, depending on where the diners are from. Someone from the North of England might call it “dinner” (although I’m told that “lunch” is becoming much more common now.) There may also be class connotations, with “dinner” for the midday meal more common among the working classes in the North than among their southern or middle-class counterparts.
Dinner
The evening meal is now often called “dinner” or “supper,” although again, working-class Northerners might still refer to it as “tea.”
This is not an error I have personally made, but it seems to drive Brits mad when we Yanks commit it, so I’ll mention it here:
Brits don’t eat pancakes for breakfast.
A breakfast in the UK might be anything from eggs and bacon to Cornflakes to oatmeal (porridge) to fruit and yogurt to Special-K (which was, reportedly, the breakfast of choice for Her Majesty, the late Queen Elizabeth II).
And tea.
I repeat: There will be no pancakes.
A Full English Breakfast (or “full English”) will include some or all of the following: Fried eggs, pork sausage, back bacon and/or streaky bacon, baked beans (Heinz), black pudding, toast or fried bread, mushrooms, and tomatoes, orange juice. Some folks say fried potatoes too (hash browns), but others will go to the gallows insisting that this doesn’t belong on the English breakfast plate.
And tea.
In the practical sense, all the time is teatime in the UK. Everyone drinks tea all the time.
Afternoon Tea
However, an afternoon tea is something a bit different. Traditionally held at 4:00, this is formal “mini-meal,” with crustless finger sandwiches (cucumber or egg and cress are common) and pastries. And tea. Not something most folks do every day.
Elevenses
Not just for hobbits, elevenses is an opportunity to drink tea and have biscuits (cookies, for us Yanks) or small pastries between breakfast and lunch (or “dinner”). The rough American equivalent is the mid-morning Starbucks run.
Cream Tea
A subset of afternoon tea, cream tea is a tasty treat of scones and clotted cream. And tea. It’s a tradition associated with the West Country, and a fine one it is, say I.
High Tea
Americans mess this up all the time, believing (as I did), that “high tea” is something posh. Spoiler alert: It isn’t. It’s the “tea” I referred to above that is the evening meal for some folks.
Builder’s Tea
This isn’t a “tea” as in a meal, but a style of tea you’ll hear folks refer to. It’s not a brand or a variety of tea, but rather refers to any strongly brewed black tea. It’s generally brewed from a teabag and is often doctored with milk and a generous helping of sugar. It’s called “builder’s tea” because it was traditionally associated with … wait for it … builders. Snape’s dad would likely have drunk a lot of builder’s tea. (Also known as “gaffer’s tea.”)
Leaving aside the vicissitudes of wizarding fashion, there are significant differences between what the Brits call what they wear and the American terms for the same items. I noted some of these in my downloadable Britpickery document, but I’ll put some of the more glaring errors I and other Americans make here:
Trousers vs. Pants
The things you wear on your lower body that Americans think of as “pants” are “trousers” or “slacks” in the UK. (They are not khakis or chinos in the UK, either. Cargo pants are called “combat pants.”)
Pants, in the UK, refers to underwear—underpants (tighty-whities), boxers, panties—whatever you wear on your nethers under your trousers or skirts. It’s kind of comical when Americans mess this up.
Knickers vs. Panties
Women’s underpants are either “pants” or “knickers” in the UK. “Panties” aren’t a thing.
Tights vs. Pantyhose
Those infernal garments we Americans call “pantyhose” or “nylons” are known as “tights” in the UK. Brits might say “sheer tights” if they, for some unfathomable reason, want to differentiate between pantyhose and tights in the American sense.
Suspenders vs. Garter Belts vs. Braces
Speaking of unmentionables, what we Americans think of as “garter belts” are called “suspenders” or “suspender belts” in the UK. The British term for what we think of as men’s “suspenders” is “braces.”
Vest vs. Waistcoat
Speaking of more unmentionables, the item you might wear under your shirt in the UK is called a vest. What we think of as a vest in the US is called a “waistcoat” across the pond. (The Brits do not have a term for “sweater vest,” although they do wear them. Go figure.)
Shirts
In the UK, a button-down shirt is a “shirt,” plain and simple. Like an American, a Brit might also wear a t-shirt or a polo shirt (or a tennis or golf shirt).
Jumper vs. Sweater
A sweater in the UK is called a “jumper.” Might also be called a “pullover” just like in the good ole’ US of A. A button-up sweater is a “cardigan” on both sides of the pond, but you might hear a Brit call it a “cardie,” too.
Pajamas vs. Pyjamas
The same item of clothing on both sides of the pond; it’s just spelled (spelt) differently.
Dressing Gown vs. Robe/bathrobe
In the UK, you put on your “dressing gown” over your pyjamas.
Jumpsuit vs. Boilersuit vs. Overalls
The working clothes known as “coveralls” in the US are called a “boilersuit” or “overalls” in the UK. When they put on bib overalls, they call them “dungarees.”
Apron vs. Pinny
The full-length thing that Madam Pomfrey wears over her robes in the hospital wing isn’t an “apron.” It’s a “pinny” (short for pinafore, which in the UK is also a type of sleeveless dress.)
(Petunia Dursley, however, might wear a short “apron” over her skirt in the kitchen.)
Trainers vs. Sneakers vs. Tennis Shoes
In an indication of their sartorial importance in the US, we Yanks have a bunch of different words for the casual, lace-up athletic shoes we wear everywhere. Depending on where an American hails from, she might call them “sneakers” or “tennis shoes” or “running shoes” or “training shoes.” In the UK, they generally call them “trainers.” (Although I imagine shops selling athletic attire in the UK differentiate between footwear designed for different types of sport. I don’t know, never having shopped for footwear in the UK, sadly.)
Anorak vs. Parka
The hooded jacket one wears to protect oneself from wind or moisture is called an “anorak” in the UK. It’s what we in the US might call a “parka” (if it’s heavy) or a “windbreaker (if it’s lightweight.)
If you want more errors commonly committed by those of us pretending to be British when we’re actually not, see “The Cranky Bint’s Guide to Brit-Picking.”
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