Forgetting St George
Quite tellingly, it had almost completely passed me by that yesterday was St George’s day. It certainly doesn’t get any attention this side of the pond: no parades, nobody dressing in red and white and proclaiming their English ancestry, no beers ruined with lurid colouring.
I like that it’s this quiet day we don’t really bother with too much. While there has been a recent groundswell of support for making more of St George’s day with numerous calls for turning it into an official holiday of national celebration, I don’t think we need to go overboard in revamping how we celebrate. Maybe we could revive the tradition where people would wear a red rose in their lapel on St George’s day, that’d make everyone look dapper. And maybe all children in school should be given a free pint of real English ale, but that’s about it. Let’s leave those loud, ostentatious displays of nationality to others. Really, we don’t need to make a big deal of it – we are English, after all.
Oh, one other thing. Listening to the whole of The Kinks Are the Village Green Preservation Society on St George’s day should be made compulsory by law.