I have in the decade-and-a-bit since I left the city in which I was born been mistaken for Irish (a lot), Indian (casual racism in the general direction of call centre staff, which was my old job), “from New England” (by a Canadian), and Scandinavian (yesterday).
Occasionally, someone gets it right. For example, when, as is usual for me these days, we have been talking at some length about their cancer.
Beth: Your bloods all look quite good, and…
Patient: *develops fit of giggles*
Patient: Oh, gosh, I am sorry, but it’s like I’m talking to Sarah Millican.
In which I am minding my own business as I dictate letters and inhale coffee.
Nurse: Oh, excellent! Oh, I just saw you there, Doctor, and I was reminded of sputum!