Onyxrising's Journal

I've got a whole chicken, and assorted chicken parts, sitting in an apple and rosemary marinade. This should, in theory, give me enough chicken with apple gravy to last until about Tuesday night. The sheer volume of assorted chicken parts would carry any normal household through about a week, maybe more, but Jessi and Sven and prodigious eaters. Well, more accurately, Jessi is a prodigious eater. Sven is a picky eater. He'll eschew French dainties I cook, or Chinese food, or sometimes even Thai- but when he likes something, he will inhale it, once signifigant quantities of catsup have been poured on it. I think the catsup is just because he likes the expressions I make when he pours it all over classical French food.

Yesterday was Feedle's birthday party. I had a lovely time, and met new shiny people. Today there will be tea in the gardens, and tonight we're going to listen to Voltaire.

I've actually been reading a fantasy novel. Why is it that every one feels the need to write their thieves with lower class English accents? Even when the rest of the lower classes don't have the same accent? And why does our hero suddenly develop the accent literally within seconds of being accepted into a band of thieves?
This is not the first novel I've read that does this, and it always annoys me.