Rrrrrright! I've finally begun my trek through Engerland. I landed at Gatwick yesterday and for the first time ever I ran into the slightest bit of bother at immigration control. Everybody has to go through this, as the UK is not a member of the Schengen treaty, but I've always breezed through.
This time however, some fuckin' Chinese looking guy who barely spoke understandable English held me for five fuckin' minutes because he thought I looked "vely diffelent, vely diffelent" from my passport photo. Searching around a few minutes for someone to give him a second opinion, he finally landed on the guard standing next to him (score one for captain obvious there), who promptly said the passport photo and my actual, lovely, physical appearance belonged to the same person. Honestly!
As is always the case with driving in England, I spent the first trip down to my hotel in a state of mortal terror and needless anxiety of other traffic, my own panel instruments, the gear and various objects along the roadside, including large gas stations. Against all odds I got to where I was going in one piece.
The "hotel" was a B & B in a rural setting, less than 10 minutes away from Gatwick. I was put in one of the stable rooms, which was actually quite nice. Breakfast this morning was solid, English fare - the only meal the British actually excel at. It was eaten in a low-ceilinged dining room from the 16th century. Yes, Tudor times. In this country they tend to use old, old buildings for lodgings and meals and even for living in, instead of just bulldozing them down. It's one of the many things I love about the English.
When I arrived yesterday I was greeted by one of the roughest looking cats I've ever seen. I swear, this orange creature looked like he was a bully from central casting. But when I approached him, he turned into this little furball of love and purring. I spoke to a Danish woman at breakfast today and apparently the cat had been in her room all morning, rubbing against her, purring and helping her pack.
They also had at least three huuuuge dogs of unknown origins - possibly there was some Italian mastiff in there - and I said hello to two of them, both the size of ponies and both just drooling with love and affection. I've mentioned before that the English love their dogs and cats, and this place is no exception. On the other hand, it may not be the best place if you're allergic.
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