Why would one talk posh in Buckie?

This morning I was inspired by a Herald article“Linguists ask: Why would one talk posh in Buckie?”

In my linguistic history I spent my first 12 years in Buckie – toonie rather than fisher or fairmer – then 6 years in Portsoy. Then another 5 years at University in Aberdeen.

Then, in 1972, I failed an interview for VSO because the interviewer, who came up from England and had a posh accent, could not understand me and therefore reckoned that I would give foreigners a tough time. I can no longer remember the details but I reckon the bloke’s excessive poshness must have made me turn up my Doric class war button. That was not a sensible thing to have done. But it worked out well in the end. 

I past another interview and went to teach in Jamaica where the kids had fun imitating my Scottish accent. But this was my semi-posh, International Scottish voice rather than the Doric. I was well aware of the two forms and when they might be used. Patois is the Jamaican Doric. It has deep and shallow extremes with political and social implications.

I subsequently worked in 5 countries where the official language was English – but there were many other first languages (eg 92 languages in the South Sudan). The kids were nearly all multilingual – often in languages which were very different. This made my encounters with the Doric seem pretty small beer.

I was in the S Sudan helping to set up a Model Day Secondary School. Part of this process was to think of all form one teachers as teachers of English as a Foreign Language. This allowed a maximum number of kids to become competent in English despite the fact that the form one teachers came for a wide range of linguistic backgrounds themselves. 

Later in my career the focus shifted from what was being taught (general science and biology aimed at children) to the process of communication at the national level through the use of ‘plain language’ to influence poverty reduction strategy.

Bit I hivna bed awa. In atween the foreign jobbies a’v taen some time oot tae contemplate the infinite fae Portsoy. When the al fokes were still aroon we’d blether in the Doric. Bit these days the groups that I deal wi hae ootsiders among them so we dinna ging far intae the Doric.

I did my bit tae keep it alive by writing a Doric version o the Boat Festival’s Souvenir Programme’s welcome page for a few years. Bit that wiz jist a token gesture. 

I maybe suffer a bit of ‘colonial lag’ because of my time in ithir pairts. But it seems like a cruel twist o fate that I have not done more to promote my ain language and culture. Perhaps self deprecation is part of the ethos. Doric foke dinna hae existential crisis or class wars? Fitivir. Doric’s on the wye oot. “Why would one talk Doric in Portsoy”.