Metroblog

A one-time school project gone terribly, terribly wrong.

14 December 2006

Runcible Behaviour

In my earlier posting I mentioned that one of the weird things about me is that I have an accent that adapts to every situation.

Raincoaster claims that I gave my wedding vows in an "Anglo-Aussie accent."

Others say they hear some sort of received English accent when I read aloud. This is more plausible. My father was born in an area where the local accent is incomprehensible to many, even within their own country. His brother still speaks with a broad Lancastrian accent. My father, who went to university, seems to have had it ironed out.

Last night my father's annual Yule letter arrived. It's a two-sided page concerning the family. About one-third of it has to do with his grand-kids these days, possibly because he's spending only about one-third of his time in Canada.

I read it through, with certain selections aloud to Mme Metro. When I was done I popped into the living room and stood a moment in puzzlement. Discovering that I'd forgotten what it was I meant to do, I turned around and went down the hall. From behind me came merry peals of laughter.

My interest piqued, I went back. My face must have asked the question for me:

"Do you know," quoth Mme Metro, "that you're walking just like your father?"

Since I sometimes think in the privacy of my own head that my father walks a bit like Chaplin in colour, I protested.

"My back's out!"

But she continued laughing.

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