Rule Britannia

Several decades ago, I was highly privileged to be born and to grow up in Great Britain. Some folk may refer to it as an accident of birth, while others may label it «Karma». Whatever phenomena occurred and despite being already unwelcome from the moment of my conception by my birth mother, I am proud of my congenital heritage. I had an abhorrent childhood and youth, due to no fault of good old Blighty. And so it was that at age 21, I escaped to Spain to abandon the root of discontent and kick-start a new life. I didn’t plan then never to return as a resident, it simply evolved that way.

I have lived and worked in several other countries in the meantime, with my final destination being in Switzerland, but I have never lost sight of my roots. Most of my work has involved using the English language, and the last twenty years I have upheld her Majesty’s language with pride, working as a translator in the legal sector. I translated for those persons ill-fated enough to have been caught in flagrante, without having had the foresight to master the art of speaking German beforehand. I also coach and teach English for the mostly law-abiding German-speaking souls, who want to widen their horizons.

Now, languages mutate, so I have maintained very close contact with the UK via television, media and internet since the 1990’s, to update this incredible language. It has often impelled me to ponder with gratitude on my UK-State education I received in my local grammar school whilst still a fledgling. The entire country was in post-war recovery modus as we packed 63 pupils into our classroom with two parallel classes of the same size – and it worked, without any major disruptions. There were a number of Jewish children who had fled the horrors in Germany, but as I recall, not a single African or Asian student in the school of 650 pupils. The transformation of my lovely country during the course of my lifetime, speaks volumes about the tolerance and generosity of its citizens.

I have always been proud of my country, wherever I have lived, and I’ve raised my son to feel the same. I have been horrified to hear unqualified little men in Brussels brutally insulting my country to foil Brexit. I have been distraught over several of the recent Prime Ministers, willing to be manipulated by the EU and bending to EU demands. Yet through it all, there was always the hope that some sense of pride in the country would override unethical politicians and globalists, bent on destroying our great nation. The face of Britain has radically changed, even the capital city, but there is still a fundamental allegiance to the basic values. I would like to think that in my own little way, I have been a good ambassador for the country that gave me so much to start me on my way in life. I too have been moved to watch the Trooping of the Colour and to hear Land of Hope and Glory at the Last Night of the Proms. Many of the people who get emotional about these pieces of music are the very ones who were the backbone of the nation, when the UK was under threat of landing up speaking German.

There are now areas of Britain which are unrecognisable as being British and there appears to be a perceptible uprising of dissatisfaction among certain segments of British society. Why, in the name of all that is good, do minority elements need to start an insurgence about old traditions, to appease their sense of boredom and uselessness? Why can’t they just be tolerant to customs they don’t or won’t understand. The latest tragedy about playing Rule Britannia or Land of Hope and Glory is an abject lesson, in how to needlessly upset multitudes of people whose one joy, once a year is to feel the overflowing emotion of pride, patriotism and belonging in this great country. The rebels need to thank their lucky stars that many of the conventional, mature generation paved the way for their lives today.

Photo: Pexels / david jakab