Welling up at the drop of an (English) hat

It's right and proper and only natural that I would miss dear friends and family from the UK, and be commensurately sentimental when I see them again on our annual trip back. And I think it's understandable that I feel a tug at my heart strings when I experience some quintessentially English scene, or eat something which evokes my childhood.

And even a Brit would find this scene somewhat heart-stirring, I think.

But sometimes I wonder if I've taken my indulgence in missing the UK, and my sentimental delight on reconnecting with my roots, a little too far.

Things which have made me well up with joy on this trip so far include:

1) Wearing shorts and a cagoule (even the word 'cag' made me emotional) on a partly sunny, partly rainy day.

2) Sainsbury's, and Boots, two long standing British retail brands I'm absurdly attached to. Which is akin to an American being soppy about Vonn's.

3) This menu outside an average looking restaurant, with its rarebit, ox tongue and quail. Especially knowing that the asparagus is probably only on the menu for about a month.

4) A pub landlord being slightly gruff when we showed up 5 minutes before the end of lunch service.

Before you know it I'll be crying with joy when the waiter neglects to bring me water after the third time of asking, or I have to dry laundry on the bannisters.