We landed at Tampa Airport and walked out into the welcome warm, scented, slightly seaweedy Florida air, so different from the biting cold we'd just left. The shuttle bus driver pronounced himself a great fan of the Tampa Bay Buccaneers, owned by the Glazer brothers, who also own Manchester United. He did not, however, react when the Reds were mentioned. America's real football education still has a way to go.
Driving over the great and spectacular toll bridge that flies south over Tampa Bay, we hit serious fog.
It was like plunging into oblivion. We reached our destination, on which more later, as it was getting beyond dusk, (though two hours lighter than London) the fog, muggy and dripping, closing in on us as we fumbled our way around the dark streets to the house where we were staying. The occasional street lamp glowed yellow in the dark. How could Florida look so Dickensian? But at least it was blissfully warm.