An Open Letter to England

Dear England,

I thought we were friends. I really did. But after your behavior (or behaviour, if you prefer) these past two weeks, it’s clear that our friendship doesn’t mean as much to you as it did to me.

I admit, we got off a rocky start back in January when you decided to have the biggest blizzard in years while I was struggling to get to Brighton. I didn’t appreciate that, and it made me wonder what kind of a country you were. But I gave you the benefit of the doubt, I forgave you, and we moved on. I thought my faith in you was justified, because of our lovely spring. With all of the sunshine, I was even beginning to wonder where the fuss about English weather came from. Do you remember that time I was on the continent for spring break and Iceland tried to keep us apart with that giant volcanic ash cloud? I fought to get back to you. I took a maddening assortment of planes, trains and, well, just planes and trains really, all for you. I thought you were happy to have me back, and I promised you that I wouldn’t do any more international travel for a while.

The past two weekends, I have faithfully kept my promise to you. Instead of going to Madrid, Dublin, Prague or somewhere exotic like that, I planned to travel in Kent, which, in case you need a geography lesson, is well within your borders. And what do you do? You rain, and you pour, and you don’t stop! And if that wasn’t enough, the minute I return, you’re sunny, you’re warm and you reek of spring while I’m stuck inside staring out the window, er, I mean, writing papers and studying. Why England, why? There’s a Katy Perry song to describe you, and it’s not “Thinking of You.”

But you know what, England? I didn’t let you ruin my travels. Two weekends ago, I went to London and had a free meal courtesy of ACCENT (remember, that company Wash. U. hires to make sure us UK study abroad students don’t die). The ice cream I had for dessert was delicious and definitely worth the trip.

And then, Riki and her family took me to stay at her in-laws’ magnificent home in Kent. The estate is so cool, it even has its own name and Wikipedia page: Sharsted Court. The house is amazing and has been there for hundreds of years; supposedly, it has a resident ghost, although I did not make its acquaintance on this trip. I concede, England, that you played by the rules that Saturday afternoon, and Riki gave me a tour of the grounds that was uninterrupted by rain, despite some ominous-looking clouds. The grounds have something for everyone. There are woods with beautiful flowers, a maze that one can safely get lost in and perfectly maintained gardens, which include elaborate bush sculptures that I thought only existed in the movies.

Iris’ antics kept me laughing the entire weekend, and Nick’s entire family was very welcoming. We had a great dinner, and I discovered that I’ve acquired a taste for red wine. It was a good night.

But then, England, you showed your true colors. All of Sunday morning and afternoon, it rained. No amount of “rain, rain, go away, come again another day” chanting could convince you to stop. Not that you kept Riki and me from taking a walk in the woods anyway. Yes, it was wet and cold, but it was fun, and I’d do it again. It was a lovely weekend away in the country, no thanks to you!

One weekend of bad weather I could overlook, even if it did come while I was on such a nice trip. But two? I signed up to go on a day trip to Kent with the International Office, and our first stop was Canterbury. There was intermittent drizzle in the morning, although I didn’t mind it so much, since I was mostly inside Canterbury Cathedral, which is gothic and remarkable and there’s really not much more to say about it. However, I am impressed that for 840 years, someone has remembered the exact location where Archbishop Thomas Becket was murdered in 1170, a spot that is marked with a burning candle. How eerie.

I didn’t complain about the cold (well, maybe I did a little) when I wandered through Canterbury with a Finnish classmate. We sipped piping hot tea and then explored the most beautiful river walk I’ve ever seen, complete with ancient medieval towers and trees that are minimally hundreds of years old. And then, because I’m me, we got more than a little turned around trying to find the bus. But on the bright side, we saw the residential area of Canterbury, and we got our exercise speed-walking from one end of town to the other, and then back again.

All of this is to say that I could have forgiven the crummy weather in Canterbury, but for it to downright rain the entire time I was at Leeds Castle is simply inexcusable. Leeds Castle is a medieval castle (obviously), and for a few centuries, it was traditionally owned by English queens. The Tudors even stayed there for a brief time, so I felt right at home among my old friends. It eventually passed into private hands, and in the 1920s, it was purchased by Lady Baille, an American who ended up living in a castle. She’s obviously my heroine and new model for life. Apparently, the key to her success was marrying and divorcing three members of the British aristocracy. I only have a few weeks left here, so I better get on that… She restored and improved the castle throughout fifty years. She must have done a good job, considering all the famous people who came to her weekend parties in the 1930s, and at one point, negotiations for peace in the Middle East took place there. How many castles can add “world peace” to their resume? Or at least “attempting world peace.”

The building interior can’t compete with Windsor Castle or Blenheim in opulence, but I haven’t seen any estates as large or perfectly landscaped since the chateaux in the Loire Valley. And this is why we are fighting, England. Even in the pouring rain, I could see how marvelous it would be to walk around this beautiful place in the sunshine. It’s a long walk to the castle from the car park anyway, and it doesn’t help that half of the castle’s attraction are outside. Why couldn’t I have that perfect day of sunshine, just this once? After a while, the greenery was just too pretty to walk by, so I tried to ignore my numb fingers and take a few pictures anyway, but I don’t think I will ever get over the missed opportunity for blue skies, green trees and a castle. At least until I go back, which I have vowed to do someday.

I think I’ve said all I need to say, England. If you want to apologize, I could use some nice weather this Sunday, when I’m planning to walk to my favorite tiny village for tea. Or better yet, put in a good word for me with your old buddy France, since I’m visiting Paris later this month, assuming I ever finish my papers and exams.

Sincerely,
Elyse

P.S. As a political science student, I should probably say something about the elections that were held last Thursday. Everyone was pretty excited about it here, although the fuss couldn’t compare to the U.S.’s last election. Still, there was a crowd of students watching the results live at a campus bar, so it was obviously big news. It was common knowledge that the Conservatives were going to beat Labour, and although the term “hung parliament” was floating around, I think a lot of people were surprised when no party gained the majority of votes. As a result, the past week’s headlines have been dominated with the party leaders’ every movement and their attempts to form Britain’s first coalition government in decades. After lots of drama, the Liberal Democrats, the largest third party, decided to team up with the Conservatives, which everyone pretty much expected, and Gordon Brown stepped down, much to almost everyone’s relief.

Here in Brighton, I think the large and very liberal student population may have had something to do with the election of the first-ever Green Party MP. However, any joy my classmates may have felt was mostly extinguished when David Cameron became Prime Minister. Sorry guys, better luck next time, but cheer up, he has to call another election sometime in the next few years!