So it’s the 80s and I’m on the train heading to Washington from New York and I join the queue in the diner.
I suddenly realise there’s a couple of guys who after I guess a few alcoholic libations are pairing off people in the queue. Their attention falls on me and they loudly pair me off with a woman next to me in the queue with the phrase ‘The Australian guy …..’
The woman sees my puzzled expression and kindly tries to reassure me by saying ‘It’s because of Crocodile Dundee, they assume that if you don’t have an American accent you must be Australian even if you are English.’
This is a decisive moment as I’m aware of Americans desire to claim European heritage so in the same vein, I say: ‘Actually I’m Welsh!’ Her eyes light up with joy and she says ‘Me,too!’ Stunned I say ‘Oh!’ not sure what would be a more appropriate response. ‘Yes’ she continues, ‘My surname is Llewelyn- McTavish!’ A little confused, I respond ‘So half Welsh half Scottish?’ Nothing in the world would have prepared me for the reply, which was ‘It’s McTavish spelled the Welsh way!’
As you can probably imagine, I was, unusually, lost for words. Should I destroy this woman’s belief in her Celtic origins, or should I just smile? I took the latter route. Why ruin her dreams?
rowlandwithaw 