More of a quick note than a blog, this. I’ve just spent a few days down in Dorset, relaxing, gaming, writing, plotting, planning and cooking. Mostly relaxing. Sitting on a bench by the back door with a bottle of good beer or a glass of Pimms, watching the sun set over the hill and the spotlights illuminate the church and the absolute silence of The Middle of Nowhere, West Dorset at night. It’s pretty glorious.

I did a bit of striding over the hills and dales – just the one hill, actually, but quite steep in places, especially when you’re coming back with a rucksack full of shopping (read: bread, meat and cider) and a baguette sticking comically out of the top. I did a certain amount of pottering about in the garden. I played this game I quite often play when I’m on my own, which is to put on certain accents when I talk to people (in shops, etc) just for the hell of it. I’m pleased to say I managed to perfect a South African/White Afrikaner accent over the course of the week. The key is in certain words and phrases that trick you into the accent, then holding it. In the South African accent case, it’s the way you pronounce ‘tr’, as in ‘country’; there’s a roll to it that flicks the switch. I can add that one to the repertoire, alongside two kinds of Irish, a moderate Glaswegian, Generic European versions 1, 2 and 3, various forms of American (South-east, Midwest, Brooklyn and New Hampshire – the differences are fascinating in themselves) and a Kiwi accent that I’ll probably keep under wraps, to save my cousins from NZ the trouble of rolling about on the floor laughing.

That self-deprecatingly said, I’m actually very good at accents. Very good. It’s one of those stupid, not-really-useful things I’ve picked up, like how to pass exams and almost win pub quizzes. Given a passage of, say, Spanish or Italian in writing, I can read it and sound like a native, but I’ll only have the faintest idea of what I’m saying. That’s the next step.

Preparations go well. I actually booked my flights to Bolivia – leaving on the 30th of October. It’s later than I wanted, but the difference between the middle of next week and the end of the month was nearly £150, so no real complaints.  I’m also looking at a hostel with a microbrewery on the roof. Yes, a microbrewery, on the roof. And a free beer every day, apparently. Swish.

It’s one of those oddities about being my age. I’ve had two or three chances in my life so far to completely reinvent myself – this will be another. Like starting college, or Uni, I get to turn up in a strange place, meet a bunch of strange people, and make another construct of myself to be to them. I’ll be in the lives of some people in La Paz for three months, and in that time I can literally be whoever the hell I like.

On an unconnected note, I’ve just come into posession of a battered leather bush hat and a pair of aviators with dark green lenses. Good start.

M.

Advertisement