At our tower blocks' security office this morning.
Q: Are you from French country?
A: ([unfairly] somewhat tersely) No. England.
Q: (concentrates, frowns) Which country?
A: (firmly and distinctly tersely) England.
Q: (warm smile) Good!
Oddly everyone seems to think I have a French accent suddenly.
Admittedly, my accent may perhaps have had some modifications to it after over ten years living overseas but I fail to see how it has in any way headed in a Gallic direction.
I have become accustomed to being asked if I am Irish in Finland (the assumption being that if you are ginger-haired, you are most likely Irish; for some reason the equally valid Scottish link is quite absent). That has never bothered me and, while I harbour none of the traditional dislike towards the French (in fact, quite the opposite), this has somehow got under my skin. (Hence the uncharacteristically rapid decent into a short-tempered dialogue.)
Sacrebleu!
