Just returned from annual hols to the mother country, insulated from the savage East Coast wind by an extra layer of lard from too many pints, pies and ultra-fat cream. As usual, England impresses as a country teeming with would-be entrepreneurs. Half the people you meet have got some idea for a short-cut, a scam or a start-up; or know someone who’s already doing what you’ve been thinking about on the plane over. It’s like going to Ireland and asking the cabbie for a bookshop recommendation (you’ll wind up feeling like you’ve been hanging out with James Joyce’s brother-in-law), except ...