Salisbury was empty and closed. Shop after shop, one street after the other. A city after a hurricane and an English town during a bank holiday aren’t as different from each other as one would expect.

As soon as we saw the cathedral, we did what anybody else would have done and set out to find a pub. We found The New Inn, which was really anything but new. It had everything you want in a pub: ceiling beams, good red ale, hot food, and beautiful young barmaids rating solid sevens and eights on the wench scale, with serious revealing tops, and so much to show, the kind that make old men smile behind their pipes in the utmost satisfaction and say: “ah, the English way of life.”

About a quarter of the villagers was there too: the families, a few couples, and a handful of men in shirts and pullovers who talked about rugby and golf. One of the finer pubs so far.

Ah, the English way of life.