So the first Englishman I talked to on this trip was the driver that went to pick me up at Heathrow. His name is Ken and he drives a Volvo sedan with cream leather interior. Nice.
The 30-minute chit-chat on the way to Harpenden is, as expected anywhere in the world, revolving around weather, football and beer. So the weather is dreadful (it really is, I have to say) in spite of the pilot of my plane affirming it was a 'mildly warm' (sic) morning in London at amazing 12 degrees - yay.
The conversation got going when he noticed I really followed the Premiership. While I got into details of Liverpool's weekend match against Boro, he remarked that he doesn't really follow the first division which, in his words, is getting 'wretched by money'. His football passion was actually League Two (fourth division), in which his hometown team played: Wycombe Wanderers.
Ken also convinced me that Magners cider was the best British drink at the time. I had no argument at first, but later conceded. It is great. Much better than Blackthorne which was till this trip my favorite cider, but which now I rate as too 'gazzy'.