This post from Daily Snark plus the current Potter-mania reminds me how much of an Anglophile I used to be. I still love most things British, but when I was in grade school I was ready to pack up and move at a moment’s notice. Okay, and in college, too.

Actually, when I was really young, like 8, I wanted to be a princess. An Irish princess. One of those members of nobility who inherits an awesome castle but doesn’t actually have any responsibility. I had it all worked out in my head — at the time, I didn’t know much about my dad’s family except that 1) they were Scotch-Irish and 2) my dad’s father had died before I was born. So I figured that just maybe some ancient relative somewhere across the pond would pass away without any direct heirs, and somehow my dad would inherit a castle, and I would be a princess, and …. yeah….

But I grew out of that, and just decided that I would move to England someday and adopt the accent.

Well, I’m still here in Nashvegas, but hubby did make sure I got to visit beloved England — we went for our honeymoon, and it was fantastic!

I have to say that Paul hasn’t helped my Brit obsession. To my childhood obsessions with British literature, Sherlock Holmes, Andrew Lloyd Webber, and WWII British espionage, he has added a fondness for Robbie Williams, Jeeves and Wooster, and The Prisoner. We both have developed an appreciation for DangerMouse and The Avengers.

I’m not planning a move any time soon, though. Not while the Preds are still here, at least.