You have to imagine that lyric being sung over and over by a 20-something Polish (Swedish? German?) man at the Westbourne Park tube station late on a Sunday night. And then you will know I feel. My heart sings with him, warbly English and all.
There are two main reasons why this sentiment holds true for me: (a) because I am exhilarated every moment to be in a new city, in a foreign country, around people from all over Europe and beyond, to gain a whole new viewpoint, away from the U.S., for perspective; AND/OR (b) the UK has their own versions of Extreme Makeover and Wife Swap.
They do not refrigerate eggs in the stores here. And we are still alive. FYI.
“Pop” is an extremely popular verb. To understand its breadth, imagine, in an English accent, the following:
Postal clerk to customer: “Just pop round to the other window, and I can help you.”
Wife to husband: “I’m just going to pop over to Boots for some mascara.”
Virgin Atlantic flight attendant to Bryan & Yael ONE WHOLE HOUR before descending into Heathrow: “If you could just pop your seat up, and pop the tray table back up, like so, pop that bag under the seat in front of you, and you’re just going to have to pop the pillow in the overhead, and pop this other bag away, and I’m sorry, you’re going to have to pop the blanket behind you because we have to see your seatbelt, and ok good, just pop this arm rest down, and pop the other tray table up, and good, just need you to pop the books over here like this, and if you could just pop your seatbelt on…
I did want to kill her a little bit. And I feel bad about that.
P.S. Pint watch = at least 5!