When I met Dean he was driving a bright red Corvette. I told him boldly that although he ‘Vette was impressive, someday I was going to have an even more impressive car—a Jaguar. Even then, I loved everything British, which naturally made a Jag a perfect car for me.
If you’ve seen me driving around Dayton lately, you’ll notice that this particular dream has finally come true for me: I am now the proud owner of a JAGUAR! Patrick named her Kitty Purry. Sure, she’s a four-door and a little beat up—but she’s still made in Liverpool, England and that makes her perfect in my book. She even has a TELEVISION in her dashboard—a REAL, LIVE TV!! So, in theory, I can drive and watch Oprah at the same time. ‘In theory’ because I haven’t figured out how to run the television yet. Or the GPS. The previous owner was from New York and the only place the GPS wants to send me is New York City. When I try to reprogram it for Des Moines, it yells at me in a very proper British accent to “take a u-turn when possible.”
At least it is reprimanding me with a British accent. When I bought the car, the GPS spoke in Italian—not an Italian accent, but actual Italian. It took me well over a week to figure out how to change the voice. The car—though very cool—is also very complicated. But it is –oh-so worth it because it makes me think of London and Bulmers and Stonehenge every time I get behind the wheel.
I’ve always been obsessed with Britain—the monarchy in particular. I fondly remember summer trips to the library, when I would check out a dozen books on King Henry VIII and his six wives. HBO’s series “The Tudors” was like a gift from the English gods to me. You can imagine my giddiness when Prince William announced his royal nuptials to Kate Middleton.
The night before the nuptials, I dutifully set my alarm for 3:45 AM to watch every single minute of the Wedding of the Century. I woke Josie at 5:00 so she could watch the “I Do’s.” Jo and I giggled about the ornate hats, while we cuddled under the covers. When I told her that she could tell her own little girl about how she woke up in the middle of the night to watch the royal wedding with her mommie, she rolled eyes and said, “Like that’ll happen.” Well, at least I tried to make a memory.
Now that the wedding’s over, I guess my monthly trip to the British Food Store in Ames will have to be enough to feed my Britishmania jones. Every time I’m in the area, I head to the BFS to stock up on hard cider, HP sauce, and Wheatibix cereal. I can always pull out the scrapbook from the month I spent four years ago in Great Britain. And, I figure I’ll be headed across the pond for a long visit in a few years anyway—you know, when Josie marries Prince Harry. Then she can be Princess Josie and I can be Dowager Lady Kendra and spend my days polishing her tiaras. I am determined that our early morning wedding watching will pay off BIG TIME!!
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