Hey, Linda, you cut me to the quick with that nasty stuff re Bill Bryson.  Thank
heaven for Bill Bryson!  He's funny!  I have to say I get a seat by myself on
the train whenever I'm reading one of his books, since I'm giggling or guffawing
 or weeping and snorting in hilarity and recognition.  When he described
Blackpool as "having just thrown a litter festival" in his honor I was beside
myself, though I didn't realize that that's what Sheffield had been up to at the
time I visited that town (Blackpool cannot lay special claim to these litter
extravaganzas; I thank Lady Bird Johnson daily when I'm in England for her
beautify America campaign--obviously nothing anyone in the UK cared to emulate,
must keep out that pernicious American influence!).  Now some "artist" has made
a photographic study of British litter--kebab wrappers, to be precise.

I also found In a Sunburned Country to be a hoot.  Much of the first trip Bryson
took followed the precise route I took during a short visit in 1992 (I remember
the giant red lobster most fondly) and I appreciated his cockeyed perspective on
the place and got the impression he loved it as much as I did.  I am in the
middle of reading A History of Almost Everything.  A bit overmuch on DNA and
whatnot, and perhaps not as funny as his other books, but I never find the guy
negative, just a mordantly witty observer.  Maybe that's what English Heritage
wanted.  (I didn't know US citizens could be Commissioners for EH--that's
amusing in and of itself.)

Way off topic, my apologies, I know I should be writing about metrics or brick
crumbs and whatnot, but then the HISTARCH faithful have said it all so well already.

M.