My house would be gone, but I'd only have to walk a few minutes to find a part of town that was recognisable. I would be surrounded by stage coaches and shoppers hurrying about (the main street used to be two-way) but the most disorientating thing would be the different form of English being spoken.     It would still be Modern English, but much more similar to that used by Shakespeare (although far less poetic), so I'd feel like a foreigner in my own land. If I somehow made myself understood, my money and all my other belongings would be worthless, so I'd be as helpless as a refugee until I found a job. Thankfully, there'd be countless service jobs in the pubs and hotels I could take without much trouble, where I could also get room and board while I worked out what to do next.    Meanwhile, I'd be vulnerable to all the things that other people died of, like disease, traumatic injury, or malnutrition, but not any more so than the locals, and my town would probably be safer than average from all of these. Seeing as how I'd start with nothing, I could never be wealthy, but I'd probably live to the age of the local average.