Thass loike I saay ... teark loife as 't come

Some things happen one day and are gone from memory the next.  Others stay for decades, as bright and fresh (or so I believe!) as the day they happened.  One that came to mind the other day dates back to my first year of married life, and a dining-room incident while on holiday; another that I recalled the same day stems from my pre-school days, when my mother took me into the shop where, not five years previously, she would have been working in the days before her marriage.  A third recollection comes to mind even as I ponder narrating two incidents of the week just past.  

I'm something of a natural mimic.  When I was driving for a living, I had to be careful when delivering in another part of the country, not to lapse into the local accent.  Quite apart from the likelihood of 'not getting it quite right', there was always the possibility that someone would be offended if they thought I was taking the mickey at the way they talked.  One day I'd been given a job to the Newcastle area and by the time I'd gone the five miles to collect it, I was already muttering to myself 'in Geordie'!

I can't help wondering whether this ability bears some relationship to my delight in languages.  In my days at the local grammar school, I recall getting 98% for French in my first form examination.  In these days of possibly greater wisdom, I find myself being more careful about accents, and I only lapse into the broad tones of my youth on the Norfolk-Suffolk border when I'm among people with whom I'm completely at ease.

Two incidents this week have brought these things to mind.  On Sunday morning after the coffee and chatter that followed our Meeting for Worship, I said something to one of the elders as I was leaving in just that broad accent that I've described ... and realised what an indication that was of how 'at home' I feel in their company.

For the last few months I've been going most Thursdays to a community coffee morning in the town.  This week, instead of a simple quiz to tax our minds, we were asked to help wrap children's presents for Santa Claus to distribute when he comes along next month.  I had been cutting paper off a large roll to fit the books that others were wrapping. When the last of the paper sprang free from the tube within, I turned to the lady sitting next to me and, without thinking, imitated the accent I've been surrounded by for the last year and more as I commented. "Ah've coom to t'end o' t'roll; Ah'm goin' 'oom."

That was an example of the other aspect of my experiences.  I clearly had no fears about offending her ... although, in point of fact, she's only been here a few years herself, after moving up from Bristol, so it wasn't her accent I was imitating.  Instead, she was quite amused and possibly a bit surprised, since I'm usually quite quiet and restrained.

It all goes to show how well I've settled into a new pattern of life.  One aspect of this new shape to things is retiring to the lounge in the evening, and so I'm no longer tempted to carry on working at my desk until bedtime, as would often have been the case before I moved out of the flat.  Instead, I use my old laptop to watch a selection of You-Tube videos.  Two in particular, I find extremely relaxing.  

One is The Mindful Narrowboat, presented by a lady cruising the canal system with her dog.  She has an eye for nature and is also quite artistic, for each vlog ends with an 'over-the-shoulder' shot of her entry in a beautiful notebook, in which a poetic summary of the foregoing scenes accompanies coloured sketches of birds, animals or plants that she has noticed along the way. It's rather in the style of 'The Diary of an Edwardian Lady'.

The second video is called Linguoer Mechanic, this one featuring a young oriental lady.  The posts follow a common pattern, with no narrative at all.  She collects a rusty or corroded piece of machinery, dismantles it and cleans each part, before painting and rebuilding the whole, and finally demonstrating it working once more as it did when new.  I'm amazed how she knows what bit goes where!