The first time I traveled to England was back in the late ’80s. Everything seemed so familiar but oddly jarring and foreign, like the compact black cabs racing up city streets on the wrong side of the road. I could also understand everyone — very important because I’ve never been good with languages and panic in countries like Germany and Italy — but then the British didn’t sound anything like me with my flat northern New England accent. And what was really cool was that I actually had family there who looked like me, but who spoke with these lovely plummy accents, took tea at 4, and read P.G. Wodehouse in their detached cottages.
With England, it was love at first sight.
I’ve traveled to England dozens of times since then and turned into a bigger Anglophile as I’ve gotten older; I’ve got the waistline to prove it. I still think British Airways is the best airline in the world. I watch BBC America more than any other television channel. The best dessert in the world is crème brûlée (it’s English, not French!), and the best chocolate bars in the world come from Cadbury UK. Most of my favorite authors are Brits, and if they’re not, they do a pretty damn good job of behaving like them. Same goes for artists, musicians, chefs, and actors. Favorite album? London Calling, natch. The British royal family? Eh, not so interested in them, but I’ll confess I read Hello! every week at Borders and I’m addicted to the Daily Mail‘s gossip pages.
When I started this blog five years ago, I figured there were hundreds of thousands of Anglophiles like me out there who were on the lookout for news about anything British, or who want to know how to acquire British foodstuffs and products. Occasionally I post my finds, but I confess: the blog has turned into more of a personal blog detailing my knitting/sewing/cooking/biking exploits.
In real life, I’m a freelance magazine writer, ghostwriter, recipe developer, and author of three books (including co-author of the popular Renegade Writer books for freelance writers) who lives in suburban Boston, not far from where the British got their butts kicked in 1775 (I have ancestors who fought on both sides, so don’t get your knickers in a twist). I’m married, have a 12-year-old son named Oliver*, and when I’m not writing or blogging, I like to garden, travel to places other than the British Isles, feed my serious knitting addiction, and bike.
*I swear, we didn’t choose Oliver because I’m an Anglophile.
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