A good life, a good country.

Today I travelled from a small North Yorkshire village to London and back for a meeting about a pet project.  It wasn’t a socialist-cheap trip, I was mildly irritated by what I had to pay, but it was at a level that irritated but didn’t dissuade.  The trains were all on time, I got wifi internet at my seat on three of my four trains.  Stop and think about that a sec.  Had I (or anyone else) had a heart attack on the train, I am sure that an ambulance would have picked me up from the very next station and taken me to a hopital where I would have had state of the art treatment, free.  I wasn’t mugged or blown up, I spent some time in the British Library, the food was there inn excess and tasty, the water was clean.  I don’t have any water or mosquito-borne diseases.

Britain: it’s good. And sometimes, we damn well need to say so.