Rule Britannia

My flatmate Lizzie berated me a couple of nights ago because I appear to pick on the English a bit. She said something about me being unfair, lumping all English people together and something about it being racist. I guess it’s well overdue to say nice things about the place.

Yup.

The tubes are on strike this week.

Um.

Well, job done then.

To be fair, there’s many things I love about England. The public transport, although perpetually mocked, and currently non grata, is brilliant. At a moment’s notice I can catch the Eurostar from London to Paris. Reading is under half an hour away, and Cambridge is a shade over an hour. And tickets are cheap.

Then there’s the comedy. Without equal, they have best comedians in the world. From Monty Python to Eddie Izzard and Ricky Gervais, the subtle barbs of British humour have done much to shape the Kiwi brand of funny.

And you can find any shape and shade of person walking on the street. You pass burkas and punks, yarmulkes and crosses and after a while think nothing of it. Aside from the London Lite and Metro newspapers, you can pick up a free paper specifically for Aussies, Kiwis, Saffas, as well as Polish, and many other ethnicities. You feel like you’re in the centre of the world.

Even the twee-ness of the place is charming, with its Victorian and Edwardian buildings, narrow streets and tiny cars. It’s even better when you know you can escape to an antipodean bar and mix with people south of the equator whenever it gets too much.

I could go on too. Camden Town is like Cuba Street on steroids. Christmas is in its proper season. The live music scene is fantastic.

I’m sure I’ll find a few more things. And I’m sure there’ll be plenty of annoying traits that come along with them. But while my heart is still in Wellington, I now have made London home. Willingly, even.