I loved that Notes from a Small Island transported me from the couch to Great Britain. I hated that Bill Bryson, at his grumpy and condescending worst, was my travel companion. Ah, I need a cup of tea.“To this day, I remain impressed by the ability of Britons of all ages and social backgrounds to get genuinely excited by the prospect of a hot beverage.”Bryson wanders across the UK, from Dover to John O’Groats, commenting on guesthouses, city designs and British culture, while delivering lengthy tirades along the way. Most chapters find him sheltering from downpours in pubs and cafes. Occasionally, he shares his trademark facts about a place, but his constant whining usually follows.“Goodness me! What an outburst! Let’s lighten up and go look at some good things.”Even Bryson finds his complaining akin to “tedious bleating” and seems astounded by his own outbursts. It’s like reading one long, endless complaint; he’s grumpier and more aggressive than usual. He’s also sexist, ridicules those with Asperger’s, partakes in body shaming, and “aches” to kick a small dog, “just to see how far it could go.”Bryson is continually rude and condescending to wait staff and tourism workers. He’s an obnoxious tourist, that despite having lived in the UK for years, visits the likes of McDonald’s in Edinburgh, where he rudely complains some more. He ambles around by himself in the day, gets drunk by himself at night, and curses society, places he visits, and everything else in life for not meeting his unrealistic expectations. So, what kept me going? The fact it was depicting Great Britain, a place I have connection to, a fondness for, and immense desire to see. Perhaps, because of this, I found myself jotting down place names in hopes of visiting and maybe even comparing them to how much has changed since these 90s descriptions. Favourite chapters included Windsor, Dorset, the Cotswolds and Scotland. Bryson captured the beauty of these places well, and his enthusiasm for protecting it was admirable. At times it felt like an episode of Great British Railway Journeys. I half-expected Bill to bump into Michael Portillo at one of the many stations. “I can remember when you couldn’t buy a British Rail sandwich without wondering if this was your last act before a long period on a life-support machine.”Thankfully, he succeeded in making me chuckle occasionally, and sometimes his tangents landed well. I was amazed by the amount of history on display in every day Britain. I particularly enjoyed his visit to a Roman mosaic in the Cotswolds. “I don’t know what seized me more, the thought that people in togas had once stood on this floor chatting in vernacular Latin or that it was still here, flawless and undisturbed, amid this tangle of growth.”Such moments were fleeting, however, before he returned to rants about shopping centres, architecture and urbanisation. Repeatedly reminiscing about his journalism days was boring too - I don’t read travel books to learn about office jobs, Bill!Aspects haven't aged well – whether it be outdated statistics, certain remarks, or a surprising reference to my city of Hobart (10,000 miles away) that no longer holds true. While I previously enjoyed the work of Bill Bryson, I feel mixed about Notes from a Small Island. Guess I just need to hurry up and experience these places for myself! Bryson’s final words sum up the conflicting nature of the book.“Suddenly, in the space of a moment, I realised what it was that I loved about Britain - which is to say, all of it.”