Autumn or Fall

Welcome to the Spot Writers. This month’s prompt is “autumn or fall.” This week’s contribution comes from the pen of Phil Yeats. 

In April 2024, Phil published The Body on Karli’s Beach, the third book in his Barrettsport Mysteries, a series of soft-boiled mysteries set in a fictional South Shore, Nova Scotia town. For information about these books and The Road to Environmental Armageddon, his trilogy about the hazards of ignoring human-induced climate change, visit his website: https://alankemisterauthor.wordpress.com/. He published his latest book, a novella titled Starting Over Again: A Post-Apocalyptic Fantasy, earlier in 2025.

 

***

Autumn or Fall

by Phil Yeats

 

Jeremy and I sat at a table in the residence cafeteria, lost in a discussion of the P vs. NP problem. We’d arrived at eight for breakfast and were still at the table pouring over masses of scribbled notes at ten. Percival Adams the third marched in and came straight to our table. He’d piled his breakfast tray high with all the unhealthy food the cafeteria staff offered on Sunday mornings.

“Crikey,” he said. “Why aren’t you two outside enjoying the fall colours? I don’t suppose you noticed, but we had a frost last night and poof, the leaves are now reds, oranges, and yellows.”

“Fall? Did you say fall? Shouldn’t it have been autumn?” Jeremy said. He was always quick to satirize our fellow student from the Boston states and his obsession with everything English.

It was a sunny but cool October morning. I’d noticed and enjoyed seeing the coloured leaves through the cafeteria windows and didn’t want to listen to Jeremy and Percy’s extended bickering. “Fall or autumn—either is acceptable here, in Britain, and in the US. Autumn is more formal and fall more informal.”

Jeremy wouldn’t back down. “That’s secondary. The English, who tend to be more formal, say Autumn. Americans, more informal, say fall. It’s only here in Canada that the two are interchangeable.”

“Bollocks,” Percy replied, switching from the upper class crikey to more working-class Brit talk. “I’m just trying to fit into the culture up here north of the border, where you insist on using British rather than American English.”

Now they were really into it, a totally meaningless argument about the trivialities of language, when Jeremy and I were getting our heads around the P vs. NP problem.

“Is that so?” Jeremy replied. “What do you think we’d call chemical element number 13, the one with the symbol Al?”

“Aluminium, just like in the UK,” Percy replied.

“Hah, you’re dead wrong. It’s always aluminum up here north of the border, just like in the US.”

“But you spell colour and other words like it with our not or like it should be.”

“As it should be for words with French roots. But, we spell realize with a zed, like in the US.”

“Not so. I’ve seen it spelt with an ess up here.”

“Okay, our Canadian dictionaries accept both spellings for some words, but trust me, almost everyone pronounces it like it has a zed. And what about some other words, like skeptic? It’s always with a kay, never a cee, like in England?”

Percy stood up, taking his now empty tray. Somehow, he’d wolfed down his enormous breakfast during the confrontation. He stared down at Jeremy. “What’s your point, you stupid little math geek?”

“You’re an American. Talk and spell like an American, or try to incorporate some Canadian usage. We’d appreciate that. But your English schtick is nothing but a pain in the ass.”

“Shouldn’t that be arse?” Percy said with a sneer.

“No, dammit, it shouldn’t,” Jeremy yelled at his departing back. 

I leaned back, swallowing coffee that had gotten cold, while Jeremy cooled down. Percy, who could be a pain in the ass, or should that be arse, had the last word. He usually did.

 

***

The Spot Writers:

Val Muller: http://www.valmuller.com/blog/

Catherine A. MacKenzie: https://writingwicket.wordpress.com/wicker-chitter/

Phil Yeats: https://alankemisterauthor.wordpress.com/

Chiara De Giorgi: https://chiaradegiorgi.blogspot.com/