So, I’m stealing a Thursday. I’m going to make it work, too. 9,000 words in one day! Woot woot! To gear up for being British (know this: Ginny and Sir Anthony are clearly REAL but I’m the dumb American who puts words in their mouths) I've been watching Antiques Roadshow (the British edition) whilst I exercise on my trampoline each morning. It’s been thought provoking since I'm always picking up some odd bit of information that could prove useful in Miss D’s world. Mostly, I'm always struck by the major difference between Brits and Americans.
Let me elaborate:
When an American is told that his civil war gun is worth $2,000, he gets so excited, he practically loads the thing and starts shooting right there and then (or, at the very least, wets his pants) (very quietly) (below camera) (one can only assume).
When a Brit is told “I don’t want to shock you but, your tiny little enameled silver trinket was made by Faberge during the reign of the last Czar of Russia and is worth 20,000 pounds”, (forgive me father, for I have sinned—I do not know how to make the British pound sign) (or can’t remember how) (same diff) the owner merely curls her lips into what is meant to be a smile but looks more like a grimance and murmurs “Well, that’s really quite a sum of money, isn’t it? I think perhaps I’ll celebrate by taking a cab home instead of walking” (presumably right past a public restroom in which one can avail one’s-self of the proper facilities with some dignity).
The British stiff upper lip—long may you refrain from wavering!