When I boarded the tube a few days ago, following a conversation with a friend who is moving to Hong Kong, I began questioning why I am so loyal to ruddy old England. I was surrounded by sweating, angry-looking beings, all of whom were ignoring each other, regardless of the fact that their personal space was being shamelessly invaded. Just when I too was considering a little change of location, I looked up and saw a crazed man looking up at the ceiling and talking to himself. Then I looked down. On his lap, the newspaper was folded - in a very familiar way - so just the crossword and clues were visible.
I'm sticking in England, with my people.