Ruth Lehtomäki is presumed to be Finnish, until she opens her mouth.

”You’ve been here for how long? And you still can’t speak Finnish?” Well, I have my excuses. I was 40 when I arrived here with my Finnish husband and our fi ve-monthold son. He is nearly 18 now so you can do the math. I decided to only speak English at home so that he could be bilingual, which meant that there would be no learning of Finnish in that environment, but my loss would be his gain.

Hailing from southern England with what used to be a standard BBC accent (but no longer if you’ve watched BBC World recently), I have been the target for English practice from the day I arrived. Try I did, with my few words, asking where the bread was or how much this coat costs, and invariably my mispronunciation was picked up on, and the answer arrived in my mother tongue. Just ask me to say pöllö and pylly and you’ll have no idea whether there are owls or posteriors on the horizon, and you’ll understand the shopkeepers choosing to use English.

By 1994, I had three children under four and helped to raise the average age of childbirth in this country. While attempting to be a super- mum, I attended Finnish classes for immigrants, where many countries were represented; in one class of 25 there were more than ten, including Chile, Japan and Russia. The transferral of knowledge from teacher to student was by some form of osmosis as only Finnish could be used in such situations.

I attracted the friendship of foreigners during my day-to-day life and English was the common denominator. In 1997 our family of fi ve moved from Helsinki to a small town in Central Finland and this time it was mainly English teachers who gravitated towards me and still remain my friends. I began holding English conversation groups in the local lukio and kansalaisopisto (folk college really doesn’t do it justice although most dictionaries give that as the translation). So my next excuse? How can I be fi nding material for them and pursue a career in multiple choices? I could equally ask you Finns, “You’ve got how many endings?”

Don’t get me wrong. I do understand a fair bit of what’s going on around me even if I miss the details, sometimes vital ones, so that I get hold of the wrong end of the stick. Written Finnish is easier to comprehend and sub-titles on TV have been a great help as I can’t stop reading while I’m listening and if I’m honest, sometimes, when I can’t hear the speech properly, especially if it’s American, I rely on the text to keep me informed of the dialogue. However, don’t you just hate it when the numbers are wrong? I feel so sorry on those occasions for older Finns who don’t understand English, particularly when a whodunit is airing and that number or date is crucial to the plot.

Therefore, I try when I have to and the rest of the time I stick to English. Yes, it means my social circle is small but fortunately, even though I don’t think stereotypes should be allowed, I married one and he’s happy at home. Anyway, you wanted to read this in English, didn’t you?