From the minute we passed through the UK border, we've had smiles all the way. The man who checked our passports did it with a smile, the lady working on the Heathrow Express helped us carry our bags onto the train with a smile. The staff at the hotel were extra smiley, and even the cleaner stopped and chatted to us with a smile from ear to ear.
And it didn't stop there - the man who gave us our train tickets to Devon insisted on giving Rhett his own personal ticket, writing 'Rhett's Ticket' in bold letter across it, and when the ticket inspector came along the carriage, he chirpily clipped it with a big happy smile.
I haven't seen this vision of our great nation since Gary Lineker returned from overseas... it's like the public service workforce have been given drugs, and are actually enjoying their jobs. And it's no bad thing - it's truly lovely to be back home because of it.
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