Returning to the Mother Country

Although we Americans are great friends with the British, there is that 800-pound gorilla in the room. We sort of, kind of, in a way cut our ties with the British Empire back in the 18th century, and reinforced the decision in the early 19th. Oh sure, we’ve been relatively friendly since the early 20th century, but we still bloody split up years ago!

How many divorced couples maintain an interest in what their ex is up to? Not many, and most who do, do so for all the wrong reasons. It’s fine to keep things civil on behalf of the children, but I’m talking about a genuine affection for the exes latest efforts. It doesn’t—or at least shouldn’t happen.

So why do I have a preference for BBC television programmes over most American programs? I’m not talking about an innocent fling with Monty Python’s Flying Circus in my younger, more foolish years—that’s to be forgiven, and perhaps even expected. I’m talking regular perusing of Netflix with full intent of finding a British programme of interest. I do hope the English don’t find our television offerings intriguing; I know the New Zealanders did back in the late 1980’s, but back then it was 5 million people and 60 million sheep—and long before Peter Jackson filmed the Tolkien stories there.

At least I can excuse my preference for BBC News over anything on the air or internet over here. That provides some comfort.

Good Heavens! I just realized that I’ve taken to drinking tea at breakfast!

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