Your sunflower hat will never do in this environment, nor the hue of hubris under such a modest son, said Cynthia's niece in the garden of the Queen. Be considerate at least, she droned, scanning yours of Thursday last inveighing against sunstruck missionaries with their burning throats and sticky eyelashes. Never will you know where their fingers have been and the blessing of the gargle may preserve their songs for our descendants: good clean boys with Eton collars and navy shorts. Pretension is ours, I responded in kind, no way no how will our brows be beaten or sunburned under cloudsome Oxford's sky. Our shoes will outlast your Scottish brogues and York's hills will not defeat our feet. Toes forward is the best bet I would say for climbing the higher Hollywood Mountain in Vegas not in LA where surely birkenstocks would make our day and snakeskin girdled grenadiers lead us to the desert storm where it would not do to drink cactus water before sunset as every Englishman (sic) of any station well knows and as for me I eschew all head gear preferring that which God has given to protect my head from melanoma and rashes too. Lovely to meet so unexpectedly. Good day.