Weary of the British

I love England, with its plentiful shops and beautiful architecture, but whenever there is talk about a royal visit to Canada, it always seems to unnerve me. Apparently, there are others who feel this way as well, even though it is wholly irrational. It’s not as if Camilla or Charles is going to waltz in and demand back Alberta or anything, but there’s something in the air that makes the experience fully awkward and unsavoury.
My theory is that it has a little something to do with them once owning us. I mean, we weren’t, are or ever will be like America with their hearty rebellion and loud “eff you”, allowing them to start from scratch. We kind of gently edged away from the whole colony label, gently proposing legislation and reminding them meekly how cold we can get in the winter. Our whole premise, whether intentional or unintentional, was to fly under the radar and be as quietly defiant as possible. It worked for us, but it’s pretty hard to play coy when the queen is hanging around Ottawa scrutinizing our tulip formation and waving very stiffly. Maybe we don’t have to be frightened and shy anymore, but it has possibly been bred into us as a survival mechanism.
We might just as well get used to it though, it doesn’t seem like they’ll be leaving us alone anytime soon. We may resent the gleam in their eye or the proud expression that consumes them as we treat them like royalty, our royalty, even though we’ve been doing just fine without them for quite some time now, but we must keep seething in private. Like an annoying mother-in-law who pokes her nose where it is unneeded, we too must paint on a generous smile and agree that maybe, just that one time, we should have followed America’s lead.