What is it with we Americans? We fought for freedom from the British and now, 135 years later we can't get enough of them. We want accents like the British (remember Madonna magically acquiring a faux one after living in London for a month - talk about puttin on The Ritz). We want estates like the British, we want manners like the British (at least I'd like to be surrounded by people that have them, I don't think anyone texts during High Tea), we want quaint English cottages (how 'bout that Peter Rabbit's estate, Beatrix's heart and will were in the right place), we want British cars (Jaguars aren't just for the jungle), we want, we want, we want.
Being a perennial night owl I knew I'd have no problem being away at 4 AM. Forget the orange juice, coffee and croissant, give me a British Breakfast.
Was I watching Matt and Meredith on NBC? Or their CBS or ABC competition? Heavens no. I was glued to BBC-W since 11 pm last night. My ears after 5 years are used to their news every 30 minutes. Anderson Cooper won't do. It must be a bona fide journalist from the BBC to deliver my newscasts.
I always cry at weddings? Don't you? Yes, I got all misty and shed a few tears as the Spitfire Fly By went overhead at Buckingham Palace this morning. I always get sentimental and filled with emotions whenever I recall the only person Hitler feared, The Queen Mother, who stayed in London during the Blitz. She stood her ground and didn't back down. No shrinking violet was she.
Do I crave all things British? Well, I do dream of one item. Perhaps someday I'll have a marvelous balcony with a panoramic view. Prince Charming not included.
A girl can dream can't she?
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