Divided by a common language

Having moved into a new home recently, there have been all kinds of things to do. Moving boxes. Organising stuff. Getting things for the household.

For example, last week I was asked to go to the local supermarket to get some white rolls. Off I went.

I returned home a little while later, triumphant and brandishing a nine pack of “Embossed toilet tissue – 9 white rolls”. The best part was it matched the décor of our powder room.

“Thanks,” Rachel accepted graciously, “but I wanted bread.”

“Um, I’ll be right back.” I left for a return trip to the supermarket knowing that after almost twenty years I still don’t understand the English.