Anne.

I have been swimming in Anne of Green Gables nostalgia recently, as I often must. I grew up reading and re-reading Anne; her dreams were my dreams, Gilbert was such an ideal man, and frankly you can do a lot worse—I stand by Anne.

I think Anne and Gilbert are still lodged firmly in my subconscious, as an influence, for better or worse. This is pretty normal, lots of girls grow up with Anne. I guess it's better than a certain current obsession with the undead but probably just as unrealistic. Two people who are made for each other, who don't realise it at first, who become best friends, and who grow to love each other through suffering? That's a noble criteria in my dreams but a useless one in my real life.

Might as well bury my nose in Avonlea and live vicariously. Innocent love, pretty dresses, gloriously coloured countryside, buggy rides, lavish home decorating, swirling piano music...