12:37PM:

I’m in the beer garden of a traditional English pub; traditional, but with a tang of Jamaica about it. I may be drinking a pint of Harvey’s Best, but I’m waiting on a Cajun Chickenburger, surrounded by Jamaican flags and listening to Reggae music. The guy who runs the pub—and does the cooking—did not emigrate from Gothenburg. But he’s a fellow expat, and with better cookery skills.

I’m spending this hot afternoon waiting for my wife, w...