A matter of accent.

Honestly, even if I record me, I'm not sure if I'm able to tell what the hell of an accent I got.

Clearly, must sound foreign. 

Each time I open my mouth with someone new, the question "where are you from" comes out.

I've been told a lot of nationalities and (fortunally) Italian has never been mentioned.

Scandinavian, French, Dutch, American, an old drinking-friend and my auctioneer say I'm getting the Wicklow accent but... weirdest of all...

Today, a regular customer told me I speak like a Dubliner.

WTF???

I swear, I don't frequent any Dubliner. There are no Dubliners at work. I don't know about any customer from there.

What I simply do is carefully listening to my co-workers (the most of them from Wicklow), Chef (who's Welsh, his accent deserves an award) and (surprise surprise) British shows (speak like Tim Roth and I'm gonna marry you!) and I try to repeat the same sound.

But, seriously, even if I spend 10 years trying over and over again, after 39 speaking Italian as first language, I won't ever, ever, ever be able to speak with that lovely London accent.

I just can say I coined my personal one: The Claire's Accent.

Off the World.

This morning I was having my usual break, mug on hand, crunching butter cookies and one eye at Sky Sport News.

I must live out of the world because just today I realised the World Cup 2014 will be placed in Brazil. 

I know, if Jay could, he would slap me on the back of my neck. He's so into sport stuff. 

Sorry, Luv, if we were in touch as before, I'd probably have known it a bit earlier than the 3rd December 2013 :P

Anyway, suddenly all the news I read before about disorders in that country on the cost of tickets make sense now. 

Italy and Brazil are so similar about football. The World Cup is the only event that make Italian people patriotic. It's the only time, every 4 years, you can see the tricolour flag everywhere: roofs, balconies, cars, shoulders. It's perfect if you have to get home after work during a match in 1/3 of the "normal" time cos nobody is on the road. They're all with their noses tacked on telly.

Ha, the World Cup.

Let's hope France won't be helped again against Ireland from some gobshite referee as it happened the last time.

Now, pardon me, I have to press the flag.