They can't get that many Brits over here. They go nuts as soon as you talk!

It really started in 29 Palms. Someone asked me what sort of tinned tuna they should buy, and I replied "the kind in water". Well, that was it. "War-tar, war-tar, war-tar" they chanted (in a nice way!). Then at the checkout the cashier asked me for ID, and then exclaimed "Oh, you're from England?". Cue another lady in the queue pushing herself forward to tell me she was born in Cambridge. "That's nice." Then I get a gaggle of them asking when I moved here (not many people holiday in the desert!) and wishing me a happy birthday. Sweet!

People keep telling us that London must be amazing, especially when it snows. (Errrrrrrrr, NO!)

Last night, our waitress Mindy practically sat on Grumpy's lap just because she wanted to chat. She'd just seen the movie 'The Queen' and has decided that all Brits must be like Dame Helen Mirren! She was so sweet, I wanted to bring her home with me. Another ticket would be expensive, so I just gave her a big tip!

The petrol pumps here want you to put your credit card and ZIP code in before they'll dispense. We don't have a ZIP code, so every time I have to go inside with the card and ask them to let us have gas. As soon as I open my mouth they wanna ask me about England.

And just popping into the shop for some milk last night took an age. I asked someone where the milk was, and they insisted on explaining all the different types and sizes and how they liked to drink it.

Something tells me Vegas will be a bit more impersonal. I'm kinda ready for that now!