"Thats a nice accent. Is it Russian?"
As soon as I'd said it, I knew I'd made a mistake. The temperature of the room dropped several degrees.
"No" said L "Is Latvian"
Her expression implied that I might just as well have suggested her grandfather sticks hamsters up his bottom. Accusing Canadians of having a US accent was a walk in the park compared to this.
L, you see, is Latvian. Something I didn't really pick up until actually talking to her. A mobile phone conversation revealed the thick accent and images of Russian shot-putters swam through my mind. However, L is in actual fact a far better specimen of the female of the species than I am of the male.
She explained: "I do not like handsome men. They think too much of themselves."
I replied "Oh" in a small voice.
And of course, there's the accent. I'm a sucker for English spoken with an accent. I wonder if its too early in the relationship to ask her to tie me to a chair and read poetry to me?
1 down, 3 to go.
(And for the cynics out there, have no fear; my passport is under lock and key)
