’Oo’s nicked me haitch? by Jan Needle
I remember sitting in a little pub in Havant once, about twenty years ago, when me mother went off on one because she’d heard a well known person on the telly refer to the letter aitch as haitch. I suppose I could date it exactly if I knew when well known persons became celebs, or when what me ma called ‘this ***%**$* abomination’ became current. As you can see, she was not a woman who took such things lying down (ah, those were the days, she’d say – she were a saucy old trollop, were Mrs Needle.) and apparently this hatred had been building up for some time. ‘If it was meant to be pronounced haitch it wouldn’t be spelled aitch would it,’ she argued, foaming at the mouth (which may have been the bottled stout, come to think of it.) And when I said I wasn’t bothered one way or the other, she threatened to disown me. (Come to think of it as well, all I got in her will was the price of a Co-op funeral, so maybe the resentment went deeper than I knew.) But over the years, ...