People love to complain about the weather in Britain. But don’t these people stop to look at all the greenery that comes as a result of all the rainfall? It’s stunning!
The rolling hills. The dense woodlands. The breath-taking landscapes. It’s almost poetic when you walk through the English countryside. Makes me want to sing like Harry Seacombe.
I listen to people talking about how Britain is “finished,” fleeing to tax havens with their 40 pieces of silver and bag of gold. Give it a few years – they’ll come running back. They’ll miss the greenery. The crisp country air, the easy conversations, the familiar expressions, the short-hand that makes everyday conversation effortless – stuff people rarely appreciate until they find themselves in a place, humming to Sting’s “I’m an Englishman in [insert country here].”
Britain isn’t perfect. But it’s home. And it’s quite pretty.
Things will get better.
