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Dec. 5th, 2005 09:27 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
the_elyanI mentioned earlier that I had a strange encounter in the strange pub in Beverley. Well...
As previously related, I stopped off in the White Horse for a pint, and found that the one problem with its dark and atmospheric interior was that it was too dark even to read. After a few minutes and scribbling a few thoughts, I went off to the loo.
When I came back, I discovered several other people had joined my table - this being a table for six, and it being 5:15pm on a Friday, I could hardly blame them. I listened vaguely to the conversation of three of them, and became sure at least two were from Teesside - I can't do the accent to save my life, but I know it when I hear it. After listening to them for another few minutes, they started talkiing about places I knew, so in a lull in the conversation, I said cheerily, "Thought I recognised the accent. You people from Teesside?"
"No" (said with the air of someone denying they'd been anywhere near the warehouse on the night in question)
"Oh - thought I heard you mention Eaglescliffe. I'm from near Middlesbrough"
"Yeah, right. Know the golf club? You should do if you're from Middlesbrough"
There followed a few exchanges which fell just short of outright hostility, then they ignored me again.
As I mentioned, having no chance of reading, I wrote instead - impressions of the pub, story ideas, that sort of thing. I did this until I'd nearly finished my pint - then in another lull in conversation, one of thecharmers opposite said, "Here - you taking shorthand or something?"
"No - I just have crap writing. I'm just writing down some thoughts"
"You writing a book?"
"Maybe, eventually"
Some more excahnges about our shared local heritage followed - I think they accepted I was a local eventually, after I named all six pubs on Yarm High Street in the correct order. If I tried to vary the geography discussed or the topic, however, it had as much effect as trying to steer a train. The level became less hostile, but it never got warmer than "grudgingly civil but mistrustful". The fact that, before 6pm, they were apparently on their sixth pint apiece may have had something to do with this.
It was only when I had left and got into the fresh air that the significance of the "shorthand" question hit me - these people thought I was taking down their conversation in shorthand, presumably to shop them to the filth. The fact that they had not been in the pub when I arrived, and had chosen my table at random in my absence, clearly did not count a whit in my defence. In retrospect, I'm probably glad one of them didn't run after me and steal my notebook, belting me one just for good measure.
Amazing, isn't it? Most people, meeting a native of the same locale 100 miles from home, would be at least noncommittally friendly for a few minutes, then politely move on. Try it with Teessiders, and they think you're the fuzz...
As previously related, I stopped off in the White Horse for a pint, and found that the one problem with its dark and atmospheric interior was that it was too dark even to read. After a few minutes and scribbling a few thoughts, I went off to the loo.
When I came back, I discovered several other people had joined my table - this being a table for six, and it being 5:15pm on a Friday, I could hardly blame them. I listened vaguely to the conversation of three of them, and became sure at least two were from Teesside - I can't do the accent to save my life, but I know it when I hear it. After listening to them for another few minutes, they started talkiing about places I knew, so in a lull in the conversation, I said cheerily, "Thought I recognised the accent. You people from Teesside?"
"No" (said with the air of someone denying they'd been anywhere near the warehouse on the night in question)
"Oh - thought I heard you mention Eaglescliffe. I'm from near Middlesbrough"
"Yeah, right. Know the golf club? You should do if you're from Middlesbrough"
There followed a few exchanges which fell just short of outright hostility, then they ignored me again.
As I mentioned, having no chance of reading, I wrote instead - impressions of the pub, story ideas, that sort of thing. I did this until I'd nearly finished my pint - then in another lull in conversation, one of thecharmers opposite said, "Here - you taking shorthand or something?"
"No - I just have crap writing. I'm just writing down some thoughts"
"You writing a book?"
"Maybe, eventually"
Some more excahnges about our shared local heritage followed - I think they accepted I was a local eventually, after I named all six pubs on Yarm High Street in the correct order. If I tried to vary the geography discussed or the topic, however, it had as much effect as trying to steer a train. The level became less hostile, but it never got warmer than "grudgingly civil but mistrustful". The fact that, before 6pm, they were apparently on their sixth pint apiece may have had something to do with this.
It was only when I had left and got into the fresh air that the significance of the "shorthand" question hit me - these people thought I was taking down their conversation in shorthand, presumably to shop them to the filth. The fact that they had not been in the pub when I arrived, and had chosen my table at random in my absence, clearly did not count a whit in my defence. In retrospect, I'm probably glad one of them didn't run after me and steal my notebook, belting me one just for good measure.
Amazing, isn't it? Most people, meeting a native of the same locale 100 miles from home, would be at least noncommittally friendly for a few minutes, then politely move on. Try it with Teessiders, and they think you're the fuzz...
