I had been looking forward to practicing my post Brittish accent all week. Everyone I met in the north had very much fun over the way I pronounced Baaaaath, so many conversations went something like this:
“So where are you going next?”
“First up is Manchester, and then I’m going to Bath.”
“Baaaaaath.”

This, I felt, would be a good place to finally be able to use my “how do you do.” And then I missed my chance. The very nice and charmingly elegant woman running the small hotel I stayed at would definitely have responded in kind, if I hadn’t been som distracted as to just say: “Nice to meet you.”

Oh well. Next time perhaps.

My first meeting with the nice hotel woman didn’t go entirely smoothly.
“Are you in town for the marathon, then?” she said and barely recognized my look of horror.
“I certainl am not”, I replied with great dignity. “I’m in town for Toppings and Mr B:s Emporium of Reading Delights. And Jane Austen, of course.”