I miss England, I really do. I miss Hyde Park and red telephone booths and proper pubs and hearing little English kids in their cute school uniforms say “mummy” and having food described as “nice” but in a way that means “really lovely” and not “meh”.
Reading Jason Mraz’s last journal entry just made me miss it more. He really hits upon the most notable, important parts of English life, including brown sauce, jousting, and zebra crossings (pronounced zeb-rah, not zee-bra, of course).
I’ve never lived in England, I’m not from there or anything, but I’ve spent time traveling there, soaking up the history and the poshness, the crazy rhyming slang and turned up shirt collars, the old school punk attitude and the classic fish and chips. Eh, scratch that last one. Soaking up fish and chips sounds disgusting, and greasy.
My last trip to England was for the sole purpose of visiting my English boy, well, boys (like chips, you can’t have just one), both of whom I met, funny enough, in Australia. Little known fact for Americans, but Australia is full of English people, mostly ages 18-22, who are on holiday or doing a gap year – that’s a year off from their studies, not a year spent wearing denim and khaki. They can see the sun for the first time in yonks and still get their mince pies and and Flake bars, just like home. Plus the English pound is worth something like $43 Aussie dollars, so they can shop and drink and play and skydive and still go home with enough in their pockets to remove whatever horrible tattoo they got in Surfer’s Paradise or BrisVegas.
Didn’t I start out saying something about Jason Mraz? No? Well then I’ll start saying it now: I love Jason’s take on travel. I love his worldliness, his passion for new places and new experiences. I love that he Gets It. I love that he can see the Big Picture, even when he lives in the details. I love knowing that a kid who grew up in a place called Mechanicsville, for goodness sakes, can live the American Dream by risking it all to become a success, without becoming a celebreality whore, that he can walk the line between pop star and prophet, that he can go on an Invisible Microphone World Tour without starting an international incident over the handbag (or manbag) he’s carrying. As my friend Sparky might say, (with an impeccably cute accent) Mraz is a bit of alright.
And you know what makes it all possible? A passport. Get in line for yours today.
I dreamed I went to England and met the Spice Girls there for tea,