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Things I Miss: An American’s Love-Hate Letter to London
There’s a special kind of madness that comes with being an American in London.
Living in England is like spending a long summer at Grandma’s house. Now you know where your mom gets her quirks, there is lots of tea, everything moves a bit more slowly and Grandma has not updated anything in years. She’s kindly, but a little racist, and very fond of talking shit about the neighbors.
I know this is a sassy essay, but I must say I love my adopted country. I hope that there is a new horizon where GB can shuffle off the weights of the conservative 2000’s and old world need for monarchy and embrace what they have. However, in the meantime, I will suffer a daily wrestling match between appreciation and frustration that makes one question whether you’re going slowly insane or if the world around you actually is this absurd.
I used to think that J.K. Rowling was so deeply specific and creative with her worldbuilding; phrases like “showers of spiders”, “Rickety steep staircases”, and on and on with nuanced imperfections where the world was held together with tape and spells; like the patchwork Weasley house.
Turns out she isn’t that creative, that’s just how the UK works. Tape and spells, and yes there is a spider season because there are no screens on windows.
Let me explain.
