I don't know what it is about England's monarchy that has me going to
The Daily Mail to read about the latest news and photos on the Royals.
What is Kate wearing? Look at how handsome William is in his uniform. What exactly is the Queen's Diamond Jubilee? Beatrice is giving a tour of the Queen's old play house to the press--how quaint. Look at all those boats floating on the Thames! Big Ben is being renamed Elizabeth Tower? Keep Calm and Carry On. Long Live the Queen! What I love even more is listening to the BBC news on PBS. The newscasters read the news with style. The articulation! The execution! The vowels that glide off their tongue! Unfortunately, this Britt cannot speak like a Brit. I try to pull off the accent, but I can't--Boy mocks me, so I keep my mouth shut. I'm an Eliza Doolittle, I am. (The cockney-speaking one, that is.)
But what do my little ears tell me? My daughter speaks British?
"Here," she daintily says, picking up something from the floor. Except it sounds more like
hea'yuh as one would say out there in the motherland. I know she has it in her, so more of those perfectly formed English words are bound to come out.
By the way, I just love watching her sleep. Isn't she so loverly?
When the day comes when I'm off to England to experience the hustle of big-city London and the timeless beauty of the Lake District, I'll find my own Professor Higgins so I may speak like a true Brit. Or Britt.
