Molasses is a frequent and always helpful commenter on this blog and also at Comment Is Free. Aged 26, he was born in Chiswick, west London and now lives in Balham in the south of the city when he's not lawyering in Budapest. He's also a governor of a Bethnal Green primary school and spends most weekends camping and surfing in North Cornwall and Devon or along the Gower peninsula in south Wales. Frankly, it's a miracle he found the time to write what follows. I'm very glad he did.
This piece would have been a little easier to write if Martin McCallion hadn't attempted to spoil my fun by suggesting I must only write about that that is exclusively English. God knows what is exclusively English. Having lived and travelled outside England I could probably muster a stab at what is not English (the Hungarians wouldn't know a decent breakfast if it hit them in the face) but I'd be at a loss if I had to separate English from Welsh, Scottish or even Irish.I guess it is because the Scots and the Welsh have to some extent defined themselves in contrast to the English, whereas the English, as the dominant nation within the Union, have never felt the need to carve out an identity separate from Britishness. I have therefore decided to deal with the problem by pretending it doesn't exist. I'm just going to do what the English have always done - and claim it all for the English.
A short paean to the North Cornish coast for starters. A landscape of dramatic cliffs, hidden coves, beautiful beaches, a wild and unruly sea and a lush green hinterland – this is something which is definitely English (I am going to ignore Cornish nationalism – I just can't cope). All of it is walkable too – a coastal path runs for its entire length and on any decent stroll you are bound to encounter the English in all their eccentric glory. Ramblers, festooned in more equipment than the average Everest expedition, making short hops from pub to pub along well-trodden paths. Families on beach holidays, parents huddled behind windbreakers sipping tea from thermos flasks as their children paddle in rock pools, hunt for crabs or build sandcastles. No other nation approaches its outdoors with quite the same level of dogged determination.
This determination becomes more understandable if you consider how crowded England is. In 2003 England's population density was about 383 people per square kilometre. That makes us the 24th most crowded country in the world. The only big states ahead of us (that aren't either city states or very small islands) are Bangladesh, South Korea, Taiwan and Holland. It is no wonder Jo Wood feels claustrophobic when she isn't near the sea. It's practically the only big and uncluttered space we have.
Perhaps it is this sheer weight of people living one on top of the other that gives the English many of their other defining characteristics. Our laissez-faire attitude towards our neighbours, our emotional reticence, our tolerance or our politeness for example. We simply have no alternative but to rub along with each other and we employ an array of rhetorical devices just to make sure that we do. From an outsider's perspective we must seem bewilderingly indirect. To break off a conversation we say "I mustn't keep you", to rubbish a suggestion we call it "interesting", "maybe next time" means never and "sorry" can mean pretty much anything. I like this. It is superficial, but somehow it works.
We also remain a curious lot, more open to new influences than most – a small island constantly looking beyond itself. No nationality is more ubiquitous outside its own borders than the English (with the possible exception of the Aussies). The Empire may have imploded but we still see the world as our playground and are fascinated by other cultures. This isn't just an external phenomenon though. England supports an incredible jumble of identities within its borders. Multiculturalism, the plethora of English eccentrics and the way in which a small, politically centralised island produces such a broad array of regional identities are all examples of this. We don't really want people to conform, our differences make life under leaden skies just that little bit more colourful.
I know it is a cliché, but I think the English sense of fair play also deserves a quick mention. This is far more important than winning to most English (we seem to distrust success) and doesn't just apply to sports (in fact it doesn't seem to apply to the Premiership at all). The English are, in general, remarkably averse to corruption and this attitude permeates all levels of our society. I can't really put my finger on it, but I think that it is so refreshing to know that although the system may be riddled with incompetence at least it's not likely to be dishonest.
However, having said all of this, I have to concede that it is, to a large extent, likely to be hubris. Like many of the other contributors to this Big England series, I suspect I really like England because it is home. It is that intangible sense of the familiar. It is where I grew up and it is where my friends and family live – I am rooted to it. I therefore want to paint it in a positive light, I want to romanticise it and see the good in it. To do so makes life just that little bit more settled.
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