If a holiday in England isn't in the cards for me this year, the next best thing is to read about someone else's travels to my favourite destination of choice. Within a few days I found a copy in a second-hand shop that was allowing three customers in at a time. Decades of circulation experience at the library has taught me a thing or two. For instance, I know when a book has been resting on a wet tummy in the bath. Forensically speaking, the wavy water-damaged pages on the bottom of the book, mostly in the middle, are a dead give-away. So it was a wide swerve on the second-hand copy, but within days I was able to buy a copy at our newly reopened bookstore!
'My first sight of England was on a foggy March night in 1973 when I arrived on the midnight ferry from Calais.'
Experiencing some difficulty in finding a room for his first night, modern readers will instantly appreciate what the internet has achieved for adventure seekers, holiday makers or people relocating to distant cities. The lack of internet technology or cell phone usage adds a layer of charm that dates this book somewhat, but Bryson's muddling through makes for good stories.
After five months of travelling, Bryson was a day away from arriving at Heathrow for a flight back to the States to continue his university studies. A last minute job offer at a local hospital changed the course of his future when he met the woman who would later become his wife, while working a shift. Fast forward twenty years and a family, the author was busy preparing to relocate everyone to the States. But not before embarking on a tour of Britain that would last seven weeks and result in a bestselling book.
By the the tenth or eleventh page I had already laughed out loud a few times and recognized a couple of sentiments. From the stern B&B owner with a strong resolve about bathroom hygiene to a British fondness for what Americans would consider underwhelming nibbles, Bryson hit the mark.
'It's the most extraordinary thing. They actually like their pleasures small. That is why, I suppose, so many of their treats - teacakes, scones, crumpets, rock cakes, rich tea biscuits, fruit Shrewsburys - are so cautiously flavourful. They are the only people in the world who think of jam and currants as thrilling constituents of a pudding or cake.
But beware, there are comic barbs to many of Bryson's observations that can sting a bit. It's obvious he loves Britain and most of its citizens but his humour can run to the loutish every now and then.
Bill Bryson has made me curious about visiting Salisbury, and I had no idea there are hedgerows still in existence that date back to Anglo-Saxon times. Describing the friendly way people living in the Yorkshire Dales will let themselves into your home without knocking first (I'm sure he's making some sweeping generalizations) has made me keen to visit. And can it be true that Blackpool served up the equivalent of forty acres of potatoes each day in chips during the 90s?! But when Bryson is annoyed regarding a particular service, or what he perceives to be an excessive cost for an item, he doesn't come across as very patient or understanding. My hope is that this is just a case of dramatic license in storytelling....or that Bryson has mellowed since the mid-nineties.
I spent most of the time reading Notes from a Small Island on the patio while landscapers sawed, shovelled, and bulldozed their way through a neighbour's back garden; a project that's been going on for weeks. With so much stone cutting going on it would appear they're on their way to having their very own cathedral just behind the pool. So was I happy to have a book that could distract me from all of the noise and dust? Absolutely!
View over Burnsall
Yorkshire