favourably impressed

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little britain at its best in this curious museum of small wonders. 
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though the characters are real life people, and not some lanky men in drag, walking these few rooms ...
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... and enjoying afternoon tea served in the orangery, make for an unexpected if traditional venture. 
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the lady at the till enlightening me on the pleasures of a fan, ...
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... blinking eyes like only are you being served mister humphries ever could, starting up her story again as she concludes it. 
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do you follow? 
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her very eyes reminding me of the peacock pride.
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the man at reception playing double act as a terribly jolly and queer tea tender. 
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baritone voice raw from nicotine smoke. 
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as the orangery is frugally chilly, despairingly and insufficiently hotted up by a heat fan, {fan!}, the inside tenor is enhanced by a gardener's struggle with an electric leaf blower.
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a thought befalls me, as i munch away. 
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how small venues such as the greenwich fan museum can hold up to the national maritime museum just round the corner, is beyond me. 
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perhaps english eccentricity is key here? ☻
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