When I started to approach Anthony for a photograph I realised that I'd taken his photo already earlier in the week. The interaction went a little something like this:
"Hello, can I...Oh! Hi, I think I took your photo on Friday."
"Or maybe I didn't? Remember by the pillar?"
"It wasn't you in the leather jacket and cords?"
"Ok, obviously not. Could I take a quick photo of you for my street style blog?"
Silence...."I'm sorry. I'm French. I don't know what you just said"
It was then that I realised I'd forgotten to slow the usual rapid-fire-speak common in the West of Scotland. I'd spoken so quickly and with such a thick accent that Henry hadn't understood a word. Turns out it wasn't even him I'd photographed. Interacting with people in London, I am more aware than anywhere else of my Scottish accent, but it seemed to slip my mind on this ocassion.