The greatness of Britain revealed

The family is now back in Japan for the Easter break and so that the missus can start the house-hunting process. We had the very rare opportunity on Sunday night for a “night off” from my stepdaughter, so I booked a hotel in Windsor and we spent most of yesterday wandering around the town and the castle. I know I spend most of my time railing against the British government and the state of the country. But at my heart, the pride of being British and being part of that great heritage is something that even Brown and his marxist jackals can’t erase. Windsor, with its history and its associations, is almost like a tangible expression of that collective pride. As we approach the end of our time in England, I’m really keen to try and get across to the missus that sense of what being British is all about. It’s not all drunken yobs, high taxes and third-world health services; there is still some thing special here.

Windsor is a very pretty town. Although it suffers from the same identi-kit high street syndrome as every other town in the land, there is enough uniqueness to make it an interesting place to wander around. Even more so, crossing the bridge into Eton was like stepping into another world. The cash machine is Coutts & Co.; the shops sell morning dress, handmade shirts and all sorts of gentleman’s finery. I was struck by the influence that this little place has had on the history of the country – from the long line of ex Prime Ministers to today’s great and good. Elitist? Probably. But in the recent words of Ed Balls, “So what?” I am glad that such bastions still exist against the rise of Brown’s marxist utopia.

Of course, no trip to Windsor can be complete without a tour of the castle. The state rooms are an absolute treasure trove of armaments and booty liberated from the evil grasp of Johnny Foreigner over hundreds of years and a good proportion of the globe. The staggering opulence of the rooms and their decor serves to remind the visitor of the very real power that this country once exercised over the world. As we walked around, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of smug satisfaction about what we as a nation have achieved; about a history and heritage unmatched by any other nation on Earth. Perhap the position of Britain in today’s world is a bit comparing Eton High Street with today’s universal UK high street; seemingly, rather old-fashioned and anacranistic, but cradling within it a set of values, knowledge and culture that have survived centuries of change and will continue to do so. Despite the corrosive efforts of traitorous politicians, despite the cultural confusion created by multi-culturism, and despite a changing world order, each of us can feel proud that we all share within us a little bit of Eton and a little bit of the riches of Windsor castle.

We can feel proud that we have contributed something to the world of lasting value. Proud, not in a nationalistic sense, but with the humble satisfaction of a job well done. I really hope that by exposing the missus to our heritage, she might pick up a sense of what being British means to me. But I think maybe it’s something that, like a place at Eton, remains the preserve of the favoured few.

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