Yesterday my daughter assigned me the task of making sure that her groom and groomsmen arrived to the wedding on time. So I was hanging about as they finished getting ready, and had a good 15 minutes to listen to the lads chatter with one another. I’d say I got about 3/5ths of the words. I was mostly able to follow the gist, but not always.
And, of course, being a fly on the wall among a bunch of groomsmen, who have been mates since they were wee lads, as they cut up and needle one another is a helluva lot of fun. At one point I turned to my brother, who I had deputized for the task and kicks a proper Chicago accent, and asked whether he could follow what was being said. He smiled broadly, shook his head from side to side, and said “Not really.”
That evening, when the best man (pictured above, accepting the ring) from Luke’s nephew and sister, have his speech, the yanks in attendance were pretty well lost. That said, I absolutely adore the way that Luke says my daughter’s name: Kevy (which I will not try to spell phonetically–you’ll have to use your imagination!).
For those of you unfamiliar with the Yorkshire accent, check out Eve Miller being interviewed by her dad: