I think I'm turning British

Have you ever felt extremely British? I know some of my British readers have. Probably every day of their lives. Well, I've been feeling pretty British lately. 

I've been walking around with an umbrella more, using it like a cane. And, when I don't have an umbrella I feel strange. 

I also have a pension for walking at a more leisurely pace, with the posture of a Londoner on a foggy day (This fact could be very debatable). 

I fall into at least 2 British dialects a day. Whether I'm in the locker room getting gym clothes, or talking to some attractive woman I've just met, I slip into an accent (I've even been asked a couple times if I'm English). If that weren't enough, I speak with British inflection as well, with emphasis on the last part of a phrase. And, I'm really not trying to do it, it's just some subconscious habit.

I have a hankering for tea. Or, at the very least "tea time." I stick to herbal teas for religious reasons, but occasionally call hot cocoa good at tea time too. And I guess that's another thing. I don't call it hot chocolate. I call it cocoa.

Here's the clincher: I'm a nasty cricket player. Just friday night I was meandering the corridors of a building on campus where they were having a party. The party included a lot of on-campus clubs and "free" food. Well, as I was going from the Mexican Culture Party Club to the Dodgeball Club to the Jiu-Jitsu club, I cam across two Sri Lankan guys and a cricket club. I grabbed the paddle and asked one of them to pitch to me. He started out slow, not realizing I have quite a bit of hand eye coordination, but then sped the pitches up as he saw me smashing the ball all over the place. And I hit every good pitch. Line drives, towering fly balls, whizzing grounders. Oh yeah. Cricket is my new game.

So I'm basically British. Citizenship aside. 

Do you think it was right that I voted in this year's US election? Maybe I should've written in Gordon Brown and David Cameron. 

Peter Pan Complex

Just recently it was discovered in a suburb of London that Peter Pan is in fact real. He did not get married, does not actually have a family, and the Hook movie was a nice idea, but completely false. Peter Pan is still a 12 year old boy who wears green tights and a Robin Hood attire. He was spotted last tuesday evening by a resident at 54 Kensington Street, in (name not disclosed), just outside of London. Apparently a large 'firefly' was described as having attached itself to his leg or buttocks and was tussling with him mid-air. At first, the resident said that she thought it was a ghost, but then, to her relief, she recognized him as Peter Pan.

He was said by the resident to have endorsed the lifestyle position much maligned by a majority of Christians. While watching the cheerful and infamous character, she heard him say, "Hey wench! Eat drink and be merry! Here's some pixy dust!" Thinking it was a drug reference, and having had some difficulties of her own with local law enforcement, the resident declined and said, "Grow up!" Peter Pan guffawed and flew away (supposedly to Neverneverland).

However, since news of the encounter has spread there has been a new revolutionary movement sweeping through this suburb of London. Most people tend to get excessively drunk, smashed, or otherwise incapacitated and then proceed to jump off of park benches, trees, roofs, and statues. When they are accosted by police, they generally say, "I don't want to grow up." Many have been caught making lewd gestures in public, digging holes in the middle of parks for 'buried treasure,' and having an increasingly difficult time settling down in meaningful relationships or careers. But surprisingly few have been held on formal charges, and many of the local police force have joined in the merriment.