My family’s move from Cardiff to Dumfries when I was six came with a whole host of vocabulary to learn – both words which were new to me, and old words which were to be discarded. Plimsolls were no longer called daps – but the word plimsoll itself was apparently quaint, and I remain perplexed to this day as to what to call fabric gym shoes. Leather dance shoes were no longer pale pink for ballet but black for Scottish country dancing, and were called pumps, but to fart was also to pump, leaving me, once again, tongue-tied. After dancing lessons were over, we didn’t run errands, but instead went to do the messages. This made running to the shops sound rather less like a chore north of the border; my mental image of Dickensian news boys running from health food shop to post office was replaced by spies smoking pipes (spies always smoke pipes) sloping along the high street.
So this week, we want to know what your messages are. Whether you’re buying out Sainsbury’s stock of cheese and ham sandwiches or are surreptitiously putting together a survival box (one strong piece of rope and 6 rolls of surgical tape, anyone?), we’re curious. Send us your shopping lists, to do lists, the lot.
Send your messages by text or voicemail to us at 07856 853675 or email us at email@example.com The exciting bit? Your messages might end up in a poem and be shared here ahead of this year’s National Poetry Day. Thinking about getting in touch? Go on, add it to the list.