Anglophilia

My high-school brown-haired friend Kevin boastfully adored everything about his English heritage, from the Rolls Royce to the Royal Family. He sometimes wore a black top hat for fun. One day, my gang with Kevin discussed the intrusion of Latin into the English language. He gleefully cited the word "fix" as a true Anglo-Saxon word, which I negated, indicating that it really derived from the Latin "fīgere." He knew that as a Filipino, I had also Roman ancestors. Kevin was like redheaded Michael in Grade 5, my first elementary grade on Lulu Island. He too was keen on Anglophilia.

Perhaps Anglophilia continues to play its part, but if I were one of the few surviving teachers of Anglo-Saxon I would rejoice at the way in which such terms as muggle and Wizengamot, and such names as Godric, Wulfric and Dumbledore, had become common currency.

But now, as a company with the word "British" in its name pisses apocalyptic quantities of oil into the ocean, and CEO Tony Hayward pops up on the news to make tactless statements in a British accent, anglophilia is shrivelling.