Temperama: Big England No.9: by Political Umpire

Political Umpire isn't big on revealing personal details, as he explains on his fine blog Fora. He does reveal a few things about himself, though. You may have guessed that he loves cricket. He is also interested in politics, music, wine, history, philosophy and law, the latter being the line of work he's in. And I think he grew up in New Zealand. There's a clue about that nestling below.

Though born here, I grew up overseas. I had an English father and was subjected to his rantings about a utopian England that even then I found hard to believe existed. Nonetheless, I developed some pride in that part of my heritage, so I used to find myself playing devil's advocate to the England-bashing bien pensants (more on them later, and yes they exist elsewhere as much as here).
I ended up coming here as hundreds of thousands of antipodean professionals did before me, to do the "OE" (overseas experience). I almost quit half way. Staying in a fabulous house owned by relatives in Canada, I watched the Full Monty on their home cinema system. Sheffield looked like hell on Earth compared with Toronto. Luckily, then, as now, I had no plans to visit.

When I finally got here England wasn't really what I expected, but then I did not know what to expect.

First impressions:

- It was hard to get a good perspective on the great landmarks, as so many were surrounded by the inevitable modern crap.

- The slummy parts of London looked even worse in real life than on The Bill.

- The tube was full of weirdos.

- No one seemed to stay in shape: the streets were full of fat slobs and I couldn't find a restaurant with a no-smoking section.

- The post office was full of people - staff and customers - who didn't speak English and others mumbling about getting social security and who seemed to drift around. Didn't they realise I'd sacrificed a very comfortable middle-class existence to be here, as well as taking a huge punt career-wise and stressing out my parents? Clearly they didn't share my dream of England (whatever it was), yet they'd made it here too. They could at least look grateful, I thought.

Eight years on I've got a bit more perspective on the place. I still think London is dirty and overcrowded, but that's because it is dirty and overcrowded. The South Bank has been regenerated to look more or less as I thought it should all along (some cafes and shops, and properly lit at night). I still marvel at the history that is all around and delight in showing friends and relatives the highlights when they visit from back home.

I'm not going to apologise about the Empire - my octogenarian Sri Lankan family friends can't speak highly enough of it and bemoan the mess that was made in their country afterwards. It's not as though other countries don't have dodgy episodes lurking in their past, or that the former colonies were or would have remained pre-lapsarian paradises if the English had stayed at home. And, besides, it was the British Empire.

I can't bring myself to bother with the England rugby team, so Norman Tebbit might want me out, though I do support the England cricket team strongly whenever they aren't playing New Zealand, probably due to reading English cricket magazines and books in my youth. Lords is the epicenture of the cultural universe. I love the way I can travel easily to Europe. That's not really a compliment to England - "a good place to go elsewhere from" - but coming from a place so isolated, ease of travel is something I value highly. English literature (some of) and films (ditto) remain something to cherish. For all that they've fallen off, English public standards remain higher than in most other countries, although visiting the Temple, and other Inns of Court during the course of work is a reminder of what they once were. There isn't the spirit of the Blitz but that's because currently there is no Blitz, despite the worst effort of some religious nutcases.

I guess I will never be a raging patriot, but there is one thing I certainly will never be - one of the chattering classes who think it is their social duty to oppose and denigrate all things English. I refer to the likes of Mayor Livingstone, who invites religious looneys (strange for a socialist, at least George Galloway admitted Islam and socialism agree on many things "except the existence of god" - the devil, so to speak, being in the detail), celebrates every religious event save for Christmas (not "inclusive" enough apparently...), etc etc. England is full of them and always has been. Over a century ago WS Gilbert wrote in the Mikado about he who would never be missed:

"The idiot who praises, with enthusiastic tone,
All centuries but this, and every country but his own."

There are lots of worse places in the world than England, including the south of Spain where so many of Gilbert's idiots like to escape to.