I was treated to several versions of "You haven't lost your accent", this week. Astounded that I could live fourteen years in this State of wonderful dialect, with phrases that do not sound the same in the 'Queen's' English, and not succumb to the twang, has mystified a lot of folk!"Where y'all from?", asked the waiter on Monday evening, as I asked to be moved from the table at where I was seated. "North West of London", said I, after deciding that 'England' was perhaps too vague. "Oh so you're British?" came the question, rather than a statement. I have given up with the explanation that 'Great Britain' is a 'United Kingdom' of several countries, and merely nod. The reason I asked to be moved to another table was that I placed a few tables away from a roaring fire, and no matter which seat I took, the heat was rather too much. "But it is always cold in Britain", and raining, and y'all have fires", was the next comment. Again, I chose not to educate, but to smile and leave the poor man in ignorant bliss.
The conversation continued, as the waiter flitted from table to table, and moved several people who also found the fire to be a little too 'blazing'. "So is Texas very different? What is the biggest difference?" Oh where do I start!
"Where y'all calling from?" I was asked when I called the post office help desk on Tuesday. "Austin, Texas", I said, without a slant on the words. "Oh. You don't have a Texas accent. Where y'all from?" I replied that I was all from England. North West of London, to be exact. The subtle sarcasm did not deter the operator who thought it was 'way cool', and whilst she was looking up the tracking number of the package that had not yet been delivered, she continued to chat, expressing her wish to visit Scotland, and 'Edin-berg', and how she envied me for living there! I chose not to educate! Instead I asked why my package had not been delivered, and why the postman had attempted to deliver it to a business at 7:30 pm. "Well it is New York City. They'all get a lot of mail there". I saw not the connection. She said she would request a rescheduled delivery and hopefully my package would reach its destination within a couple of days. I am not sure how I sound when I attempt to put on an accent to imitate the folks with whom I communicate here, but if it is anything like the accent they put on to imitate me, I am better off not trying! She said something to me that I understood not, and then she laughed heartily letting me know that she could pass herself off as a real Brit, should she ever get to 'Edin-berg'. I thought I should let someone else explain the perils!
"What is this?" I was asked, when Grant sampled the Christmas cake I had made. He said that he had not liked the first taste, but then found it to be irresistible. I had decided to ice it with 'royal icing', as that seemed rather apt, but was not going to go 'all out' with tradition and put the marzipan between the cake and topping. However, if you are going to do a job.....! "Don't ever go on a baking show!" said my daughter, as I used my hands to mould the almond paste onto the fruit cake. My hands were clean, but the method was somewhat unorthodox! I presented the office with an array of real English Christmas delights. Gingerbread men, chocolate Christmas puddings, and of course, a Christmas cake. I took some to Joe on Wednesday morning.
"I think it may be slightly overcooked, but I do think it is better than the traditional American fruit cake", I said, putting in the disclaimer before setting it down. "Doesn't take much to be better than the American fruit cake", said one of his roasters, who then realised this was not a compliment! "Wow, what is this frosting?" he said. I explained it was 'royal', and pronounced the word giving each vowel it's own zip code! "Very English", said Joe. "I am surprised he (as Joe referred to my husband,) has not gotten you to spake like a real 'Merican yet!" I smiled. "Fourteen years, and counting, and still producing royal icing!" Fourteen years on and I am still slightly wary of the fact that using the word 'he' or 'she' when referring to another person, be they there or not, is not considered rude! The first time Dana and a friend were talking and referred to me as 'she' as I was sitting there, I became quite offended. The didn't know why, until I explained that it is not a polite way to refer to a third person in England!
I had occasion to call the post office help desk, again, on Thursday. "Um, and where did you mail this from?" came the question. "Oh, I thought that you were sending it from overseas." Please do not say Australia! "Where y'all from?" All of me is still from England. So, Austin. Do you like it there. You haven't got a Texas accent." Silence after my answer, and then "Yep, always wanted to go to Scotland. My family are from there, and Ireland. I would love to visit. Wouldn't mind going to England." I then asked the question that always causes a little bit of confusion, and throw Wales into the mix. "Is that in Scotland?" Thankfully, the last comment was followed with, "I have found your package!" I did not think it was lost, or at least hoped it was not lost, but this letter has been 'snake bit', to coin a phrase. I explained that the letter was first sent in August, by certified mail, mislaid by the facility, after an attempt was made to deliver, and so I had to send out another letter, due to the inability to lay blame at anyone's door! It was not blame I was looking to have laid at anyone's door, it was a letter! However, I continued. It had been sent out again and they attempted to deliver it to a business at 7:30 p.m. I realised this was New York City, but surely the postman knew the route well enough to know not to deliver so late. "Well, they get a lot of mail and sometimes they just can't get round in time". So what was wrong with the next day? "Oh the next day was....". The silence allowed me to interrupt. "Nope. Day of mourning was on the 5th. What happened to the 4th?" Silence. "And the 6th and the 7th?" I explained that I knew it was not her fault and she was not responsible for the postal carriers, but surely common sense should prevail, and that when the access to the second floor suite is through a bank, the doors will close at five! I waited. "I just love your accent. How long have you been in Austin?" Seriously! However, after a moment's silence, and a heavy sigh, she had to agree. She would make sure that the package was rescheduled for delivery.
Thursday was possibly the busiest day of the entire year. Everyone wanted papers served before the close of business! Perhaps having lived for over four decades in a small country, that is connected to other small countries, has allowed me to be more aware of time zones. If we were travelling at anytime, to another country, outside the two adjoining small countries, or to any of the members of the United Kingdom, we knew there could be a time difference. It appears that some people in this enormous continent are unaware of such a thing. "We need this served today in New York City", said the caller at a little after four thirty. "Give it to the postman, he will try it!" I told Dana when he tried to explain that there was an hour time difference, not in their favour! "Really", came the reply from both Dana and the client!
I was so happy when Friday came around. I know it is not good to wish one's life away, but sometimes the weekend, no matter how short, cannot come quickly enough. However, the week was not yet over and the call from the post office in New York City just sealed the deal! "Did you get your package?" said the person on the other end of the phone. "What package?", I said, wondering who was calling. "I am calling from the post office. Did you get it?" I asked from which post office he was calling. "Your local post office on (and I missed the street) in New York City." His voice started to show signs of impatience and the volume was rising as he was talking. "My local post office is in Austin, Texas", I replied, very calmly. "Oh. Austin? Texas?" I waited, but nothing more was said. "You have my package to be delivered", I said, still very calmly. He asked me for a tracking number and told me to hold. I was told that my package would be redelivered that day! I did not ask him if he could not tell, by my accent, that I was not a native New Yorker! It may have been a little over the top!
"Fourteen years, and you still haven't lost your accent?" said the young girl at the counter on Saturday. "My nan was from Britain, and she never lost her accent". I did not ask whereabouts, or what part. I thought it best not to. I doubted it was from Wales! We had a busy day on Saturday, and went from store to store as quickly as we could. "Noodles. As in Raman?" I asked Samantha when she told me her requirements upon entering Walmart. "What is wrong with you. Can't you understand English? Needles!" came the answer. Oh no! Was I losing my ability to comprehend my own language? I barely understand the language here, and now may own is becoming alien! I panicked for a second, but not longer!
"Where y'all from?" Well there were two of us, and it made more sense. "North West of London", we said in unison, as Elton John started to 'step into Christmas'. "Not far from this guy", I added. "California?" Oh dear!
England's 'green and pleasant' is beckoning as we head full pelt into the last week before the holidays, and my fellow countrymen are still dominating the airwaves, with of course the exception of Lou Monte, who always makes me dance along with Dominic the Donkey. (Hew Haw!) Even Bing Crosby duets with our very own David Bowie!
I shall be heading back to where I am all from. All of me is going to head home for the holidays, to where it began for all of me . I shall look forward to the challenge of another week in Austin, and then onwards and upwards to..... another story!
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