A Pean for Little England

I attended the Somerset Steam and Country Show this weekend. Not that this is in any way controversial – it’s a celebration of our industrial and rural past and a fun day out if you are a transport geek. Like Fred Dibnah, I love the sound, smell and sight of steam locomotion and there was plenty there to stir the senses – not to mention classic cars, bikes, trucks and tractors. So, yeah, I’m a transport geek.

We were given a flavour of past glories and in the heat of a summer Sunday afternoon, there was much to enjoy. What struck me though was how this contrasted with the way our country is going. This little pageant was at odds with the multicultural cities where the metropolitan elite dwell and from whence they sneer with undisguised contempt at England and the English.

As I listened to the unashamed Christian (yes, I know, pagan roots) blessing of the plough ceremony – which, being a non believer , should have passed me by, I found myself reflecting on our culture and our past. Across the valley, nesting in a fold of the Mendips, below a cloudless blue sky, I could see a church tower and fluttering above, the flag of St George (racist, we are told). Surrounded as I was by the epitome of Englishness, I basked in the atmosphere and felt for those few hours divorced from the spite of the left and their attempts to sweep away the culture of my country, for here it was in all its unashamed glory.

Oh, I don’t doubt for one minute that the London elite, festering like germ warfare in the offices of the Guardian, with their leftist sense of misplaced superiority would have noticed the lack of diversity (not one hijab, not one BAME), the wealth of Gammons and sneered at the little Englanders reliving a long lost past. But, y’know, I don’t care because those epithets have lost their capacity to sting. For so long have we been accused of being racists, xenophobes and bigoted little Englanders, that I feel we might just as well wear the badge and be damned, for the epithets tell us more about the utterer than the target.

For a few glorious hours in the sunshine over Somerset, there was a little celebration of all that is good about England and the English, and I enjoyed very moment and make no apology for it.

 

11 Comments

  1. You forgot to resize the picture at the top before uploading it; it was quite interesting watching it load, just like the good old dial-up days 😉

  2. celebration of our…. rural past

    You mean like rickets, incest, starvation, polio, workhouses, sun-to-sun backbreaking work, burying several of your kids before they could even start school and doffing your cap at the Lord of Manor as he drove past in another fine bit of British engineering *toot* *toot*?

    Not wanting to rain on your Steam Parade (and I get ‘it’ I really do) but our rural past in the time of traction engines , according to my Great Grandparents (who worked with such things) was nothing that should be celebrated. Even in the 70s I can recall meeting Ol’Bors of the village who’d lost limbs to traction engine driven farming things. Bit hard to undo Rosie’s dress with one hand or open that flagon of cider.

      • Of course, the engineering was impressive and as a one time mechanic student I am aware that steam came very very close to winning the argument. Indeed, I am told, that come the Zombie Apocalypse (or Brexit)….

  3. I used to love traction engine rallies as a kid. I once remember attending a demonstration of steam ploughing which was truly spectacular. Because traction engines were so heavy, it wasn’t practical for them to pull a plough in the way that modern tractors do. The engine had a massive drum of steel cable slung underneath it and they worked in pairs pulling the plough back and forth between them. When the engine revved up to take its turn pulling the plough the ground shook.

    I don’t think that there is anything wrong with indulging in a bit of nostalgia, as long as we aren’t totally blinded by our rose tinted specs. I still think that the modern world is good too in spite of the depressing politics. It is nice to have a car that I don’t have to spend most of my free time fixing while the bodywork turns a reddish brown before my very eyes. The technology is wonderful too, my Garmin sports watch is so totally brilliant it blows my mind.

    I’m trying not to get wound up by the fact that this same technology wants me to misspell plough as plow.

    • Indeed. I spent a few hours enjoying the presence of these old machines. The BSA C15 and Ariel Arrow took me back. Would I swap my modern bikes? Would I buggery.

  4. For a few glorious hours in the sunshine over Somerset, there was a little celebration of all that is good about England and the English, and I enjoyed very moment and make no apology for it.

    I wish I’d been there. I love England/UK and engines be they coal/steam, ice, jet, rocket, nuclear.

    I loathe the unrepresentative London/BBC bubble “Polly Ts”

  5. “Across the valley, nesting in a fold of the Mendips, below a cloudless blue sky, I could see a church tower and fluttering above, the flag of St George (racist, we are told). Surrounded as I was by the epitome of Englishness, I basked in the atmosphere and felt for those few hours divorced from the spite of the left and their attempts to sweep away the culture of my country, for here it was in all its unashamed glory”

    Oh, you lucky, lucky man. What an evocative picture you paint. How wonderful.

  6. “…For so long have we been accused of being racists, xenophobes and bigoted little Englanders, that I feel we might just as well wear the badge and be damned…”

    Spot on!

  7. “For so long have we been accused of being racists, xenophobes and bigoted little Englanders, ”

    I’d think that the engineers, steel-workers, spanners etc would have told any leftie snowflake and sjw to piss off and get real. The design and manufacture of these leviathons was carried out by proper people, not cloud-watchers, living in Bloomsbury.

    Lucky you, I’d have gone back for the second day!

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