An Englishman Looks at the World Being a Series of Unrestrained Remarks upon Contemporary Matters

An Englishman looks at the world through a series of candid, slightly tongue‑in‑cheek essays that begin with the astonishing sight of Blériot’s airplane soaring over the Channel in 1909. From his garden he watches the white‑capped water and muses on how a single flight upended assumptions about what machines can do, and how quickly the century’s earlier inventions—bicycles, pneumatic tyres, motor cars—have paved the way for flight.

The writer turns the incident into a broader critique of British complacency, comparing the daring French aviator with the slow, flag‑bearing experiments of his own country. He questions whether national pride can survive when progress arrives from abroad, and what it means for commerce, defence and the spirit of invention. The essays blend personal observation, historical context, and a sharp yet humorous call for a more adventurous mindset.