Her Majesty, Mei Zhu

Watch out Kate Middleton, there's a new Highness in town. If Mei knew Price William came attached to these digs, she might reconsider her " lame, he's bald" assessment. Anyway, receding royal hairlines notwithstanding, there's no better place to kick off a whirlwind tour of England than with a morning jaunt around the grounds of the impressive Windor Castle, located conveniently within a few miles of Heathrow.

It seems even the toys are taller than Mei in these parts.

How do you recognize when someone is a nobody in the UK? Why their phone hasn't been hacked, of course.

Where's the drawbridge? Oh I get it, these days all you need to keep the Scottish out is that 20 quid ticket turnstile back at the entrance.

Having breached the outer walls without so much as a scratch, now seems an opportune time to launch the final assault on the keep. No time for a drawn out siege when the parking meeting is counting down.

Another poorly defended door. No room in the latest austerity budget for vats of boiling oil.

Hmmm... is anyone else getting the feeling this is more of a lavish country estate than an impregnable fortress? Of course, calling it the former is hardly a good way to get the British taxpayer to fork over for the upkeep.

Remarkably, it's autumn in England and the sun is still up. It's also not raining. Maybe this side of the Atlantic isn't so bad after all.

"We will unite the white rose and the red: —Smile heaven upon this fair conjunction, That long have frown'd upon their enmity!" - Henry, Earl of Richmond, scene V, Richard III. Thank goodness for Google, now even those who have forgotten their high school Shakespeare can come up with a quotable quote.

The spacious grounds come complete with their own cathedral, not to mention three different gift shops. Mercifully all the William and Kate fine china has already been shipped out to the Tesco bargain bins.

A reminder that times have changed a little since these ancient walls went up. Walls that once shook to the trampling of a thousand armored feet now shake to the tune of four Rolls Royce RB211-524H turbofans, as yet another Speedbird Heavy lines up for short finals to Heathrow.

What did you expect, bows and arrows? Sorry folks, the bad guys these days don't do us the honor of lining up in shiny armor emblazoned with garishly colored coats of arms.

It's hard to get over the fact that it's not grey and miserable. And that everyone is not inside watching Coronation Street. The latter much to Mei's disappointment.

Next stop, Stonehenge. Actually, it's not really a stop because Team J00ster pretty much just drove by. Sure there's something mysterious about a bunch of stones sitting in an intriguing pattern in the middle of a field, but come on folks, it's not the Potala Palace or Machu Picchu.

Mei: "Lame, so much smaller than expected". Rock: "You say that a lot about rocks".

So after a quick photo, it's on to bigger and better things, with bigger being the operative word. The World Heritage listed town of Bath certainly fits the bill.

These balloonists have the right idea: apparently the best way to see the unique rows of Georgian houses is from above.

Mei's attempt to follow their example falls a little short. Still, the Royal Crescent in the background is pretty impressive, even if the athletic feat in the foreground isn't.

Compared to London or New York, these townhouses are a real steal.

The main square is dominated by the lavish Bath Abbey and the ancient Roman Baths, both of which are worth a closer look, even for those whose idea of history is the Recently Visited website list on the iPad.

Out an about in the old town. Remarkable, it's still not raining. Talk about false advertising.

The Pulteney Bridge continues the classic English tradition of cramming as much as you possibly can onto a narrow bridge.

Nice to see something other than the ubiquitous red hop-on-hop-off tourist buses. Even if the clientele are in fact exactly the same,

The cozy interior of Jamie's Italian. As in Jamie Oliver. Unfortunately the food, whilst probably better than the typical British drivel that he saves his juiciest swearwords for, is a bit underwhelming.

Day two in Bath dawns... wait for it... bright and sunny. This really is throwing off all the British stereotypes. Which sucks, because as everyone knows, this blog pretty much trades exclusively in cheap stereotypes. Speaking of which, here is the Bath Cricket Club. It doesn't get much more British than that.

The main canal was once a bustling commercial artery. Actually it still is, only now the cargo is tourists instead of hogs. So in fact nothing has changed.

Bucolic English countryside at its best. Which is a good thing, because at its worse it's pretty downright depressing.

Back in the olde town. You can tell how old it is because all the shops have an extra "e" in the old.

Given it's a Sunday, the abbey won't be opening until after the morning service. Which gives plenty of time to check out the famous Roman Baths.

In case the name didn't give it away, these should give you a clue as to who built these baths. Nothing like a relaxing soak in steaming mineral waters after bashing and subjugating some local tribesmen.

Rock, in all his wisdom, insisted on packing bathing suits, just in case someone decided that letting hordes of tourists take a dip in a century-old architectural treasure was a good idea.

So much for diving in, you're not even allowed to touch the water.

In addition to baths, it seems the town is also famous for fudge. Which, unlike the baths, you can actually partake in.

Inside the Abbey. The difference between an abbey and a cathedral is a little elusive to the untrained eye.

The scriptures always carry more punch when delivered from the back of a fearsome bird of prey. Beware ye sinners!

Last shots of Bath. Next up it's a week of work, before J00ster returns for an encore on the following weekend. In the meantime, you could go and read something a bit more highbrow, like say the NY Post.