A few years ago I embarked on a cultural exchange program with an Alabaman guy I met online. He sent me Twinkies and Moon Pies, grits and hominy, and I sent him Earl Grey tea, Kendal Mint Cake, Eccles cakes, mushy peas, and Marmite. He took the Marmite to work (motorcycle repair shop), passed it round and all the big tough men had a spoonful. Reactions ranged from “it’s ok I guess” to “it tastes like used diesel oil”. When I’d stopped laughing I suggested he try it thinly spread on buttered toast, but he could not be persuaded. The line about Americans and moderation is spot on!
It is Fionn, which is what we named our son (after Fionn McCool). We lived in Ireland but moved to England where we now spell it Finn so as not to cause confusion. The Irish obviously know how to pronounce Fionn but we didn’t want his English teachers calling him Fee-on or thinking he was a girl.
When he’s older he can reclaim it as Fionn :)