I was in Buxton recently, it was my first time in the town and in Derbyshire. One Englishman-turned-Canadian didn’t hear a trace of foreign accent in my English, so he was genuinely surprised to hear that I wasn’t originally from the UK.
A couple of other people were able to spot some “foreigness” but certainly didn’t trace it all the way back to Russia.
I’ll be hitting the first “round” birthday this December, but most people who meet me think I’m 22 or 24. Which is great, of course… as long as they don’t assume that my mental age and experience are those of a 22-year-old.
And still even a larger number of people think I am French. This has to do primarily with dress sense, as it seems. Apparently, if you dress distinctly and in style, with statement accessories, in classy leather, you’ve got to be from Paris. So, the goal for me is to go to Paris to see how many French people would take me for their compatriot. For all I know, they’ll be thinking I’m from New York.
Jokes aside, I’ve recently realised two things. One, I’ve spent all of my twenties in England. I met my late English husband in 2000, visited the country for the first time in 2002, and since 2003 I’ve been living in the UK without travelling anywhere, except within the country. So, out of nearly thirty years I’ve spent (roughly) 20 in one country and 10 in another. The goal is to make sure that the next 10 years are spent in travelling worldwide, so by the time I’m 40 I can confidently choose the place “to settle down” (and continue travelling).
Two, everyone asks me what made me come to Manchester. They don’t usually know the story, so the question is correct from their side. For me, though, the question is different, and this downed on me in Buxton. It’s “what made me stay in Manchester“, for sure. And if I’m honest with myself, then I must admit that at times I was too inert and didn’t take enough control of events in my life. I didn’t always listen to what intuition told me; I tried to win the battles that were not worth fighting; and little by little all the above began to make me feel helpless. After all, it’s hard to carry the whole world on your shoulders.
I know it’s changing, and it is amazing just how far and how rapidly you can go when you commit to your vision. I’m currently sitting in the living room in a big house, in pleasant and peaceful silence (although I’ve just finished listening to Dire Straights’ “Sultans of Swing“). It’s my day-off, and I’m doing what I want to be doing. I walk home from work which takes me 45 mins; the area is leafy and calm, there’s a park nearby where I should be going for a walk with my friends tonight; two of the people from the house went to celebrate the Summer Solstice at Stonehenge on Monday. The river is flowing just outside the house, and everything feels bright…