The Butterfly

The butterfly

‘ The “butterfly” was a long time coming. I had tried the substitute method, “Find another word that will do the job just as well but is easier for you to say”, my speech therapist had told me many times but what else can you use for “butterfly”? If I knew what type, it could become “red admiral” perhaps but I am no entomologist so I just had to get it out. I have long realised that less is more when you have a speech impediment. This starting from my reluctance to put my hand up in class to answer a question, preferring always to appear a little slow.’

‘Throughout my life I have struggled with articulating the hard consonents, ‘b’, ‘p’ and ‘m’, been tormented with the usual, useless, unrelenting vocal excercises “My mother makes munchy macaroons at her madrassa in Melton Mowbray”, the ridiculous “Peter picks a peck of…”  and what about the “Barry blogs about bananas because his boss banned beetroot”? What nonsense, nothing worked.’

‘My worst nightmare is having to order a drink in a pub for one of my mates “A pint of Mitchel and Butler’s best bitter please”. Six traps waiting for me in that short request, closing time would come before he got the drink. I usually end up with whatever is on offer that is easiest to say, so at least I get to try a range of drinks. I have found by long experience that a “lager shandy” then answering the question “pint?” from the person behind the bar with a nod, satisfied both needs, thirst and ease of naming, so that is what I habitually drink.’

‘I am older now and have gained enough confidence to realise that my halting speech is part of who I am and people can either take me as I am or do the alternative. It doesn’t bother most people once they get to know me, the remaining problem is when I meet a fellow sufferer and each thinks the other is taking the piss, but neither can accuse because neither  can say it.’

‘”Butterfly” was in answer to the question,”What is that?” from my girlfriend, Pauline (!) who was walking beside me across the hay meadow that still had clover and buttercups in the sward, not yet reduced to growing just the ‘efficient’ beef grazing grass in a glutinous soup of herbi and pesti cides. She has long realised that my lack of fluency means nothing to her and she just waits calmly until I have finished what I wanted to say. I don’t want people finishing words and sentences for me – do you remember the “Two Ronnies” sketch a few years ago on television where the larger Ronnie habitually did this for the littler one and always chose the wrong word, thus extending the pantomime?’

‘I called my lab, Robert, back to my side, I don’t want him worrying the friesian calves that are clustering curiously near the gate into the next field.’
‘Do you wonder why I don’t shorten my dog’s name?’