Why are the British so beastly to Yanks?

I’m from Noo Yawk, Noo Yawk – so nice I have to say it twice.

Despite arriving in London over 15 years ago, I’ve retained my honking New York accent. And so I’ve come across some irksome preconceptions about Americans.

The first is the assumption of ignorance – delivered with a touch of condescension. On my first visit to the Oval, I was asked, ‘Do you know where you are?’ and ‘What are you doing here?’ whenever I spoke with my nasal twang.

I wouldn’t have known what was happening without Aggers’s ball-to-ball commentary. I had no idea you could rent an earpiece with Radio 5 Live pouring discreetly into your ear. Instead, I took along a food-spattered Roberts radio from my kitchen. I cradled it in my arms and had to hoist it each time someone pushed past to the bar.

I did redeem myself by packing an enviable four-course picnic – a meal Americans excel at.

Another point of irritation is my pronunciation. I generally have to introduce myself twice. ‘Donna,’ I say. ‘Dana? D-a-n-a?’ ‘No,’ I say, ‘Donna, D-o-n-n-a.’ ‘Oh you mean Daaaana!’ I have snapped only once. ‘No, I mean Donna. It’s been my name for over 50 years – I really ought to know!’ My friend Tess still says, ‘Hi, Daaaaaaana!’ whenever we meet.

Then there’s the misconception about New York rudeness, encapsulated by the joke ‘Excuse me, could you point me in the direction of Broadway, or should I just go f*ck myself?’

In fact, if I saw you poring over a map, I would barge up and ask where you wanted to go.

I am still regularly asked, ‘Are you from Canada or America?’

While dispiriting and bewildering, the question doesn’t upset me as much it would if you asked a British person, ‘Are you Scottish or English?’

In any case, I’m insulted by being thought either American or Canadian. ‘I’m from New York,’ I reply. Native New Yorkers think we’re just a little bit special and a country apart.

Still, most people are friendlier to me and less judgemental than they would be if I were from the other side of this country rather than of the Atlantic.

And I’ve done my best to pick up the local customs. In my written English, I have added ‘u’s for extra flavour. I have swapped zees – or zeds – for esses to acclimatise. I shop for coriander instead of cilantro and I can pronounce Leicester, Worcester and Edinburgh flawlessly. But I still occasionally slip on the sidewalk.

In my years here, I have developed a certain reserve. I’ve learnt the local art of avoiding eye contact and have developed a sense of embarrassment.

I can do false modesty and selfeffacement but, deep down, I still consider myself New York special. That’s nowhere near as special as the English in New York, though. They are convinced that they are really rather the ratherest thing!