By rights this should probably be about excuses. And I must make my own excuses for not managing to stick to my challenge of one blog a week…but it’s been a busy few weeks.

What with having to come back early from Cape Town (with six deathly dull hours in Dubai – there’s only so many times you can walk to the smoking area without strangers remarking on the number of ciggies you’ve inhaled) to whizz over to London for an interview before Christmas…you can forgive me for being a bit preoccupied.

Thankfully the trek paid off and I will be heading off to England next week.

London, England to be more precise.

But that’s not the topic of this blog…it is about the English language. A lingo that I thought I had down pat – that is until I went to university in Durham.

And quickly discovered that not only was I going to have to tackle German, I was also going to have to relearn English.

Newtownards English, it soon became clear, would not suffice if I was going to make friends – and while the lingua franca was not RP or the Queen’s English, I would have to try and make the harsh eights and the hoy noy broywn cows a bit easier on the ear.

If only I’d just polished the edges – rather than veering so far away from my normal accent. In the end I sounded less like the queen and more like a banjaxed BBC presenter who’s gone deaf and is learning how to speak again.

This time I’m going to resist the urge to speak LOUDER and s l o w e r. I will not try and resemble any member of the royal family – in word or deeds.

I can’t promise that the move won’t change anything else…but this I know – my English will remain of the hoy noy broywn coy variety.