Swedish Girl In London

London Life: Bright Lights, Big City. Now what's on TV?

Friday, December 02, 2005

Perhaps It's Just A Cold

Something peculiar appears to have happened to my voice. I know this because when I bought my shameful gingerbread latte this morning, the cheery French guy behind the counter asked me:

“What’s happened to your voice?”

This – though surely kindly meant – was a bit disconcerting, because up to that point I had wandered about in the delusion that my voice sounded quite normal: perhaps a bit like Goofy on happy pills, but nothing that would elicit comments from random French baristas.

“Nothing”, I squeaked, cleared my voice and repeated: “Nothing.”

The French guy didn’t look convinced and I bolted with my latte. Then at the office, a colleague winked meaningfully at me and asked:

”You came straight here from the club, didn’t you?”

“No,” I croaked.

"Sure you have," he said. "It sounds like I should phone a very expensive phone number to hear that sort of voice."

I’m not sure what is going on here, but I quite like this newfound huskiness.


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