The upbeat attitude of seemingly all Americans everywhere is beginning to seriously irritate me. A brief foray into a shop today to browse through the discounted lingerie in the hope of sexing myself up a little had me gritting my teeth with barely suppressed rage after about 10 minutes. All that "how are you today?", "can I help you with anything?" and, even worse, if I dare to mutter out a negative, "oh I love your accent" makes me want to swear ferociously and even spittingly, up close, and in their faces. Honestly, the next time someone comes out with some bland and patently false enquiry as to my general well being, I might actually punch them.

Back in England, I was able to sate my periodic (actually, make that pretty much permanent) bouts of hatred towards coyly gushing members of the human race, aka PRs, by dint of my job - as journalist and therefore necessary continuation of their livelihoods. On being asked by some hapless press officer if I had received their press release on, say, anti cruelty to hamsters week it gave me the greatest pleasure to ask them, in icy tones, if they had ever actually read the publication they were calling, and then to inform them, in even more glacial terms, that it was something we were not, and would never be, remotely interested, before cutting them off abruptly by putting the phone down. My inner bitch received lessons in the art of PR handling from an occasionally stunningly abusive colleague, whose put downs had reached legendary status in the office.

Out here, however, the inner bitch has had to be firmly leashed. Because, not only am I no longer in my previous position of power, but I am an ambassador for my country, a virtual flag-bearing embodiment of all that it is to be British. And while one could argue that a fierce bout of rudeness would not be an inaccurate representation of the standard Brit, I have to live here for the next two years, and feel that at this stage of the game, to earn myself a reputation as a foul-mouthed harridan would not do me any favours. Not to mention the fact that the Major gets cross with me when I'm rude, and as I am currently reliant on him for cash, I would do best not to irritate him either.

So I am stuck with grinding my teeth as quietly as possible, looking into anger management lessons and maybe trying to learn a few lessons from our friends across the pond about politenes...expect gushing blandismhments next time you see me.