notes from a small island

With this blog, I try to write about life in England through my own eyes - astigmatism and all.

A few posts back, I made reference to the author, Bill Bryson. At present, we’re taking turns reading his book (post title). “Taking turns reading the same book?”, you ask. Well, it’s kind of like calling “shotgun”, when eyeing the unattended soft-cover on coffee table or the bedside table, followed by a quick hand swipe; needless to say, I am unsuccessful. As the book wasn’t my birthday present, my bookmark hovers around the same location, while my partner reads ahead with uncontrollable shakes and stifled laughter and at the same time, expertly brushing off my sleeve-tugging and dodging my constant-asking, “Tell me what’s so funny?” and “Where in the UK does his travels lead him now?”

The book made it into my bag today so I finally got the chance to read Bill's funny anecdotes (yep, I'm on first name basis with him) on the train; in that my bookmark surpassed the other orange train ticket stub. As I am getting farther into the book, I realize that I am writing about the same things as the author – obscure English town and pub names, train travel, variable weather patterns with different, although fewer, examples. But hey, I only have 6 months' experience of living in the UK and he's up, by at least quarter of a century, on me!

So to avoid any plagiaristic concerns and nasty emails from Bryson’s publicist or even Bill himself, I will now have to forego my planned future entries on bus drivers handing out change to passengers, uncomprehensive road signs (but maybe a couple of photos of roundabout signs requiring legends will be okay), the lack of seats in waiting areas, and musical garbage cans (Does he talk about this? Nope! I can use that for a future post!). Instead, I can only offer you a chance to read our copy of this very entertaining book but I call "shotgun".