Neither one thing nor the other!

I wrote the other week about being fascinated by languages.  Of course, I need look no further than home, for our broad English vocabulary is largely a product of two languages having merged in the middle ages.  That's why we have two words for a lot of things - one from a Saxon root, the other from Latin - and down the years these have grown their own distinct nuances of meaning.  I thought of this last week when I heard reports of the tragic killing of Jennifer Mills-Westley in Tenerife.  In its news bulletins Radio 4 said she had been 'beheaded'; Radio 5-Live went for the more genteel 'decapitated'.  The two words mean the same thing but, even in writing this, I comment that one is more genteel than the other - why should this be?  Simply that one is from the Saxon, which we consider to be direct, ruthlessly to the point, and sometimes downright rude, while the other is from Latin, and has acquired all the opposite attributes.

The classic example of this distinction is seen in the words we use for meat.  While the animal is still alive it is called by a word of Saxon origin (cow, pig, sheep), but once butchered it becomes food, and is accorded 'Latin status' (beef, pork, mutton).  In the twelfth century, we might imagine, the animals were looked after by Saxon peasants on the farm, while the meat would grace the table of the Norman nobles, who would describe it in their own language.

Now, I come from generations of country folk, who were either small farmers or farm labourers, but could I see myself looking after animals?  Certainly not.  I wouldn't have the first idea of either what needs doing, nor how to do it - let alone feel comfortable trying!  My life moved from town council house and grammar school to a succession of office jobs, until a career change nine years ago led me into the world of transport.  In a way, I suppose, I - and many others of my generation - have crossed that social divide.

And it would be wrong, I suggest, to consider that such a divide no longer exists in the 21st century.  I've already said how uncomfortable I would feel on a farm;  I think I can say the same for working in a factory or warehouse - especially as in my new life I see these situations 'through the doorway', as it were.  But, on my side of the divide, I'm well aware of many places and situations where I would feel equally out of place - boardrooms, business meetings, society parties and the like.

No, far from having disappeared, the divide has itself divided.  As progress has encouraged migration from village into town, and from city to suburb, so the distinction between cottage and mansion has allowed the ingress of a middle ground, where one finds town houses, executive dwellings and so on.  What was once a black and white life has now become a prosperous confusion of may shades of grey.  We no longer know whether we are wealthy or rich!