Leander, TX.
We’ve got a vendor that we’ve been working with, and due to the nature of my job, I can’t be bothered to ask him what his sign is. So far, he’s offered me beer and soda, and his “associate” spends an inordinate amount of time on the cell phone while bidding on the job.
But this one guy, I was intrigued by his accent. First time he rolled through my other office, I asked him where he was from.
“Oi. I live in Leander. That’s where I’m from.”
I knew it was a British-tinged accent. I wasn’t quite sure from where, tough. Midlands? Not Wales, that was for sure. Not Scottish, either. Nor was it Irish.
I pressed the point, though, undaunted in my search for truth. I finally got an answer, Australia.
Sydney, to be precise. Reckon he’s been here long enough to establish himself, big truck, cooler of beer in the back, yes, and unlike most local plumbers, he keeps his britches cinched up.
