I ain't wearing no anorak again

I've started dropping the word "ain't" into conversation by mistake. I think it's part of my overwhelming longing to fit in; I've had that affliction since I first realised I was a ginger when I was 3 years old.

Back in Reykjavik, I'm always mistaken for a native. Until I open my mouth, that is. Or at least until I walk down the main shopping street in my weather-proof anorak.