Diary of a Parson's Wife

Polly Zipperlen ponders the positives – and negatives – of talking at cross-purposes

My mum loves a soap opera, so I was brought up on Dallas, until it was appropriated by ITV and I switched to Eastenders. This so replicated life outside my front door – growing up in the East End, that the sense of novelty I enjoyed when watching Dallas, soon dissipated with the familiar cockney twang from the Queen Vic.

At the time I used to marvel at how many storylines relied on characters getting the wrong end of the stick and the ensuing chaos. Oddly, I always thought these were the most fantastical parts – thinking nothing of Bobby’s shower-based resurrection! I felt that a simple correction would solve these misunderstandings – until more recently, when I now see that cross-purposed communication is a pervasive part of everyday life.

We have a name for this phenomenon in our house - Kirkuk. Kirkuk is a city in Iraq where Marcus’s grandfather spent some time in the Second World War and it’s appropriation to misapprehension came about one Sunday afternoon. Marcus’s parents used to host holidays for adults with learning disabilities in their home and there was a very humorous occasion where Grandpa was describing his wartime exploits in Kirkuk and a guest was describing his prowess in the kitchen, believing the conversation was about the ability to cook. Both parties left the conversation happy, and it still makes me chuckle today, 20 years later.

I, too, often find myself using the wrong word and indeed had a long conversation recently about transporting a rowing boat to Lanzarote, describing intricate plans of ‘cratering’, when what I meant was ‘container’. One of our sons thought deodorant was pronounced ‘dehydrant’, whilst our youngest son literally interpreted the can’s advertising strapline, thinking it was designed to be put on clothes. Needless to say, there was a strong, manly odour in our house for a few days.

I have a friend who often misapprehends situations and our friendship was cemented when we both mistakenly rocked-up at what we thought was a ‘Mum and Baby’ group, but was in fact a Breastfeeding group. As we were both bottle-feeding at the time, we became (and have stayed) firm confidantes.

Indeed, my whole marriage nearly took a very different turn, mistakenly hearing ‘police’ when Marcus first mentioned thoughts about becoming a priest. I’m still not sure whether I was relieved or not when I finally understood!