Cheeky Angland

I've mentioned before that I'm a little stupid about British things.  I stayed up all night with girlfriends to watch Bill and Cathy Cambridge get married, I watch Downton Abbey with joyful abandon, and, omigod, have you SEEN Call the Midwife?  And then there's Newcastle Brown Ale and Plymouth Naval Strength Gin...oh!  Also Henry Cavill.

Because omigod, have you SEEN Henry Cavill??

I say stupid because if you noticed, most of my impressions of Britain come from television.  I spent a day in London once, and know British people, and plan to go there again...but really, if I'm truly honest about it, in my mind, England is kind of a big foggy, moor-y, cottage-dotted fantasyland full of simple folk full of country wisdom.

Except when it's sophisticated urbanites navigating bustling city life, of course.

Intellectually, I know it's a dynamic, diverse and complex country with cities and issues and poverty and people that get up and go to the bathroom like everyone else, but when you have delightfully oblivious old gentleman like this one talking about the "extraordinary action" of his "particularly clever novelty toy", it's hard not to let my imagination get the better of me.

"What a wonderful idea for a gun.  Quite mad, but great fun."

And then there's this absolutely amazing, naughty, bizzarely detailed menu from a London brothel circa 1912.  There is simply something for everyone, here.  There are stones involved.   I mean, free back scuttling, people...that's serious value.

OK, but seriously, what the hell is back scuttling?

It's all just so damn charming.  I almost don't ever want to go back, just so I can keep this ridiculous mirage going, because the cakes in that mirage are really good, and everyone has really great clothes and are most polite when being horribly insulting.  And all the men call me "love" or "miss" and all my friends think I'm cheeky and fun and there's strawberries and history and fairies.  Doesn't that sound great?

Sigh.

Ah, fantasy.  Where sexy ladies will scuttle your back with extraordinary gun vibrators before going down the pub and buying you a warm pint of lager.  Cheerio!