When Anglophiles go bad

Growing up 'merican an' all, I precociously appreciated the sacrifices made by our forebears to give us our way of life. And I showed my gushing gratitude by fully exercising my birthright to watch far, far, too much television. Particularly PBS, which in those days, was overly reliant on British programming. (I say "in those days" because I haven't willingly watched a TV program in years. So I have absolutely no idea whether or not PBS has "gone native" under the Bush regime.) But suffice it to say that I was indoctrinated into Anglophilia early in life...or at least that's my excuse. Ironic, when you think of it: Kicking the Brits out of their own colony, only to use our tax dollars to buy BBC brainwashing 200 years later. I mean, there's bygones being bygones and all that, but...

Anyhoo.

Two to three decades on and much appalling British history studied, I've yet to lose the Anglophilia. But as much as I despise that tendency in myself, I am very, very excited to be leaving for the UK--my first trip off my home Continent, in fact--in a few weeks.

So excited that it's taking its toll in signature "me" fashion. "Are you making lists yet?" teased Dearest a few nights ago. Ha! Mere lists aren't even the half of it. I'm amazed that I've only had my archetypal "missing the plane" nightmare once since booking the tickets.

Never fear, I'm making up for the lack of psychosis in so many other ways. I've dutifully plowed through Fodor's London guidebook and Rick Steves' London guidebook. (The latter's useful in some ways, but what a kitschy style! Gimme straight-up Fodor's any day...) I've spent evenings on the living room floor matching up the map of London with the map of the Tube--and am still not finished. And then there's the highlighted spreadsheet of opening/closing times for all the things we want to visit. To which I'm starting to add pubs (none built before 1800 need apply) and other amenities. Tickets are booked for The Globe. And I peek at the Leicester Square webcam during the early part of workdays, so that I can get an idea of how non-tourists dress before I clothes-shop. And I'm actually thinking things like, "Gee, I really need to get brown walking shoes, and within the next week or so, just to make sure that there's enough time to break them in."

Aiyee. And this with weeks to go.

Things that I absolutely will revel in, no matter how touristy or eccentric:

• Riding the top level of a double-decker bus
• Trying Wensleydale cheese (hat tip to "Wallace and Grommit")
• Sitting on the steps of Traitor's Gate (Helene Hanff's brainchild)
• Visiting the tomb of my all-time lunch box hero, Elizabeth I
• Having Yorkshire pudding in Yorkshire (hat tip to the "All Creatures Great and Small" series)
• (Most especially) Watching the mushroom cloud form over Dearest's head while we're in Leeds and Yorvik.
  

I am highly disappointed, however, in the V&A's closure of the galleries that I most wanted to see--those of their textiles collection, including the magnificent Opus Anglicanum embroideries from the 14th and 15th centuries. Also, I learned far too late that the waiting time for tickets to the closing of the Tower Gate (which hasn't been skipped a night--not even for the Nazi's sweet sakes during The Blitz--in 700 years) is two months, even reckoning without Her Majesty's Postal Service. That Big Ben's chimes will be out of commission while I'm there isn't a tenth of the blow to my anticipation.

But we're finally, really, and truly going to England! WHEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!