A grumbling bus driver sums up all that is most endearing about our fellow countrymen. Knights Park on the edge of Tunbridge Wells, where the hideous new multi-screen cinema resides smelling of popcorn and flanked by fast food joints and a huge car park, he dismisses as a dump. "There's only one place for a cinema. That's in the centre of the town."When we eventually reach the town centre, he attacks The Council who have transferred a stop from the Town Hall to Monson Road. "The people in there," he says, pointing to the Council Building in Civic Way," move the bus stops just so as to hold up the traffic".
In the hospital waiting room among the names which called is Jane Austen. A middle aged woman responds, not the Jane I think of, who died before we were blessed with the National Health Service and didn't spell her name like the motor car.