Feeling Rather British

So this morning, I looked outside and grumbled about the down-pouring snow.

I grumbled some more about the fact that I had to wear my wellies instead of my preferred option that have no friction that would surely lead me to my death, or worse, humiliation.

Then I grumbled about my breathlessness after hiking up to the Benson 

If you are not a BYU-I student I can lie and say it's really strenuous.... but I'm just shockingly out of shape

But as I walked with my trusted brolly in tow, I realised that I was the only person carrying one. It was literally chucking it down with snow, and I was the only person who felt like it was appropriate to carry an umbrella. It was at that precise moment my friends, that I felt completely and utterly British. I had spent the morning moaning, I was cold, wet, and a tad moody. But I was also British. Down to my little quilted jacket and my Wellington boots, I was British.

In my mind I heard the Hallelujah chorus and felt like the happiest girl alive.

Sounds silly I know, but as much as I deny it, I really do miss that quaint little island of mine. 

I thought it should be documented, so here it goes.

Grey Skies

Little Quilted Jacket

Wellies

I even found one of these!!!

Twas a good day

DISCLAIMER:

Now, before you start rolling your eyes and thinking that I'm going to attempt to be a haute couture fashion blogger, I can assure that I'm not; here's why. Firstly, my clothes are definitely not interesting enough. Secondly, I am awful at taking serious pictures. Want proof? Here are some bloopers

(if you're lucky you will someday see me doing the "LA-LA-LA-LA dance that inspired this pose)

(BIG thanks to my roomie Ashley who was long-suffering and took some snaps for me).