England, their England
It's something of a tradition that we return to Eng-ger-lnd on the boat over the Twinkletree Timeout (which apparently these days lasts a full two(2) weeks, which is frankly about a week and a half too long for our tastes).
It's been eight(8) years since we stopped living there and it is now starting to feel like Abroad, and that's just fine. It was in an extravagantly multiplexed motorway service-station on the way home, where the children were tucking into their McDonalds' Nasty Meals while I was savouring the home comforts of tarka dal and sag aloo from another kiosk that I officially gave up trying to assimilate the country to the one I used to live in.
(In the Netherlands, service stations are still full of Soviet Samwidges and turnstiled pay-toilets that give you a receipt you can use for a discount except you forgot to pee before your coffee so you won't actually get a discount, which is what they were counting on in the first place. On the drive home from the boat on the Dutch side we didn't bother to stop.)