I had a cough, was taking anti-biotics but wanted something to soothe the throat. At a gas station, where normally you have to estimate and order the petrol at the counter before filling your car, I guessed at 20 dollars’ worth and filled up to 19. I returned to the counter and was given a dollar change.

“Do you have any Halls or cough-related sweets,” I enquired.

The man behind the counter was baffled. Clearly enunciated English can confuse Americans.

“Have you any extra strong mints. I have a cough,” I said slowly.

“We have some Halls over there,” he replied.

it happens quite often, becuse although Americans love your accent, they do not always grasp the words first time around.

It is said we are divided by a common language and there are many examples of that. Words are often used in a parallel context. For instance you often pass signs informing you that the next on the right are “Collision Specialists”. I imagined calling in and being asked what sort of collision I wanted to order. “We have grades from 1 to 10. 7,8 and 9 can be lethal and 10 most certrainly is. This week we are offering a special deal on helping you to blame your other half for scraping the gate post, complete with a spray of paint to touch up evidence on the gatepost.”

We were listening to three former college girls talking about their experiences in the outside world. when one told an anecdote, the others described it as “awesome” and when the story finished on a downbeat note, her friends chorused: “Bum-merrrrr.”

The over-use of the word awesome leaves me itching to ask them how they would describe experiencing a two-minute orgasm. Probably they would say that was “really neat.”

Niagara Falls, Monument Valley and the Grand Canyon are awesome.

When at a hotel with our friends Peter and Marilyn, we were asked if we were old friends. Pete explained I was best man at his wedding back in 1967, to which we were greeted with the response of “awesome”, which left me feeling I was being patronised. In fact this is just a habit the Americans slip into.

I asked for some salt in a diner. The waiter said: “Absolutely.” He returned with some salt and when I expressed thanks, he replied: “Absolutely.”

I know of at least one pedantic Englishman who would take the waiter - sorry they are called servers - to task for greeting him and his wife with: “Hi you guys.”

“Excuse me. I am not a guy. I am a man and my wife is not a guy but a female,” I can imagine him saying in clipped assertive English tones.

As it is, when you enter a restaurant they will offer to show “you guys” to a table, and possibly you will be given a menu or two with an: “Alrighty I’ll be back soon but first can I get you guys a drink.”

Later the server will return and enquire: “Are you guys set?” which means are you ready to order.

Then they will return at the end of the meal and ask if “are you guys done?” - finished with your plates. Whereupon they will offer to “take those plates away for you,” as if this is a very considerate gesture.

It seems standard restaurant-speak, no matter how far up or down the food chain you go, just as you can extract a number of “you’re welcomes” just by saying thanks every time they deliver an item. The only difference might be that in the more rural areas, you become “you folks” instead of "you guys”.

Usully you are told to take care, or have a great trip as you exit the restaurant. Your check (bill) will often as not contain a simple table, telling you what the tip would be at 15 per cent, 17.5 per cent, 20 and up to 25 per cent. If you give more than 15 per cent, you are informed by the server that he or she is “truly appreciative” or “mighty appreciative”. As yet our tips have not evoked an “awesome” and it is not our intent to head in that direction, but waiters are paid a very basic wage and it is down to the public to finance their labour.

One waitress showed enterprise by writing “thank you” and adding a smiley face to the check. 

Apart from the food, there are invariably a few “thigh chaffers” as I call them - for the most part women who are so obese, you half-expect the inside legs of their jeans to catch fire with the friction caused by walking. It is not only the size of these women, but the amount they eat that leaves you amazed. Some of their orders do deserve the label: “truly awesome”.

Invariably, upon entering a restaurant that has been open a couple of hours, you will encounter diners leaving with their polystyrene take-out boxes because the size of the portions is too much for most mortals. You can look at the menu and decide on something like chicken cooked in a certain style on a bed of rice. Then comes the catch. In the small print you discover this dish entitles you to a “side” (side-order) of salad or soup plus two additions to the main course. This can include a “loaded baked potato”, which is a standard jacket, with bacon and hot cheese melts (or variations on the theme), and all of it comes with an automatic side of toast, biscuit (scone) or cake.

I would not be surprised if they were offered a side order of pure calories, some would opt for it.

When we order our breakfast, we opt for two eggs (over-easy), crispy bacon and hash browns or home fries or chips. The server cannot seem to take in the fact you do not want anything other than that. It sets us up very nicely for the day.

I know there are individuals who have a congenital problem that means they put on copious amounts of weight but the majority of the obese are just self-indulgent. Apart from the hoardes of "thigh chafers” who truly abound in this country, there are the male “belt-busters” - those whose guts are so immense, their trouser legs look like windsocks and they cannot possibly sit or fit in a booth. So they wait until an individual table becomes vacant, standing there like grotesque Michelin men and you half expect the surplus fat to start eeking out from beneath their trouser bottoms.

There are a series of emails titled “Wallmart Babes” and they are neither posed nor exaggerated.

Both Ellie and I battle with the problem of putting on weight and we could do with being trimmer. However, battle is the opertive word: too many just surrender.

I quite enjoy the American’s use of the word “mess” as a colletive noun as in: “They got married and had a whole mess of kids."

Every year we have visited the States and that is six times since 2000, we land in mid-September and stay for around 30 days. We have been lucky: it is always exceptionally good weather. In 180 days, we have only known rain on two days, so we have been lucky. Actually, make that three days because after writing that sentence, it has started to rain. We also arrive at the time when Halloween is on the horizon and pumpkins abound. You pass signs which inform you: "Mums Pumpkins for sale".

As this was repeated we wondered why a woman’s pumpkins would be significantly superior for them to label them so.

Then we fell in. There is a lack of a comma or an apostrophe in these signs. They should read: “ ‘Mums, pumpkins for sale.”

For mums are chrysanthemums.  

You just have to learn the language because it is English captain, but not as we know it.