So Sunday afternoon, I had my most embarrassing moment to date in Bermuda. I went to play doubles in a tournament at the Stadium courts in Hamilton. I checked in and the man there said, “Coolman? Is Turner Coolman your father?” and I said “No.” and then he went on about good old Turner Coolman’s knee operation – which sounded suspiciously like my father-in-law’s. Well, I later said my husband was Paul Coleman and that’s when I knew I’d made my mistake. This man had a heavy Bermudian accent and he’d been saying Tony Coleman. We tried to pass it off as a misunderstanding between Anthony and Tony Coleman – that must have been it – he’s Anthony to me – but he’s not. He’s Tony and stupidly I told this man I’d misheard him. That sank like a lead balloon. Almost like forgetting to say “Good Afternoon” and saying “Hello” instead.
I’ve lived here eight months now. When am I going to understand that accent?!
