St George's Day

 St George's Day

Today was meant to be a day that was somehow quintessentially and properly, a celebration of Englishness, an unashamed homage to patriotism, expressing everything that is stereotypically English and perhaps a good enough reason to highlight all the good qualities and values that make being British or English so important to those who live in the United Kingdom.

And yet on the very day we should be high fiving the literary exploits of William Shakespeare whose birthday it is today as well, nothing of any real cultural significance happened anywhere. Instead, this afternoon in London, the capital city became altogether too controversial, heated, inflammatory and impassioned. Not for the first time in its illustrious history, London became the centre of political demonstrations, powerful voices, vocal discord and pointless protests. There was also trouble so there was no change on that front.

It was supposed to be St George's Day, a day reserved for good, old fashioned English qualities such as reserve, restraint, dignity, modesty and reticence since England somehow refuses to get excited about the kind of things it has always excelled at. England loves its pomp and ceremony, its royal family, red pillar post boxes, vicars on bicycles, church services on a Sunday, jumble sales, large marrows at village fetes, strawberries and beetroots at the height of summer and its general jollity when somebody mentions tea and cake with just a biscuit or two.

But this afternoon Tommy Robinson, an alleged troublemaker and passionate campaigner on behalf of anything that defies the Establishment, got all busy and started shouting the odds. Soon his supporters were in confrontation mode with the police, loud mouthed and aggressive, posturing and threatening the peace before pushing, shoving, provoking, finger jabbing and then, to quote the popular vernacular, getting stuck in. Soon fists were flying, provocative banners were being held proudly and suddenly all hell seemed to be breaking loose.

And so it was that St George's Day, which should have been a day for dancing around maypoles and rolling cheeses down British hillsides, became a scene of ugly crime. It was no longer a day of peace and tranquillity, for flying the Union Jack and singing all the way down to Piccadilly Circus and gathering at Eros for another convivial knees up. It was now a day of sinister nationalism, vaguely racist overtones and something much more uncomfortable and disagreeable. 

So rather than extolling the virtues of British identity and everything we've come to cherish about Britain, its lovable eccentricity at times perhaps we should also wax lyrical about its expertise, its competence, the renowned skills it has never been afraid to boast about. Of course Britain loves its beer, alcohol, its arts and crafts, the artisans who make their vases, cups and bowls, the pottery that almost comes naturally to this fair island. Britain doffs its cap to village blacksmiths, its silk weavers and a manufacturing heritage that perhaps it should be doing much more to acknowledge but almost takes for granted.

Regrettably though the harsh reality is that St George's Day has now passed off without any event or incident, not so much as a whimper, murmur or commotion. What we had in its place was some pathetic individual with a Tannoy speaker, barking out political mumbo jumbo that sounded vaguely nonsensical. Robinson kept referring to the mainstream political parties as useless entities who simply weren't serving Britain effectively.

And so today St George's Day just lingers in isolation as one of those days that is just considered as another working day with no sense of  self congratulation and no recognition of its historic achievements. We will of course remember the great poet and playwright who radically changed the landscape of medieval theatre for ever with Macbeth, the Merchant of Venice, Hamlet, Othello, Romeo and Juliet and innumerable masterpieces that broke so many boundaries for centuries to follow.

So to William Shakespeare it's another happy birthday and anniversary and St George's Day. It may not feel like it but one day Britain may wake up and realise that it can remember what day it really is. It is April 23rd and we can still make a fuss about St George's Day so if the rest of the world can treat their days as those of rejoicing and celebration then so can we.