Bill Bryson's travelogues have been tempting me from the bookshelves at Brisbane airport's bookshop for the last few years. Eventually, in a moment of weakness, I succcumbed and bought one - 'Notes from a Small Island'. Any book that warns you that you'll emit noisy guffaws while reading it is a bit of a worry but, pleasingly, I did have to suppress more than a few smirks and giggles on the plane and that's about as publicly demonstrative as I get at the best of times.
The book really struck a chord in me, from Bryson's criticism of the UK's modern architectural monstrosities through to his commentary on the processes which have turned Great Britain into simply, Britain. OK, so I had a good nostalgic wallow in this shameless account of all that was Great about Great Britain but so much of it reminded me of my formative years in the UK that I was instantly hooked and loved it. So much so that I'm now into the sister volume on Australia, 'Down Under'.