I know I've lived daaarn saaarf for just over two years, but I still run into things occasionally that make me think I'm living on a different planet to where I grew up - God's own country - the North.
I mean, crikey, £14.50 for a flipping hair-cut?
And yes I did go to a barber, rather than what my mother would often malappropriately (though perhaps accurately) call a bisexual hair-dresser.
The opening times seem somewhat different in sleepy Essex too. Back in the old country I could head out at half seven and get a haircut. Such is the way of the barbarous North.
But here I was thwarted at eight of the clock and had to venture out again at ten. Oh well, I shouldn't complain, at least I got a hair cut without catching rickets or some such northern malady.
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And don't go believing you're in the south - Essex is still up north. From down here (in the true south), anyone north of the post office is a foreigner