i saw the signs of my undoing
i've got a mug with the dregs of a pot of ginger tea rolling between my two hands, and an open book on my lap. i keep catching whiffs of the bubble bath i used after work this evening- a ginger lime combination- that is bringing back memories of kent street and ottawa.
today at work, i had a five minute conversation with a man trying to convince him that i was not from antigonish. he swore- up and down his mother, apparently- that i was from across the harbour, based on my accent. this is not the first time this has happened. in fact, were i to believe what people have told me regarding my 'accent' i am not only from antigonish, but also conception bay, new waterford, sydney, possible charlottetown, and, if one of my university professors is to be believed, i'm a recent immigrant from right across the ocean, possibly wales, to be specific.
i've yet to be convinced that i actually speak with any kind of accent other than one influenced by the peninsula and, perhaps, the fact that until i was nine i couldn't pronounce the letter s. however, since this is a semi-regular occurrence, perhaps i ought to think about checking out all of my supposed hometowns just to see if i really have an affected form of pronunciation.
i'm more fond of the idea that my east coast accent is simply the salty goodness of the ocean manifesting itself. because that gentleman today- and others in the past- have said that hearing me sounds just like their childhood come to life.
i like the way it makes people smile.