How to be a Geordie – A Southerner’s Perspective
In 1983, I went to live in Damascus for three years. I never had any structured Arabic lessons, but did come away with a few phrases which I could use if I ever needed to. For instance, I could help a Middle Eastern visitor if they needed to count to ten, say hello or goodbye, or wanted to talk about salad. That was it though. Arabic is difficult, or so I thought.
And then I moved to Newcastle.
I’ve been here for nearly 30 years, so I’m almost more Geordie than Southerner now. I’ve learned to understand even the broadest accent but I’m a long, long way from being able to speak it, which is a shame because as most of the country agrees, it’s a very popular accent and I’d love to be able to impress people with it.
Let me give you a couple of examples. There was a very popular programme on TV a few years ago called “The Wire”, which most of my work colleagues really liked. As I sat and listened to their conversation, I kept hearing it being referred to as “The Wye-ah.” After the fifth or sixth time, I piped up. “Look chaps,” I interjected. “There’s only one syllable in “Wire””!
There was a pause. It was as if I’d walked into a Wallsend pub and asked for a lager top. Eventually, my mate Paddy looked me in the eye and said, quietly, “Away with your Cockney foibles, Mobbster.” Of course he’s right. Except for the bit about me being a cockney, but that’s another story. It’s me who had the unusual accent in that particular office…so it’s now “The Wy-ah” to me too. Although I’ve still not actually seen it.
To the untrained ear (mine) the letters “A”and “O”, and “G” and “J” sound exactly the same. The former caused particular problems because I was an EO in the Civil Service. Many’s the time I thought someone called me an AO. Oh, how we laughed. No, really, it was funnier if you were there.
My first day at The Ministry in 1990 didn’t go well, as I was over an hour late. I lived in Carlisle at the time so it was quite a journey to work. I took the train, and knew I had to get a metro to Jesmond. To my delight, the train actually stopped at the Metro Centre! Where all the metros go! How lucky was that!?
So I hopped off and asked one of the few people who were there at that early hour where the metro station actually was. Imagine my confusion when he told me I’d have to get a bus into Newcastle.
When I did get to the office that I was supposed to be working from, I met my first real-life Geordies, (not counting Michael Green, who came to be in our school for a couple of months in 1966). It was all very exciting, until one of them asked me where I was from. When I told him that I was born in Eastbourne, I had to explain to him exactly where that was. He had no idea.
“Well,” I japed, it’s about as far south as you can get. If it had been any further south, I would been French hahaha.”
Well, that didn’t wash with my new friend. His reply was “I don’t like the South. Don’t like the place, don’t like the beer, don’t like the people.” Think Terry Collier in The Likely Lads and you’ll have the measure of the guy. Our friendship never took off after that, but I should say that I’ve never had anything but a warm welcome from everyone else I met in the last thirty years of the place I now call home. And two of the lads who started at the ministry with me on that fateful day became two of my best mates.
I’ve done what I can to fit in and it’s worked – although to be honest it’s not difficult to settle here, with everyone being so welcoming. There’s none of this “Ooh you have to have lived here 200 years before you can be a Geordie” nonsense that can happen in other parts of the world.
I’ve been to all the local landmarks – Monument, St James Park, The Crown Posada, The Lit and Phil, Ouseburn, Greggs – and made some great friends. I’ve ridden on the metro and had my fair share of stotties. I just love Newcastle and the North East, there is nowhere in the world like it. Not in the parts of the world I’ve seen anyway, and I’ve been about a bit.
Get yessels here man!
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