I really hate those 'a brit in Provence/Spain/Italy etc' books. There's something so objectionable about the self-important way the writers try to show how they've suddenly become the world's leading authority on where they've moved to within days of moving there despite knowing about three to five words in the language, how they've become something of a self-appointed celebrity, how, guffaw guffaw, it's a far cry from Surrey or somewhere, how the locals have the audacity not to speak fluent English etc.
I wonder how a 'Romanian in England' book would go down, in which the funny looking locals were satirised and general language misunderstanding laughs flowed like warm eggy beer. Probably not very well.
Anyway, so, here they are, my blog posts about being an Englishman in Estonia! Something to look backward to already...
Supersedes previous passenger sheet.
4 hours ago