I saw England in the sky the other day.
that isn't meant to sound cryptic.
I actually did. see England. in the clouds.
it was quite astounding really.
a map of the United Kingdom composed entirely of clouds.
floating up there in the sky above my head.
it wasn't at all like those photoshopp-ed pictures of hearts in the clouds or of the moon the same size as the sea.
no...it was much better.
Ireland was floating over on the left and Scotland jutted out from the top. Wales was even represented!
this cloud formation was truly geographically accurate.
why am I bothering to write about this phenomenon?
because. well, because! if you know anything about me at all, you know of my love for all things British.
there's even a name for people like me: a n g l o p h i l e
/ˈæŋgləˌfaɪl, -fɪl/ Show Spelled [ang-gluh-fahyl, -fil] noun
a person who is friendly to or admires England or English customs, institutions, etc.
yup. that's me.
almost to a fault.
I spent six months living there in my early twenties and ever since, I've dreamed of going back.
as in, returning to that island is never far from my thoughts.
scheming and dreaming my way.
if I could choose anywhere in the world to live, the UK would be my number one choice.
I honestly would have no problem giving up my American citizenship and could live quite happily as an ex-pat over there.
sometimes I wonder if I wasn't meant to be a Brit.
it sounds silly, I'm sure...
but so many of the quirks that make me, well, me, would fit in quite nicely on the other side of the pond.
I'm not just talking about my inane love of all things Harry Potter and Downton Abbey
no...I'm referring more engrained things.
no...I'm referring more engrained things.
like my need for four seasons (and summers that aren't ridiculous)...
and my love of cold.
I honestly can't remember ever being more cold than the winter I spent over there...(and I grew up in Alaska!)
that wonderfully wet cold that just seeps into every crack and cranny and makes you crave fires in the grate and woollens and something hot in your hands.
and tea and biscuits.
and tea and toast. (no one does toast quite like the British!)
did I mention tea?
there's also my slightly unhealthy obsession with Wills and Kate. and baby George!
let's not forget my complete loathing of driving.
I most certainly love the convenience of having a car...but goodness, i really and truly hate driving.
especially at night.
to be able to just pop on the train or bus or tube...bliss.
perhaps it sounds strange, an American that would willingly give up their citizenship...
I know I have a romanticised view of it all.
and I also know there would be things about it that would drive me absolutely mad as well.
it's my dream. one I've harboured in my heart since leaving back in 2002.
I'm afraid I've passed my obsession on to my son.
he draws Union Jack flags on his colouring sheets.
he knows all about the Tube and how Big Ben is actually the name of the bell inside the tower, not the tower itself.
he could tell you several examples of the difference between American English and British English: chips/crisps, pants/trousers, garbage can/rubbish bin, cookies/biscuits, etc.
he was absolutely crushed when he was assigned Italy for his class country project. he so desperately wanted to do his report on England.
his favourite shirt at the moment has the iconic red, double-decker bus emblazoned on the front.
and of course, you can't leave out his beloved Harry Potter.
he is also an anglophile despite his lack of appreciate for tea.
this past month, there was a glimmer of hope, a chance that we (our family) would be spending an extended period of time over there, "across the pond".
joyous shouts of glee and jumping about the house ensued.
I courted mistress hope. let my heart fly sky high.
but she is a cruel mistress, hope.
and the higher you fly, the farther you fall when reality rears its sensible head.
alas, the chance, our one chance! has been lost in the details.
my heart has been mourning the loss.
seems silly, doesn't it?
there are so, so many worse things in this world.
I sometimes contemplate simply giving up my dream of living there with my family.
because really, what are the odds?
slim. to none. yes.
yet, I can't help myself.
I can't STOP dreaming.
because that's what I am.
it's what I do.