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You know that bit in Love Actually when Colin or Nick or whatever his name is says that he was born on the wrong continent and every woman in America would instantly melt on so much as hearing his accent? It's one hundred percent true. When I was down the road at the local burrito place getting lunch, I made the mistake of saying "to take away" instead of "to go" and was then stuck there for about ten minutes while every female in the establishment quizzed me about what else people say differently in Scotland, how "cute" they thought my accent was, how "homey" it is where I come from, and so on and so forth.
I should probably be appreciative, because for someone who had a hard time all throughout school because of his silly Bristolian-posh Scottish hybridized voice, it makes a welcome change for people to be fascinated by it. But I'm not sure how comfortable I am with the word "cute". This is cute. (Warning: possible overdose.) But I'm a twenty-two year old computer science type and I don't think the same term really applies to me. My newly discovered instant charm would be far better granted to someone who was not already attached, but at least I can offer advice to other single men now. Come to America. And bring a guitar, that always helps.
Even though I write regularly about how rubbish American food is in general, I've actually got quite into burritos for lunch (at least, I certainly will if Boloco keep handing me $1 vouchers) and that's not something that you tend to get in Britain at all. They seem less tragically white and nerdy than sandwiches, if nothing else.
It's absolutely freezing today and I cannot feel my hands at all even though they were in gloves for the five-minute walk down the road. I walk up a narrow drive between two buildings on my way to the train station, and facing into the wind was excruciatingly painful. This is no joke - I could actually feel my eyes close to freezing up, and had to walk with them closed for most of the way. When I went out for lunch I managed to arrange my jacket and sunglasses so that I could breathe up into my eyes and warm them up again, but with the side effect of steaming my sunglasses, and walking became a struggle to achieve a balance between not dying and not finding myself in Porter Square by mistake. I went on to the local part of Weather.com to get the temperature for you, but the front page immediately had instructions for preventing deadly wind chill and what to do about frostbite, so that's all you need to know.
And as chance would have it, we had a fire alarm in the afternoon so we were all stuck in the freezing cold while firemen went around the building with exactly the same speed and efficiency that I always witnessed during the mornings outside Melville.
I should probably be appreciative, because for someone who had a hard time all throughout school because of his silly Bristolian-posh Scottish hybridized voice, it makes a welcome change for people to be fascinated by it. But I'm not sure how comfortable I am with the word "cute". This is cute. (Warning: possible overdose.) But I'm a twenty-two year old computer science type and I don't think the same term really applies to me. My newly discovered instant charm would be far better granted to someone who was not already attached, but at least I can offer advice to other single men now. Come to America. And bring a guitar, that always helps.
Even though I write regularly about how rubbish American food is in general, I've actually got quite into burritos for lunch (at least, I certainly will if Boloco keep handing me $1 vouchers) and that's not something that you tend to get in Britain at all. They seem less tragically white and nerdy than sandwiches, if nothing else.
It's absolutely freezing today and I cannot feel my hands at all even though they were in gloves for the five-minute walk down the road. I walk up a narrow drive between two buildings on my way to the train station, and facing into the wind was excruciatingly painful. This is no joke - I could actually feel my eyes close to freezing up, and had to walk with them closed for most of the way. When I went out for lunch I managed to arrange my jacket and sunglasses so that I could breathe up into my eyes and warm them up again, but with the side effect of steaming my sunglasses, and walking became a struggle to achieve a balance between not dying and not finding myself in Porter Square by mistake. I went on to the local part of Weather.com to get the temperature for you, but the front page immediately had instructions for preventing deadly wind chill and what to do about frostbite, so that's all you need to know.
And as chance would have it, we had a fire alarm in the afternoon so we were all stuck in the freezing cold while firemen went around the building with exactly the same speed and efficiency that I always witnessed during the mornings outside Melville.
