Canada Day in Manchester

“Is it Canada Day today?” I was asked as we looked up at where in the world the rain was coming from. It was blue sky up there. 

“You know I think it is. I didn’t even realize.” Everyone is too busy with their football or fall out from the recent referendum myself included. I haven’t talked to a Canadian (Ba(r)b’s excluded) in a long time. I’m talking about a canadian in the wild on these shores. 

“Happy Canada Day!” As we clunked our pint glasses together halfway under the ledge up above us so that we wouldn’t get drizzled on by the rain. It’s the kind of rain that’s annoying because it’s not that heavy and it won’t stay around. That’s when we saw the rainbow again. It was a constant theme. 

I was in the middle of conveying the series of events and where they will take place over the next six months or so. There are gaps in the plans but there are also firm commitments. The gaps will have to fill in around the pillars. 

It was a different set of pubs that we visited this time. The Unicorn was a pub’s pub. A real Mancurian place that “was probably around when you started going out drinking.”

“You’re probably right.” 

It had that olde style to it with a clientele to boot. The wench (colorful British term for a British female bartender)  behind the bar winked at me as I waited for my turn to order. The guy whose birthday it was asked me:

“Where did your smile go?”

“It’s just taking a rest.” I replied to him. He laughed and said.

“It’s my birthday. Everyone should be smiling on my birthday!” As he wavered on his feet eyes half shut. He has obviously consumed a few already. He wondered off shouting something to his friends. The Wales Belgum game came on and we found a corner of a passage way where we could see the first goal scored. It was a beautiful shot from outside the box. There was a strange group of characters that passed in and out of this place. 

We watched the tying goal as we sipped on our last pint of the night and experienced the commotion of the tying goal by Wales. M was telling me about his colleagues telling him about the new guy. The guy was responsible for maintenance of some kind of equipment that M just happened to need servicing. 

“That guy has a funny accent but his English is pretty good!” They told him. It turns out that the guy was a Canadian. 

“He spoke perfect English.” 

I was telling M at how I feel that my accent is kind of exotic to the British public. There is a lot of attention paid to how one sounds when one speaks. A lot of that comes from the patients that I talk to. They are older and I tend to use a calming tone when I speak to alleviate their anxiety.  

We laughed at the silliness of it. How language spoken with a different tone and inflection but with perfect grammar makes it sound so foreign. This event happened in Doncaster or something like that “deep in the Leave territory.”

We made plans for my birthday as it was also time to go. M had enough time to get home and watch the end of the Belgium Wales game. In another shock they went on to win 3-1! I heard some screams inside Picadilly station as I ate some post drinking food. After getting off the train I then made another stop at Americas greatest culinary export joint. It was worth it. 

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