I now officially speak Englican. Or Americish. This past weekend Steven & I went to Salisbury, accompanied by Kath. We took the train down from Waterloo station, dropped our bags at the Red Lion hotel, and proceeded to walk out of town toward Stonehenge. We walked. And walked. And walked and walked and walked. Then we had some lunch, followed by even more walking. And then we walked some more. We finally arrived at a lovely spot from which we could see the stones in the distance (just beyond a busy motorway) and decided to save a couple of kilometers by heading straight into the nearest town, where we downed a well-deserved pint and hailed a taxi back to Salisbury. We shall return some time to see the henge up close, or maybe just pay a visit to another
site where one can actually touch some prehistoric rocks.
But I digress. At dinner, which was
Indian and probably up there with the top ten meals of all time, we were discussing food (as one does). I was describing something Steven & I had eaten in Palermo when we were there a few weeks ago. First of all, I said “aubergine” when I meant “courgette”. Do you see where this is going? Let me remind you: I was there with
Steven and
Kath, who despite both having recently earned British citizenship, are, in fact, American. To me, speaking British English when not absolutely necessary represents the line, and speaking it in the exclusive company of fellow Americans is crossing it.
Yes, yes, I said I’d never do it, and now I have. So there you go.
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