It would make more sense if I started to mimic his gravelly Scottish bark before he said, ‘Ahm gonnae bite yer fookin noze off pal’ but I’m really not sure I did. It’s all a bit muddled and muddied in my head- I was drunk, he was drunk, this happened a couple of weeks ago now- but I’m pretty sure the timeline was:
I was getting drunk,
(He was probably getting drunk too, somewhere else in the very same bar [the Underbelly bar at the top of Victoria Street or the middle of the Cowgate, depending on which way you take on the place]),
He and I came to occupy adjacent spaces,
He said ‘Ahm gonnae bite yer fookin noze off pal’,
I started to mimic, parrot, if you will, his Scottish accent.
That’s better, now I’ve got it set down somewhere.
It’s a funny thing living in a different country and then returning home. Cars move quicker on the M25 then they do anywhere in Japan. And it’s a fucking big road too. Suddenly you get a real kick out of daily interaction with strangers, even if it’s just something like asking in a pub where the lav is. You want to hug people a lot more.
And also you start noticing all the habits you’ve picked up that don’t quite sit so well at home. Nobody bows to say thank you in Britain! And it seems mimicking accents and everything you hear is another skill I’ve picked up along the way, like a like a beer trophy on a big night out.
Not that it didn’t work out alright. He didn’t bite my nose off. He kissed me on the side of the head instead.
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