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English: A Story of Marmite, Queuing and Weather. Ben FogleЧитать онлайн книгу.

English: A Story of Marmite, Queuing and Weather - Ben Fogle


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       COPYRIGHT

      William Collins

      An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers

      1 London Bridge Street

      London SE1 9GF

       WilliamCollinsBooks.com

      This eBook first published in Great Britain by William Collins in 2017

      Text copyright © Ben Fogle 2017

      Photographs © Individual copyright holders

      Cover photograph © Simon Warren

      Ben Fogle asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

      A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

      All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

      Source ISBN: 9780008222284

      Ebook Edition © October 2017 ISBN: 9780008222260

      Version: 2018-02-21

      CONTENTS

       COVER

       TITLE PAGE

       COPYRIGHT

       PROLOGUE

       INTRODUCTION: LIVING ENGLISHLY

       Chapter One: WHATEVER THE WEATHER

       Chapter Four: STRAWBERRIES AND CREAM

       Chapter Five: MAD DOGS AND ENGLISHMEN

       Chapter Six: WELLIES, WAX, BARBOURS AND BOWLERS

       Chapter Seven: THE SILLY SEASON

       Chapter Eight: OO-ER, MISSUS, IT’S LORD BUCKETHEAD

       Chapter Nine: RAINING CATS AND DOGS

       Chapter Ten: THE QUEEN’S SANDMAN AND SWANMAN

       Chapter Eleven: I’M SORRY, I HAVEN’T A QUEUE

       Chapter Twelve: GRUB

       Chapter Thirteen: ENGLAND’S GREEN AND PLEASANT LANDS

       Chapter Fourteen: THE WORD

       Chapter Fifteen: TEA AND SYMPATHY

       CONCLUSION

       PICTURE SECTION

       INDEX

       ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

       ABOUT THE AUTHOR

       ABOUT THE PUBLISHER

       PROLOGUE

      There was a hubbub of excited chatter as, clutching steaming cups of tea, the women gathered around a series of small tables to admire the spoils of war. The Great Yorkshire Show had just finished and the crochet, patchwork, flower arranging and cakes had all ‘come home’. There was a general chatter of approval. The room was decorated with bunting and it had the air of a village fete. This was Jam and Jerusalem.

      I was in Harrogate, North Yorkshire, for the weekly gathering of the Spa Sweethearts Women’s Institute. The WI, as it is known, was formed in 1915 to revitalize communities and encourage women to produce food in the absence of their menfolk during the First World War. Since then it has grown to become the largest voluntary women’s organization in the UK, with more than six thousand groups and nearly a quarter of a million members.

      The Queen herself is a member, and the WI, in my humble opinion, understands better than any other organization how the country works. Always polite, it has a reputation for no-nonsense, straight talking. The chairwoman of the WI’s public affairs committee, Marylyn Haines-Evans, recently said, ‘If the WI were a political party, we would be the party for common sense.’ If anyone understands the quixotic essence of Englishness, it is the ladies who attend these regional WI gatherings.

      I chose the location carefully too. Popular with the English elite during the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, during the Second World War, government offices were relocated from London to the North Yorkshire town and it was designated the stand-in capital should London fall during the war. It frequently wins the Britain in Bloom competition and has been voted one of the best places to live in the UK. It is what I would call a solid Yorkshire town. The combination of Harrogate and the WI is, I think, the perfect English ‘brew’.

      I had come along to one of the WI’s evening gatherings to find out what Englishness means to them. Rather uncharacteristically, I was a little nervous as I walked to the stage in the small hall. I had brought my labrador, Storm along as an icebreaker and for some moral support, and together we made our way to the centre of the stage.

      It was a relatively small gathering, perhaps fifty strong, but these women have solid values and in my mind they are the voice of England. Ignoring the jingoistic reverence that a national sporting event or royal occasion generates,


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