Wednesday, September 22, 2010

Good Afternoon Her Majesty!

I was eleven years old when I started learning English. I remember like it was yesterday that every page in my first course book was full of colourful pictures of various towns and cities in the UK and photographs of the members of the Royal Family. Since then, it's been my most precious childhood dream to go to Britain sooner or later and have a cup of tea with her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II in any of those 775 rooms at Buckingham Palace – the White Drawing Room is my humble priority, let me say. Since then, I've been wondering whether to write Her Highness a letter with quill closing with the words 'I have the honour to be, Madam, Your Majesty's humble and obedient servant'. 
Cavallini Notebook, Keep Calm and Carry On

The day before yesterday I received this cute postcard from one of my students: DJ Arda. He's been in Britain for a couple of weeks to advance his English. Before he flew to London, he'd promised to post me a card as soon as he got the opportunity. When I saw the stamp on the back of the card, no happiness ever was comparable to mine. As if a royal butterfly had flown all that way from London and landed elegantly on my threshold.  My eyes have been shining with happiness since then. 

Well, it's the third gift I've received from London. The first one is this glittering poster and it was very kind of Amela – one of my friends here in Sarajevo– to bring me these two pencils. I couldn't get the chance to have that dreamy cup of tea with Her Majesty yet but these souvenirs from somewhere around her residence make me smile whenever I feel pessimistic about it. They do me good. 

Now I am 29 years old and I've been constantly asking myself why I am such a British monarchy addict. I searched for every piece of detail in my life and found out what? My mother used to call me "My Princess of Wales" while I was a baby, she says. I looked like Princess Diana as a blonde baby with blue eyes born to an all dark-haired family. Perhaps mom just wanted to create a fairy tale around me to unintentionally boost my already high-pitched ego. I don't remember it at all but there must be some hidden bond between my British Royalty admiration and these childhood memories. My ridiculous effort to believe in such a psychoanalytical approach makes me feel even happier. So, dream on. 


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