This is horrible treason to my wannabe Irish soul.
I'm suddenly in love with everything British. Have I watched too much Merlin, Hotel Babylon, Hustle, Spooks, QI (and Lie To Me with Tim Roth's gorgeous accent), even Torchwood? Is reading The Observer once every three months too addictive? Was allowing myself to dream of Cadbury Creme Eggs the other day a terrible mistake?
All I want is to be back there, struggling to get my National Insurance Number, hearing the word "cheers" twice in every conversation, swearing at the snobbish upper middle class, wondering what's all the fuss with the horse races, getting rained on unexpectedly, never finding a bus that runs on time, being spoken to in the street by strangers, eating chocolate chip cookies, loving the pubs and everything ancient, longing for a real forest, sneering at the tabloids, wondering if everyone is a foreigner, having a picnic where King Arthur once gathered his brave knights, never being alone anywhere, wrinkling my nose at greasy food, attending free concerts in the park, being called "love" by matronly shop keepers, reading novels set in the same town I'm in, realising what is meant by a "stiff upper lip", always finding something to gawp at, often suspecting someone is taking the piss.
2 comments:
And incessantly discuss the weather, or how some bloody chap's been the ruin of the Lords test this time .. and all the rest.
Being from a land with a major colonial hangover, the anglicanisation is always there. And you paint a wonderful picture of it.
:) Glad to hear I did it justice!
Post a Comment