An English Lady Sketching

This is an English lady on holiday, a very proper English lady, of sun hat and sensible shoes. In my imagination, this is a no-nonsense English lady, one of generous form who sketches on holiday, grows hollyhocks and roses in her cottage garden, makes oodles of pots of jam and sings stentoriously of building a new Jerusalem. This is an English lady who wraps her big cardi defiantly round her ample bosom, throws her shoulders back and marches forth confidently in her flat lacing shoes to decimate the enemy. This is the stereotypical English matron. She doesn't exist, of course. But by golly how I wish she did. She's soon sort 'that lot' out, that lot for me wavering variously between the government, the opposition, the media (especially the media), the unions, the bankers, the N.H.S. and idiots who park so badly and so selfishly they take up two parking slots in the supermarket car park. If only she existed. If only... But she doesn't and I can only sigh. And wish...