That was me, Jono, and Ashok the other day.  What happened next I'd love to recount, but there has been a stunning lack of wireless access (or at least my ability to find it) so far on this trip.  Other stuff I want to write about:

England's new law creating an "exclusion zone" in which free speech is banned in the vicinity of Parliament.

The crazy levels of armament inside Windsor Palace, essentially a visual confession that vast fortunes only accrue at the point of a gun.

The all-star cricket benefit for the tsunami victims, during which I was surrounded by a variety of ecstatic South Asians, one of whom briefly loaned me his child (nice story, that).

Wimbledon, which turns out to be one of the more egalitarian major sports events on Earth.

Taking cricket batting and bowling practice at Lord's, which is akin to getting to play catch in the bullpen in Yankee Stadium.

What the ground smells like after a U2 concert.  (Hint: the answer isn't "rain".)

Shakespeare's Globe, a near-perfect replica of the 16th century theatre in which performers in period dress transport you to another era... except for when they have to shout over the airplanes on approach to Heathrow.

First-hand evidence that my forebears were mostly a bunch of drunks.

And a lot of other stuff.

But I am now in Denmark, where roughly 4 million people look like Sigourney Weaver at her most beautiful, even the men, despite subsisting entirely on a diet of cinnamon rolls and pork.

This may be because all Danes are also required to ride bicycles for at least nine hours per day, even if they have nowhere to go.  (I'm riding one right now, in fact.)  This somehow also compensates for the fact that everyone smokes here, including infants and dogs.

Many of the dogs also look like Sigourney Weaver.

Headed further east shortly.

But the cafe I'm in has a Scandanavian-style keyboard with multiple shift keys and I am typing at a rate normally only made possible through severe nerve damage.

Please stand by.