The Inspiration of Plain Jane

I just saw Becoming Jane in the theater this evening. It was a lovely, loving little flick and one that any self-confessed anglophile (see post below) should see.

I believe that I may indeed be in love with James McAvoy now.

I know that I am in love with Jane Austen.

Several years ago, I visited her adult home at Chawton. The house was a postcard idyll. The seventeenth century cottage had sash windows and creaking wooden floors and wide door ways and ancient trees. It was romance and tradition at once. It was also drafty and rather small.

And the smallest thing in the whole place was Jane Austen's writing desk. No oaken behemoth, the desk instead resembled one of those desks (antiques by a Texan's standards) from my elementary school which was basically a chair with a tray attached, a tray about one inch wider and longer than a ledger sized piece of paper--the kind of desk on which you can't write and rest your elbow at the same time.

On this cramped desk, in this rather ordinary home, Jane Austen wrote some of the best novels ever written in the English language. And she wrote those novels when the form was just that--novel.

If Jane could change literature forever, if Jane could change expectation forever (after all, she was a woman who could write as well as a man...gasp) while writing on this tiny little desk (and answering the door and serving tea), why should I ever feel discouraged?

Comparatively, my pursuits are small and my resources are vast. My opportunities would be unfathomable to Jane. I never, ever have to serve tea. (Good thing, too, my british inlaws would probably tell you.)

This week, Katie and I made some elaborate plans about the future of our store. I was exhilarated by the brainstorming as it happened, and then immediately wracked with worry and doubt. But the dreams we have are within our means and the space we have to maneuver in is vast enough for all our visions. At least at the moment.

This is what I learned tonight: when I grow up, when I really grow up, I want to write like Jane Austen--and look like Anne Hathaway.

Top Ten Reasons I'm an Anglophile

Today I finally made a treasury over at etsy that I am very proud of--so proud that I am devoting the blog to the same topic as my treasury: Anglophilia. Specifically, my deep, abiding case of it.

The treasury has a bunch of great items that are either related to my love of Britain or made by British crafters. See the world. See my treasury. (For those who don't make it over before the treasury expires, I will be posting some of the great items so that you can admire those sellers as much as I do.)

Here are ten things that I love about Britain:

1. The accents...and yes, there are many. Everyone seems to have a different one there and they all sound like music to me--especially Welsh ones. Usually, I can't understand what Welsh people say, but I find myself smiling and nodding in genuine agreement as their words up and down and dance all around.

My favorite accent of all time, though is, of course, my husband's. I love the way he says puuh-fect in stead of perfect and s-ree lan-ka for sri lanka and when he's annoyed with me, I'm Ray-chuw and not Rachel. His words make me melt. (They make a lot of other Texans melt too. He gets lots of free food--and a job offer--because of it.)

2. Tea time. Is there any cozier daily ritual? I always feel renewed after having "a cuppa" with my British friends.

3. British people have the best coats. Think about it. They have to wear them all the time. If it was nighttime starting at 2 in the afternoon for half the year AND it rained every single day AND the temp never EVER seemed to top 65--I'd have a great coat, too!

4. They have huge working vocabularies. When Richard and I have children, I think I'm only going to let him talk to them. That way they will learn words like whilst and hegemonic and they will actually use them. All the time. If I teach my kids to speak, they'll say things like yeah, mom and dad, i'm fixin' to do what y'all asked. Which would you choose?

5. Hats. Lots of amazing hats, especially at weddings and when they go to the races. (Sigh...they go to the races.)

6. There are vending machines devoted to selling cadbury's chocolate in most train stations.

7. Last time we visited, my husband had to go to the emergency room. No one ever asked how he was going to pay for the visit.

8. Shakespeare was British. And so was Dylan Thomas. Everyone in Monte Python was British. Nigel from Top Model is British, too. And Twiggy. So are the Beatles. Prince Harry is British. And my two beautiful nephews are British. And so is Winnie the Pooh. (Personally I think the oldest bears a striking resemblence to Winnie--only my nephew is cuter and prefers yogurt to honey.) And Beatrix Potter. And Harry Potter. And Mary Poppins. And Julie Andrews for that matter. I think I've proven my point.

9. I lived in the Forest of Dean, England for the year that I was two. I have few memories of it, except for the taste of cherry yogurt, and a daisy chain that my "child minder" made with me, and the sheep that ate our grass. But I think that it imprinted England on my heart forever.



A few pics from that first year:

I also got into hats whilst there...when in Rome, right?

And drum roll, please...

10. Did I mention that I have the most darling British husband in the whole world? back then...playing the good english boy

and now...

I guess he's always the beginning and the end of it for me.

P.S. here are some screen shots of the treasury as it is about to expire. I think that these great sellers will still be around even if you read this next month or next year. Check them out at www.etsy.com today.