Talking the talk with the Londoners

Chrissy and I just returned from our journey to Covent Garden in search of delicous and inexpensive greek food. The mission was moderately successful but exhausting as I am already running on little sleep from last night. I decided that now would be a good time for a power nap.

Unfortuantely it seems I'm not on the same page as the rest of the Gubbay Hall residents. Some anonymous british guys seem to have decided now would be a good time for laughter and lively conversation outside my window, making it impossible for me to execute my original plan. An honest mistake on their part, yes, but I'm afraid that these kind of mishaps will reoccur if certain individuals continues making decisions without my consent. Frustrating to say the least.

However having no other choice but to listen to their banter (entertaining though sometimes indistinguishable) made me think about the pathetic state of the authentic British accent I planned to develope during my stay here. I have yet to really nail it and I'm running out of time! I can genuinely say I've improved––no longer mimicking the proper Queen's english that Americans imagine but instead acknowledging the regional differences that exist from borough to borough, but still, I am definitely no expert.

My friend Steve, an East Londoner, spelled out some of the local dialect for me and made it a lot easier for me to identify the patterns. For instance, East Londoners don't pronounce their T's, replace their TH's with F or V and add R's in places I still don't understand. And of course they use dozens of unique expressions that I must admit are sort of catchy.

SO! Lets try it, shall we? Now if I was talking about my little brother Anthony and say, assessing his atheltic abilities I might say "My little brother is wicked fast. Hes talented but a sort of jerk."

But in London I would say "My li'l brovah is quite farst. 'Ees got loads of talent but 'ees a bi' of a prick."

But I probably wouldn't say that either, cause I think Anthony is probably sort of slow and definitely not a jerk. Sorry Brotha Man! I miss you very much.

If Steve or any other local were to hear me or at least read this, they would probably make fun of me for a long time. But they might call it "having a bubble" which is cockney rhyming slang for having a laugh. Look it up.

Ok, so theres room for improvement. I'll work on it––after I get a nap in. 15 minutes! Thats all I ask!