The dog café had a pretty pink sign describing its many services and I stood outside it mesmerised as I realised what it was. I peeked inside and there were dog baskets for the customers to lounge in as they drank their puppuccinos. There are so many things about Britain that are too subtle for me now when I re-enter the atmosphere as an expat. If you filled a café full of barking dogs in rural Ireland, they’d call the men in white coats. Most importantly – and I cannot stress this enough, because I wish someone had warned me – you cannot get a kebab.