An unabashed Anglophile, I daydream of Wellies and rainy days, strong white tea, my favorite pub from a term abroad in college, the list goes on. So, of course, I was eager to watch the new season of “The Crown” on Netflix. I settled in for the binge — but as Diana got in the car, on the way to her death, I couldn’t bear it and abruptly pulled down the screen of my laptop.

I was perplexed by my emotional reaction, and I’ve been delving into my memories connected with “Lady Di” and sussing out why I’m drawn to the Royal Family. I mean, it’s not like I’m a fan of “The Firm” and the outrageous cost of keeping it afloat, yet I’m hooked.

It all began when I was 14 and saw something on TV about Charles and Diana’s engagement. I watched all the coverage (which was limited, given that we had only four channels!). I was entranced by the spectacle, and by Diana. I couldn’t look away. (And, yes, I wore the heck out of my one-black-sheep sweater.)

Fast-forward to August 1997. My roommate and I were sunburned and coming down from post-beach gin and tonics when Sus’ parents (who are from the UK) called to tell her about Diana’s death. Sus and I stayed up all night watching the news. Over the years our friendship grew into something I held dearly. Cancer took her life a couple of years ago, and I miss her.

This season of “The Crown” for me is tangled up with grief and happy memories. Sus was fearless. So I dug deep, poured a G&T, and resumed my Netflix binge, knowing that if Sus were here, we would’ve watched it together.