2:59 p.m.
/
24 June, 2004

I can't go to the graveyard anymore. There I was, checking out some graves further back and I was accosted by this woman. She's a member of the town council and wears her glasses on a chain round her neck, bobbed grey hair, you know the type. Anyway, she launches into this discussion with me about history and the people buried there, about how Queen Philippa was actually black, it was mind-boggling stuff, interesting and all, but she was a scary stranger. She also thought I was American or Canadian, I had to convince her I had lived on Sheppey all my life. Like she knew better than me.

Everyone always thinks I sound either American or Australian. Even my family take the piss out of my accent. It's like my handwriting, I unconsciously make it up as I go alon. Still, she acted as though I was lying... strange lady. So now I'm scared that I'm gonna bump into her again... She said that she hoped to see me again. God help me... and my Australian/American/Canadian accent.