I’m not one to be enamored with elections, but I’ll swallow my whatever it takes and cheer on a wonderful country, a wonderful people, and the bedrock of what’s essentially American in so many ways.
We’ve always been pretty much friends since that little spat in 1776.
I adore the British and have encountered them in my world travels so many times, in so many remote areas, and it always goes 100% great. Every time. It is, for me, always easy to spot the underlying brotherhood. Not so long ago, I had one living just two doors down in the lofts over a few year’s time. We joked each other all the time.
…One time, Bea’s niece—a college student at the time—dog sat for us. Mark put a can of Spotted Dick on our doorstep and then made sure when he saw her, to ask Jennifer if she’d gotten the Spotted Dick. Barrel of laughs.
I do not support electing rulers. But this is an election that is, minimally, over greater self-determination.
Do the right thing, Brits. Do it. Watch and listen to every second.
SELF DETERMINATION! At least as much as can be had, but you’re a damn sight better with the British End Up.