The wonderful Spinetingler magazine publishes my humorous essay, Grunt goes to Canada, about the travails of emigrating to Canada from Scotland at the awkward age of thirteen. You can read it http://www.spinetinglermag.com/2010/08/03/grant-mckenzie-grunt-goes...
It begins:


It was likely the strong, undiluted accent, but it could have been shyness or the overwhelming heaviness of being suddenly different.

Whatever it was, to their Canadian ears, my name sounded like Grunt.

You can imagine the laughter — and the sound effects.

There I was, as Scottish as can be: orange hair so bright it practically glowed, the McKenzie nose, freckles (masses of them since it was a hot summer) and the pale white skin that comes after painful lessons learned on the sandy beaches of Troon.

Most people believe there shouldn’t be any language barriers when one emigrates between English-speaking countries, but they’re wrong.

This was 1976. I was thirteen years old. And I didn’t speak English, I spoke Glaswegian with an East Kilbridian burr.

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