Saturday, 29 October 2016

Scouseisms

I took it a bit easy yesterday, and only really cranked myself into gear at about midday, when I continued to work my way through Em, focussing on writing a lyric to a song called Delusion and diving deep into the dialogue of an old Irish woman who plays quite an important role in the piece. I'm a little out of depth when it comes to the linguistic authenticity of quite a number of the characters in the show. I'm particularly struggling with the Liverpool dialect. With Brass, the Yorkshire accent, its phrases and rhythms, came easy to me. I've been around Yorkshire folk regularly since I went to university and can do a passable accent when, as I like to do when writing, I speak the words aloud to myself. People in cafes must think I'm insane as I mutter away. I've learned to cover my mouth, but that must look just as bonkers. Anyway, I can't do a Liverpudlian accent, and can't get my head around Scouseisms, so I'm having to work very hard at getting that feeling authentic.

Nathan finished work earlier than usual last night, so we took ourselves off to the pizza shop for some of the ingredients we needed for an evening in front of the telly. I'm not sure what happened to the time. I made a fridge cake to welcome Llio back to London and Nathan spent the night trying to upload one of his podcasts so telly didn't really happen. The quality of our Broadband is astoundingly poor. We complain to Talk Talk on a three-monthly basis. Uploading is almost impossible because every time our unstable connection drops offline, the uploading fails and everything needs to start again. Nathan's hour-long podcasts take upwards of 12 hours to upload at the best of times, which expand into days when we drop off line.

We have signed up for high speed broadband, so are hoping, when that arrives in a couple of weeks, the problem will be solved, but the poor quality of what we have at the moment has been the cause of a disproportionate amount of frustration and misery.

Nathan went to bed early and I sat up watching clips of Dusty Springfield and Petula Clarke singing live at the BBC. Before I knew it I'd fallen asleep on the sofa and then, all of a sudden, it was dawn.

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