People who have had a chance to speak with me on any kind of regular basis probably know that I like silly voices and accents. I've been a mimic since I was little, parroting weird expressions as soon as I heard them. I managed to get this aspect of the process under control before I ever got beat up for it.

     When I was younger, I thought I was quite brilliant at this sort of thing. As I grew older I decided that I was good at it but probably couldn't fool someone that actually had the accent I was mimicking. I figured my British accent would sound to British ears like most British people sound when they mimic Americans: off.

     When I'm at Irish Fest, the Irish accent kicks in instinctively. Once it or any other voice gets a firm hold on my speech patterns, it's very hard to shake off and return to normal sounding speech. Add beer and this return to normal becomes nearly impossible. By ten o clock Friday night at Irish Fest, I don't think my speech made sense to anyone around me due to the thickness of the accent I was using and the speed at which I was speaking. It's very possible that Katy and Eric understood me but it's just as likely that they were humouring me. They know I'm not well in the head.

     About this time we had to sit down and let young Colin feed. Out came the bottle and he patiently ate. On the other side of the table was another group of people that also had a young lad with them, only about two weeks younger (maybe older) than Colin. We had conversations that were separate, would mingle briefly and then spilt apart again. It was quite fun.

     The whole time my accent is totally out of control. After a long burst of gibberish from me, the young lad next to me just started staring at me, a totally logical act under the circumstances. His dad smiled and noted "I think he likes your accent."

    I smiled and shrugged my shoulders broadly. "And it's fake." I noted.

     Everyone laughed and that's what was most important to me.