'Here is one of the points about this planet which should be remembered: into every penetrable corner of it, and into most of the impenetrable corners, the English will penetrate. They are like that; born invaders. They cannot stay at home. So that even in the desert heart of hottest Africa you shall see little wigwams bearing the legend "Grand Hotel of London. Five o'clock tea,"and if you visit the Arctic regions, you will find Esquimaux infants babbling broken Anglo-Saxon, and huts inscribed W.C. Every train running over the globe is full of them, and the world's roads, plains and mountains are dense with knapsacked British walkers, burnt brick-red by sun and air.'
Rose Macaulay, Crewe Train, p.12.