Martin's cultural learnings in the South of England, aka the Sarf.

Well, today we drove to a mystical place called Ruislip (prounounced Rye-Slip) to see the Grand High Wrinklie, also known as Old Gran (my great-gran). It took 4 hours to get there. No, actually it took 6. I can't count. We took 'the scenic route' there. As usual. Always with the scenic route. From about Milton Keynes, things became humourous. People started saying things funny. Water becomes "waw-uh". I forget what else. I became suspicious of everyone. Especially the elderly. They seemed most likely to wield knives. We stopped at a Little Chef. I'll be honest; it was awful. There was a garage attached to it, which said "Bonjour" on it. I assumed that this was a nod at their nearest international neighbours, the French, who are at least 200miles away. It makes me wonder, do they have "Och aye the noo" on petrol stations up in the North East? Or, something crazy and Norwegian. Most odd. It was just generically boring.

(I also understand that today I did not go to the South, I started this nearly a fortnight ago. I thought I had better publish it. Soz 'ard)