Anywho, I digress …

Maurice on the London Eye

I get asked about my accent all the time.  When people discover that I am British and not Australian, Irish or  Russian (yes, really), I then get a potted history of their trips to the UK and questions about their next trip.

Everyone has the same questions that largely revolve around places to visit in London.  I try to be polite, but inside, I am screaming “Buy a guidebook!”.  Sheesh – I haven’t lived there since 1996!  The world has moved on since I was there – new phrases have popped up that I have to ask my UK-based friends to translate. That’s pants, that is and fair play to name but two.

Anywho, I digress …

Believe me when I tell you that the cute accent thing can get really old.  It happens everywhere – work, restaurants, shops … and even at the dentist.

There I was, sitting in the dentist chair with a mouthful of dentist’s fingers, when she uttered those dreaded words – “Oh, I love your accent!”.

Me With A Mouthful Of Dentist’s Fingers: <great, here we go>

Owner Of Dentist’s Fingers: “My husband is from Finland.  Nobody understands him either”

MWAMODF: “Ier?” <Translation: Either?  Awesome>

OODF: <to the hygienist> “The English say queue, not line. They stand in a queue!! Ha, ha.”

MWAMODF: <Shoot me now>

OODF: “Queue!  Ha, ha, ha!”

MWAMODF: “Err”  <peeved … tempted to bite the fingers>

OODF: “Ha, ha, ha, ha!  You sound so cute!”

MWAMODF: <Cute. Great. Fingers.  So tempting. Must. Not. Bite ….>

And people think this is a compliment.

Let me be clear. It is not.

Lisa.