J'aime Londres

I love London.

No, I don't think you understand,--I LOVE London.

Always have. Always will.

On this particular visit (my 5th?), I wanted to talk to everyone passing me on the street, simply because I COULD. And yet, when people addressed me, I had a hard time responding in full sentences. I've gotten so used to saying as little as possible when dealing with strangers, that it took some effort to really chat with the barmaid at the pub. She was having a hard day, poor love.

I'm a true Anglophile, much to the dismay of my Francophile friends (sorry Nancy!). And my Anglophile-ness is not simply a reaction to French culture shock (although it may be a bit intensified because of my current French-life). Somehow my English ancestory combined with a childhood full of All Creatures Great & Small, Beatrix Potter, Curious George, and Paddington Bear; an adolescence of Mary Stewart, Agatha Christie and BBC on PBS; and innumerable hours spent studying British literature... I've become Anglicized. During this weekend in London I had momentary pangs of jealousy for Patrice, my former roommate who is marrying a Brit next weekend and moving to the Isle of Wight. Sigh... How lovely.

But hey, I'm living a mere 45 minute train ride away from Paris! My grocery store is full of REALLY good food and REALLY cheap good wine, and my apartment building was probably built before the ink was dry on the Constitution. It's not a bad life, and I'm not complaining.

I am, however, wondering when I can get back to that blessed Isle...