Local history; Adapting to life in Britain; and Ladies Day pix.

I'm staying with friends in a road called Mark Rake in Bromborough. Each of these names is ripe with historical meaning. 'Mark' originates in the grooves made in the red sandstone walls at the top of the road, where archers used to file their arrowheads. 'Rake' is an old Norse word for 'path to the fields' and Bromborough is the site of the important battle of Brunanburh in 937, in which the Anglo-Saxon king, Athelstan, defeated the combined armies of the Vikings and their Irish and Scottish Celtic allies. One historian has described this battle at "the moment when Englishness came of age" - 129 years before some other Scandinavian descendants arrived from Normandy to obliterate it again

I'm getting more and more annoyed by these aspects of UK life:-

People who slow down - or even stop! - so that we don't bump into each other. They deprive me of the pleasure of invading their space and forcing them to stop.

Shopkeepers who go on and on when you ask for something they don't have. "No, we don't have it. Sorry." I don't have time to listen to all this.

Shopkeepers who, even worse, suggest another shop without you asking them to. This smacks of presumption and impertinence to me.

Worst of all, shopkeepers who suggest they order the item for you. It's none of their business whether I want this done or not. If I do, I'll bloodywell ask!

Cars who always stop at zebra crossings, depriving me of the chance to play 'chicken'.

All in all, it's place where many of life's pleasures are taken away from you. No fun at all. And, as every Spaniard knows, fun is the whole purpose of life.

Finally . . . If you really want to look at the outfits of Ladies' Day at Aintree yesterday, you can do so here, here, and here. Sad to say, The Daily Mail also records a fight that took place before astonished spectators. Allegedly.