The interviewee reads slowly through the consent form I have just handed him. I try to look confident, attempting to find a position in the chair that neither makes the audio-recorder too obvious nor obscures its sound. I worry about background noise, and the sound my coffee cup makes when it hits the table. I am conscious of my own awkward position in the low chair, conscious of the many pieces of paper I am clutching, conscious of people passing us as they hurry to and from their own tasks in the busy office environment. He looks up, and says in the slowly articulated manner characteristic of the North: 'Ja ja, ae har en mistanke om at du e herfra …?' [Well well, I suspect you're from around here…?] 'Ja, du kjenn' igjen etternavnet, eller …? Eller far'n min … Ja, ae e født her i Kirkenes. Far'n min e xxx' [Yeah, you recognise the surname, or …? Or my father … Yeah, I was born here in Kirkenes … My dad is xxx].The sentences are not verbatim, and the translated transcript does not capture the nuances of our North Norwegian dialects that likely prompted his comment; this was before I turned the recorder on, and before the interview formally started. We spent a couple of minutes figuring out how the interviewee knew my father -they had met at social gatherings and at work in the small town in the late 1980s -and about my personal background and interest in the region. It was only after this that I switched on the recorder, and the interviewee started elaborating on his experience of the political initiative that I was researching.In what follows, the moment sketched above serves as an entry-point to consider working with spoken words in a familiar (or even familial) context, and the blurriness of multifaceted positionalities 1 (Dowling, 2005). I briefly outline