People sometimes talk of a lost England - a place of quiet villages, where beer is served in tankards, hanging baskets won't get vandalised, and the streets have yet to be turned into rivers of blood like they have in That London, and nobody is fiddling their benefits, and single mothers are stuffed inside a wicker man and burnt.
Of course, the people who talk this way are usually, UKIP supporters, Daily Mail editorial staff, and your grandparents, but the fact is this: that England has never gone anywhere. Get out of the cities and it's still there - the village greens, the farms, the local pubs and rolling fields. A gentler, more peaceful, way of existing, if you like that sort of thing. It isn't some nostalgic fantasy; it's a place we recognise, and we've often driven through these villages, and worried we've become racists just for doing so.
But step away from the association with those who've appropriated such imagery for xenophobic or political means, and there's much about that so-called 'lost' England that we appreciate. It's pretty, and it's slow, and we sort of love it, even though we know that - beneath the surface - everyone has a secret.
Of course, the people who talk this way are usually, UKIP supporters, Daily Mail editorial staff, and your grandparents, but the fact is this: that England has never gone anywhere. Get out of the cities and it's still there - the village greens, the farms, the local pubs and rolling fields. A gentler, more peaceful, way of existing, if you like that sort of thing. It isn't some nostalgic fantasy; it's a place we recognise, and we've often driven through these villages, and worried we've become racists just for doing so.
But step away from the association with those who've appropriated such imagery for xenophobic or political means, and there's much about that so-called 'lost' England that we appreciate. It's pretty, and it's slow, and we sort of love it, even though we know that - beneath the surface - everyone has a secret.
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