Wearing my school blazer, cap and tie, I went shopping on Winchester's High Street with my Aunt Flavie while on summer holiday in 1946. A sales lady showed her an alligator (or was it lizard?) pocketbook the price of which would have paid for the term I had just completed at Kent College (Canterbury). My aunt, who married an Englishman in the early 1930s, did not appear to be very interested, but when she was told that Princess Elizabeth had one just like it, she snapped it up without hesitation.
Aunt Flavie also had black borders around her stationery for a year after King George died. She was a total convert. My Uncle Christian (her brother) also married in England in the late 1920s, lived in Nettlebed (Henley) and had an office right off Hyde Park. He, too, became English to the core, but with a bit more sense. My mother's two other brothers lived their long lives in the Dominican Republic and California, respectively, and both assimilated, although the former never totally acculturated. My mother married men from different countries, but she remained Danish. Basically, I come from a family of chameleons, but I think there is something about England that makes people go all the way, as it were..