Last year, a friend of mine discovered that my parents never learned English despite moving to England in 1969.
He raised a brow in askance. “But you speak it so well,” he said, a cheeky smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he lampooned those who had oh-so-magnanimously paid me the same compliment in the past.
He, a British-born Asian like me, knew there was no reason for me not to speak English well. After all, I was born, raised and educated in England.
Perhaps I shouldn’t be snarky about the compliment. After all, English is my second language despite the fact that I write, think and dream in it (and only it). Continue reading