I don’t think I’ll be going back to live.

“I couldn’t hardly get up this morning, Jack”, the woman in the dirty-looking pink hoodie shouts.

She isn’t shouting because of the noise, even if we are at the airport. A little later she almost screams, “Bye, Jack”.

It takes me a moment to realise that she’s doing it because the obese man opposite her is the one that is actually speaking to Jack on his mobile phone.

I am not pleased to hear that she couldn’t hardly get up this morning. Not least because of the bad English but also because of the Birmingham accent which, now, this time, this trip, really grates. Apart from the cold and the rain and the wind (as if that wasn’t enough), my desire to tell her and many, many more of ‘these people’ to ‘just fucking shut up’ has made my mind up. Unless I really, really, REALLY have to, I shan’t ever be back to live in the UK with its greyness both in weather, place and people.

Mind you, with this weather and so much abysmal, unfresh food, well, it would be enough to make anyone miserable. Obviously it didn’t rain ALL the time. There were moments of no rain and, dare I say, sunshine. The same with the food really, as I have already posted.

Not all people have this affect. Best Mate, for example. T, the new, old friend of BM who, so I was told, really wanted to meet me. That’s not unusual. People have never really understood our relationship. For that matter, neither have we (and we talked about it so I know her feelings are the same).

Just the weather alone would be enough. The people are just dreadful. The people in Hereford. The people in the airport. Just the people. I listen to other conversations. Mostly Brummie accents which really doesn’t help.

They are going or arriving. The ones arriving are dressed in shorts and T-shirts and flip-flops or sandals. They’ve come from somewhere hot, obviously. They don’t look particularly happy. Neither do the ones that are going.

They may all be respectful of personal space in terms of physical closeness but not as far as noise is concerned. I can see why other nations have such a poor view of the British people. Of course, it’s all a generalisation, even by me. Not all people are like this. My friends, for example. But there are too many like this and I don’t think I could live with it, day after day.

As I said to someone here, it’s probably as well that I don’t really understand Italian. Maybe I would have the same feeling about people here if I did?

No, I don’t think I’ll be going back to live there any time soon.

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