Category Archives: Our History

Come to Britain!

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The United Nations Tourism Organisation recently published a league table of the world’s most visited countries in 2012. In top place was France with approx 80 million visitors followed by the USA with approx 67 million. The UK was back in 8th place with just over 29 million visitors. In terms of cities London was a very close second to Bangkok with both having close on 16 million visitors a year. That means that London has more than half of the visitors for the whole UK. Now London is, of course, a splendid city but there’s a lot more to our country than its capital.

I’m sure I’m not alone in thinking that the English and other national tourist boards within the UK should be doing a better job than they are doing. This country has a history and heritage to rival any and we should be doing a lot more to tell the world about it, attract more tourists and boost our flagging economy.  We may no longer a world power and we no longer sit at the top table in terms of wealth or manufacturing output but we still have a lot to offer.

The English language is the most widely spoken language in the world and derivations of our legal and political systems exist in all four corners of the globe. Move 5 miles from any given point in this country and you will see some place of significance whether it be the remains of a medieval castle, Roman ruins or an Anglo-Saxon church dating back to the 9thth or 10th centuries. The whole of the British Isles is dotted with castles, stately homes, mansions, gardens and some of the most beautiful countryside in the world.

Many of our cities boast world class art galleries, museums and other attractions to whet the appetites of tourists from across the planet. The north of England is still littered with the mills constructed at the beginning of the Industrial Revolution and let’s not forget that the modern world, to a large extent, owes its very existence and prosperity to that English-driven Revolution. We should be proclaiming this to all and sundry. Come to England, come to Britain and see where it all began!

Waterloo, a Cause for Celebration

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Tomorrow is the anniversary of the battle of Waterloo, June 18th, 1815, when the tactical nous and skill of one of Britain’s finest generals, the Duke of Wellington, aided by Marshall Blucher’s Prussians, finally defeated the might of the French Emperor, Napoleon Bonaparte. The victory was followed by nearly a hundred years of peace and the finest days of the British Empire when Britain really did “rule the waves”.

No doubt there are those who would say that it is politically incorrect and insensitive to celebrate and glory in the memory of our victory but they would be  wrong. A British defeat on that day would have resulted in a Europe crushed and ruled by a vainglorious tyrant (as it would again, of course, in 1940) so I think we have every right to celebrate the anniversary of our victory.

There won’t be any celebrations of course and we really mustn’t upset anybody must we? Well, I disagree. It happened and the rest of Europe, France included, should be eternally grateful that it did. I for one will feel no embarrassment at all in raising a glass of brandy (Napoleon, of course!) and toasting the memory of one of the greatest days in British history!

It Was Fifty Years Ago Today……!

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Today is the anniversary of an important and significant event in the history of music,  although I doubt it will be marked in the national press. Way back in 1963, fifty years ago to the  very day, on Monday February 11th, The Beatles completed the recording of their first ever album (or LP as it was called then), “Please Please Me” at the Abbey Road Studios in London. So what, you might say, plenty of musicians have made successful albums, why is this one so special?
Well, it’s special on a number of levels but first and foremost was the sheer speed of the recording, eleven songs performed and recorded in one day. Ten of those songs were included on the new album in addition to the four songs taken from their first two singles and the eleventh was kept back for their second album. The Beatles’ second single, also called “Please Please Me”, had recently become their first ever number one single in virtually every chart other than the Record Retailer chart (which was topped by the band’s next single, “From Me To You” a couple of months later) and the band’s producer, George Martin, naturally wanted to quickly capitalise on that success.
To record ten songs in a single day was a rarity then and is unheard of these days in spite of the enormous leaps in technology . The album went to the top of the album charts, as in fact did all bar one of their subsequent albums, and for the next seven years, until their 1970 demise, The Beatles led the way with their pioneering music. The Beatles instigated a musical and social revolution the like of which this country and indeed the world had never seen before.
Their music helped to shape and define the 1960s and the four members of the band became the unofficial spokesmen of their generation. People now well into middle age recount their memories with reference to Beatles songs. The Beatles were that important and that influential.
Music historians have often analysed their immense talent and critics have said, well so and so had a better voice than either Paul McCartney or John Lennon, so and so could play lead guitar better than George Harrison and so and so was a better drummer than Ringo Starr. All that may be true but the fact of the matter is that, aside from the obvious song writing genius of Lennon and McCartney, The Beatles were a band whose whole was greater than the sum of their individual parts. Together they were truly insuperable.
In truth, when trying to find the words to describe The Beatles one runs out of superlatives. Quite simply The Beatles were a phenomenon, totally unique and without peer, and those of us lucky enough to be around when they were can say without exaggeration that they wrote the soundtrack to our lives. That is some accolade.

A Wicked King?

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This week’s news, that the skeleton discovered underneath a Leicester car park is almost certainly that of King Richard III is nothing short of remarkable. It is remarkable for two reasons. Firstly, that the body of the king, who died over 500 years ago and with no recorded grave, could have been found at all. Secondly, that modern science, in the form of DNA testing,  can prove virtually beyond reasonable doubt that the body is that of Richard III.

The story has resonated around the world and interest in one of England’s most infamous kings has been awakened once more (although the existence of the Richard III Society, dedicated to clearing his name would seem to indicate that, for some at least, no reawakening was necessary!). King Richard’s brief reign (just over two years in length) came to a bloody end at the Battle of Bosworth Field in August 1485 and with his death came the end of the thirty year long War of the Roses.

The victor of that battle, Henry Tudor (shortly to become King Henry VII) had less of a legal claim to the throne than the defeated Richard and so it was in his interests to paint his dead rival in as bad a light as possible to make his own position safer. The War of the Roses was a time of great treachery, betrayal, double-dealing  and brutality and the last battle, at Bosworth, illustrated that perfectly with one of Richard’s leading generals (Lord Stanley) defecting, with his small army, to Henry’s side once he saw which way the wind of battle was blowing and another general (the Earl of Northumberland) taking no part whatever.

Not only does the victor take the spoils, he writes the history books and, aided by William Shakespeare some one hundred years later, Henry and his advisors made Richard III appear one of the cruellest and most evil of kings ever to wear the crown of England. Most historians concede that he was indeed ruthless and devious but probably no more so than many of his contemporaries. In truth, a kind and gentle soul would hardly be capable of seizing and hanging on to the crown of 15th century England. In short, Richard was most likely a mere product of his times.

The discovery of his remains has provoked much debate both as to where Richard should now be interred (the cathedrals of Leicester, York and Westminster all lay claim) and also as to how fairly history has represented him. At least one myth has now been exploded since the skeleton shows that he did not have a withered arm and although his spine was deformed he was not the hunchback portrayed by Shakespeare. That makes sense at any rate, for nearly all the contemporary reports show him to have been a fierce warrior who distinguished himself time and again in battle and who met his death whilst attempting to engage his opponent, Henry Tudor, in single combat.

Whatever one’s take on the history of Richard and his bloody times this story has clearly demonstrated yet again that our country has a history and heritage second to none. Even 500 years after his death the tale of Richard III proves that the story of England still has the power to interest, enthral and capture the attention of the world.

The Turning of the Tide

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Today is an important day in the history of this nation which 70 years ago, during World War II, was literally fighting for its very existence. On November 2nd,1942 British and Allied troops were engaged in a battle that would see the tide of war, which for over three years had rolled against Britain, now turn in her favour. That battle was El Alamein (October 23rd – November 4th, 1942) and so important was the victory that Prime Minister Winston Churchill was moved to declare “This is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end, but it is perhaps the end of the beginning”.

Prior to this victory in the desert of Egypt the British and Allied forces had known defeat and humiliation from Dunkirk to Singapore and in the North African campaign had regularly suffered at the hands of the German Afrika Korps led by the brilliant Field Marshall Erwin Rommel, known as the “Desert Fox”. Churchill decided that something had to be done and so changed the army leadership, appointing General Alexander to overall command with General Gott as commander of the 8th Army (later to be known as the “Desert Rats”). Sadly, General Gott was killed in the plane taking him to his new command HQ and by default, General Montgomery took his place.

Bernard Law Montgomery, born in London in 1887, was a charismatic, inspirational and often controversial figure, a fine tactician and  meticulous organiser who exuded confidence in everything he did. He inherited a demoralised army who appeared to be more in awe of the seemingly invincible Rommel than their own leaders. This was all about to change as Montgomery declared, upon taking up his new command, “There will be no more belly-aching and no more retreats”. He was true to his word since, in his first action as commander of the 8th Army,  he was to achieve a defensive victory against Rommel at Alam Halfa in early September 1942.

Following on from this Montgomery (known as Monty to his men) made plans to go on the offensive and demanded men and materials from the Government to make this possible. He planned his campaign thoughtfully and methodically,  insisting upon having an overwhelming attacking force, superior in numbers and equipment to the enemy, before risking the lives of his own men. This attitude came about as a result of the slaughter of World War I where Montgomery himself had been severely wounded. He was determined never to waste lives unnecessarily and once, when told by one of his soldiers that his most prized possession was his rifle, Montgomery responded “No, it isn’t. It’s your life and I am going to save it”.

Before beginning the attack, Montgomery ensured that there was complete ground and air co-operation and co-ordination. He insisted that his RAF counterpart be based in close proximity to his own HQ and that he be kept fully informed of what was going on. So it was, that with air superiority guaranteed and a large force of fully motivated soldiers newly equipped with freshly delivered American Sherman and Grant  tanks, the attack on El Alamein (codename Operation Lightfoot) began with an almighty artillery barrage on the night of October 23rd, 1942.

Fighting their way through dense enemy minefields, sometimes 5 miles deep,  the British and Allied troops, under fierce fire the whole time, achieved what Montgomery referred to as the “break-in”. Now followed the second stage, the “dogfight” when Rommel (who had just returned from illness) threw everything he had against the Allies in a powerful counter-attack. This had been predicted by and planned for by Montgomery and when Rommel failed to drive the Allies back Montgomery launched the third and final stage, the “break-out” (Operation Supercharge) on the night of November 1st.  By November 4th it was all over, the enemy was in full flight and the battle won.

The effect on the morale of the army and the public at home was enormous, church bells were rung and people unashamedly celebrated the first piece of really good news that they had experienced in over three years of war. The last word belongs with Churchill, who after the war had ended, stated “Before Alamein we never had a victory, after Alamein we never had a defeat”. Victory was still a long way off however and came at a terrible price before its end  (in Europe at least) in May, 1945 when Field Marshall Montgomery (later Viscount Montgomery of Alamein) personally accepted the surrender of the German northern armies.

Where it all Began

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They say that travel broadens the mind, though whether or not this applies to all travellers is a moot point.  I travel for a living and it certainly helps me gain a true sense of perspective of not only myself but, much more importantly, of our country. There are those among us who are constantly critical, always seeking to have a moan about the UK, a trait which most foreigners who I encounter find truly astounding.

I make no apology for the fact that I am both a proud Briton and a proud Englishman and I mean  that in a matter of fact and positive manner and not through any misplaced sense of superiority. In my work I travel all over the world particularly Canada and the USA , from where I am writing this blog. I’m actually in Memphis today and have been guiding a group through the beautiful states of Georgia, Mississippi and Tennessee. These are lands steeped in history, though compared to our history they (at least as far as the history of non-native Americans is concerned) are a mere five minutes old!
I’m in the land of cotton and the more I research the history of cotton I am struck by how much our own recent history is linked to that of the southern USA. For many years, at the height of the Industrial Revolution and the height of Empire, the British were the biggest purchasers of American cotton and much of Britain, particularly northern England grew very wealthy on the back of it. Thousands of mills were constructed in the north of England to process cotton purchased from the USA and other parts of the world and hundreds of thousands of people found work in those mills. At one time Britain was the world’s leading exporter of cotton products. The Industrial Revolution began in England and our country was the first industrial super power with mainly English inventions leading the way for the rest of the world to follow.
Most of the mills have gone of course but the legacy remains. As somebody who works in tourism, taking British people around the world, it occurs to me that we should turn it on its head and invite more tourists to our country. Just think of the jobs that would be created for a start and the sense of pride that could be engendered in our own people as they show foreigners around our country. We have a history and a heritage second to none and wouldn’t it be marvellous to invite coach loads of Chinese, Indians and Americans to these shores to show them where it all began and from where their own current prosperity originated?

Acknowledgement

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Today is the anniversary of the outbreak of World War II. On September 3rd, 1939 the British Prime Minister, Neville Chamberlain, made a radio announcement that in view of the fact that Adolf Hitler had ignored the ultimatum for Germany to withdraw from Poland, which it had invaded two days previously, our country was now at war with Germany.

The war was to last for nearly six years costing the lives of millions and causing the unprecedented destruction of cities and towns throughout the world including, of course, virtually every city and many towns in our own country.
Will there be any commemoration of this date? I doubt it. Some of the broadsheets may make some reference but probably not the tabloid press and mainstream television, obsessed as they are, by footballers and the antics of so-called “celebrities”.
 I know that we should try to forget the past, forgive our enemies and get on with the future but the Second World War is still recent history and there are millions of people in this country, living still, who were affected by that war. Some may be surviving servicemen and women and others may have been children during the war years. Some will have suffered greatly and others not so but the point is, for as long as there are those who remember should we not, as a matter of simple respect, make some form of acknowledgement?

A Close Run Thing

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Today is the anniversary of the battle of Waterloo, June 18th 1815, one of the most significant days in British and indeed, world history. On this day Arthur Wellesley, the Duke of Wellington, Britain’s finest soldier since the Duke of Marlborough, faced the French army led by the military genius  Napoleon Bonaparte in what would effectively decide the future of Europe.

As we all know, Wellington, aided by the late arrival on the field of battle by the Prussians under Marshall Blucher, defeated the French ending, once and for all, the threat of Napoleon. It was a closely fought battle and but for the courage and skill under pressure of the unflappable and ever-cool Wellington, the bravery of his troops and some uncharacteristic indecisiveness by Napoleon things could have turned out rather differently. Indeed, Wellington himself referred to his victory as “the nearest run thing you ever saw in your life”.

For Britain, the victory meant the removal of the threat of invasion and for the next 100 years she lived in prosperity and for the main part in peace (an era known as “Pax Britannica”) free to develop the greatest empire the world had ever seen. I wonder how many of our schoolchildren know of this day and, for that matter, how many of their teachers?

A Brief History of Football

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Football (or soccer as it is also known) is generally acknowledged to have been invented by the English and the first ever football club, Sheffield, was founded in 1857. Within a few years a professional Association Football league was established and, as the British Empire prospered and expanded the game was exported to all corners of the globe. (The name “soccer”, by the way, is derived from the word “Association”). Soon the game was played the world over and by the middle of the twentieth century football was the most popular game on the planet.
In England, the domestic football league thrived and every town in the country had a team in either the national Football League or in one of the many so-called feeder leagues in the lower reaches of the football pyramid. Football had truly become the nation’s favourite sport. By the l960s there were four divisions of the professional Football League although, by the turn of the century the top division had broken away from the League and had become the self governing Premier League or Premiership as it is also known.
 
As well as the League competition the top clubs compete in two major cup competitions, the FA Cup and the League Cup and at the elite level clubs also compete against European opposition for two further cups. You’d think that since we invented this game and boast the home of football in Wembley Stadium, Londonthat, nationally, we would be European or World Champions on a regular basis. Sadly not and, in fact, our record would seem to indicate that we’re not very good at football at all!
 
Apart from one isolated World Cup success in 1966, and even then we were the tournament hosts, our history is one of near misses and unmitigated disaster! Many football experts have tried to come up with an explanation for our repeated failure and have tried even harder to find a remedy but to no avail. Will we just have to accept that Johnny Foreigner is invariably blessed with superior skills and leave it at that or can there be further glory just around the corner for the English?
 

Whatever the future holds for English football there are still those among us who can remember that wonderful summer’s day in July 1966 when Bobby Moore and his band of immortals lifted the World Cup bringing  joy to the nation, causing old men to weep with pride and a generation of younger men to yearn for the day when England can once again be called the champions of the world!   


                                            

The Last Englishman

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Like many people in the UK I bemoan the fact that our children are no longer taught substantive English and British history, save in private schools. We have such a rich heritage that the omission is nothing short of a scandal. Until our governments see sense (common sense?) I suppose we who were lucky enough to be taught English history must satisfy ourselves by passing on that knowledge to others less fortunate. Today I will be making a speech at a belated St George’s Day lunch and my theme is Hereward the Wake, a hero of these Isles referred to by some as the Last of the English.

Following the battle of Hastings on October 14th, 1066 England lay defenceless against the organised might and ruthlessness of William the Conqueror and his victorious Norman army. By the clever use of gifts of land  in return for oaths of allegiance King William, as he was quickly proclaimed, ensured that England would soon be pacified and brought to heel. This system, the Feudal System, guaranteed the loyalty of his nobles who quickly occupied the estates of the English (Anglo-Saxon) nobles who had been decimated at Hastings.

Some natives refused to bow to the Conqueror and revolts sprang up in various parts of the country. These were swiftly and brutally crushed but one man still resisted. Hereward the Wake (meaning wary or watchful) was born in the town of Bourne, Lincolnshire the son of an Anglo-Danish nobleman. He was something of a hothead in his youth and was outlawed by the King causing him to flee the country. Whilst in Flanders, where he had fought as a mercenary, he learned of the Norman conquest and shortly afterwards returned home with some followers. He discovered  that his father had been driven from the family home and, worse still, that his younger brother had been killed and his head nailed above the doorway.

Hereward, a redoubtable warrior, sought revenge on those responsible and legend has it that he single-handedly killed the fourteen Norman culprits and then had their heads nailed above the same doorway.  Clearly he couldn’t remain at large since the Normans were sure to come looking for him and so he and his followers went into hiding in the nearby Fens. The Fens, comprising treacherous marshland surrounded by thick forest, made an ideal base for the guerrilla warfare that Hereward planned against the Normans.

Hereward soon became a sharp thorn in the side of his enemies who tried desperately to capture him as his successes continued. As word of his exploits spread he became the symbol of English resistance and his small army increased in size as other rebels joined him. Aided by the Saxon Lord Morcar, from Northumberland, and a small force of Danes he led an attack on the Abbey at Peterborough capturing a large hoard of treasure which he wished to prevent from falling into Norman hands.

So serious was the threat now posed by Hereward that a Norman army led by King William in person descended upon the Fens determined to bring the rebellious Englishman to justice. Hereward’s stronghold was well chosen however and the Normans could find no way through the treacherous fens and marshes that he now called home. The Normans tried to cross over the marshes by means of various causeways but Hereward always outwitted them, on one occasion hiding his men in the reeds and then setting fire to stockpiles of wood as his enemies approached. Fleeing the flames, those Normans who were not drowned in the marshy waters were picked off by hidden English archers.

What the Normans were unable to achieve by straightforward military means they were however able to achieve by treachery and so it was that the Abbot of Ely, sick of the fighting, revealed to the Normans the whereabouts of a secret path leading straight into the heart of Hereward’s camp. Armed with this information the Norman soldiers followed the path and attacked the camp taking the rebels completely by surprise. Though many were killed in the sudden attack Hereward managed to escape.

It is here that his story has become blurred through the mists of time. Some say that he made peace with King William, others say he was later ambushed and killed by the Normans and yet more who say he simply melted quietly away into the anonymity of the marshy Fens. Whatever the truth, his memory lives on and to many, Hereward the Wake embodies the spirit of a true freedom fighter, the last of the English.