Category Archives: Our History

The Titanic

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Over the last few weeks, newspapers and television programmes have been full of stories about the Titanic, the ill-fated ocean liner that sank with the loss of over 1,500 lives on that April night one hundred years ago. Quite rightly, most articles have focused on the tragic loss of human life but there is another story too, one that I doubt is taught in British schools any more.

By the beginning of the 20th Century, at the height of Empire, the British shipbuilding industry was the largest in the world with companies such as Swan Hunter in Sunderland,  Cammell Laird in Birkenhead and Harland and Wolff in both Glasgow and Belfast supplying commercial shipping to the four corners of the Earth. In the early 1900s it was estimated that at any given time one half of the ships sailing the world’s oceans were built in British shipyards. Britain was an economic powerhouse and due to the Industrial Revolution it had become “the world’s workshop” to quote19th century Prime Minister Disraeli. One quarter of the world’s surface was a part of the British Empire and English was the most important and widely spoken language on Earth.

At the time of her launch the Titanic was the largest ship in the world weighing just over 46,000 tons. She seemed to represent all that was good and great about Britain and her Empire and was the last word in luxury. She was big news and wealthy aristocrats and businessmen from all over the world clamoured for first class tickets for her maiden voyage.

On April 10th, 1912 the Titanic set sail to the cheering of the crowds and the playing of brass bands amidst a riot of colourful streamers and bunting. She was the pride of the White Star Line, she was deemed unsinkable and so well was she constructed that the number of lifeboats was deemed almost irrelevant. If the ship was unsinkable why would lifeboats be necessary anyway?

Tragically, as has often been the case in the history of man, nature has a way of reminding him that he is not, in fact, all-powerful and so it was that on the night of April 14th/15th the mighty Titanic struck an iceberg causing fatal tears in her hull. A few hours later she sank into the icy depths. Her loss was both terrible in terms of the human cost and a terrible blow to the pride and morale of the nation. In many ways, coming as it did at the height of Empire, the sinking of the Titanic was symbolic signalling as it did the decline of Great Britain.

For sure, the British shipbuilding industry continued to thrive and prosper, just about surviving the terrible economic losses of World War 1 which broke out two years later but by the time of the Great Depression of the late 1920s and early 1930s the industry was a mere shadow of itself and in no shape to compete meaningfully with the more dynamic shipyards of the USA, Germany and Japan. Since then it has been a case of one closure after another so that now few British shipyards remain.

One thing is for certain though, for as long as passenger ships sail the oceans none will forget the story of the Titanic and that tragic April night.

Mothering Sunday

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Most of us take our mothers for granted don’t we? Not through any lack of affection or disrespect, of course, but simply because, as children and beyond, she is always there for us. Parents shape our lives and have a huge influence on how we develop as human beings and our mother is undoubtedly the single most important person in all our lives. She carried us for nine uncomfortable (I would assume!) months and brought us into the world bestowing upon us her totally unconditional love and devotion.

The father may traditionally be the breadwinner and the nominal head of the family but the mother is the catalyst. She holds the family together. She is at the centre of our lives and we gravitate around her like planets around the Sun. There may be exceptions but a poor mother is a rarity.
We take our mothers for granted because we can. Her love is guaranteed and her loyalty, strength and dependability sustain us and guide us through the turbulent waters of childhood and adolescence. She’s the one who cleans the cuts and bruises, comforts us and wipes away the tears when things go wrong. She’s the one who nurses us when we are ill, who takes us to the doctor when we’re off colour and to the dentist when we need a tooth filling. Even when childhood is long past she continues to support and help us throughout our lives until death do us part. We trust her implicitly and let’s face it, if you can’t trust your mother who can you trust?
For a mother, bearing a child is the start of a lifelong sentence (in a positive sense hopefully!) and the beginning of a new life of unquestioning and unquestioned sacrifice. A mother never ceases to worry, fret and care for her offspring. And what does she get in return? Sometimes, or so it must appear, other than sleep deprivation, constant anxiety, worry lines and stretch marks, very little!
Mothering Sunday, or Mother’s Day as it is now called, was traditionally the day when English children honoured their mothers with small gifts, usually posies of flowers and demonstrated that on at least one day out of 365 love is not necessarily a one way street! We don’t always show it, of course, but I suspect our mothers know how grateful and appreciative we really are, not just on that one Sunday in March, but throughout the year. Thankfully, a mother isn’t just for one day; she is quite literally, as the adverts say, for life.

Arab Betrayal

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I visited Azraq castle yesterday, the castle in eastern Jordan where Lawrence of Arabia was based with his Arab forces in 1917. From here Lawrence led the successful assault on Damascus effectively ending  the Turkish occupation of Arab lands and precipitating their defeat in the First World War. The victory should have been a happy ending for the Arab Revolt but unfortunately it wasn’t.


To encourage an Arab revolt the British government had promised full independence and self determination to the Arabs if they were victorious against the Turks. However, they were at the same time concluding the secret Sykes Picot agreement with the French providing for the sharing of Arab lands between the British and French once the war was won; the complete opposite of what they had promised the Arabs.

Lawrence, of course, was absolutely furious and dismayed when he learned of his country’s duplicity, not least because he, in good faith, had personally encouraged the Arabs to rise up with the promise of independence at the war’s end. Lawrence, a great and inspirational leader and a true friend of the Arabs, worked hard to try to overturn the Sykes-Picot agreement but what could one man do, even a man such as he, against the collective will of two powerful governments?

Although his efforts assisted in the creation of the Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan in 1921, albeit under a British mandate (which ended in 1946), his pleas fell largely on deaf ears. Tired and embittered by his exertions Lawrence returned to England to write his autobiography (The Seven Pillars of Wisdom) and later joined the RAF as an ordinary serviceman using the alias of T.E. Shaw. 

He was killed in a motorcycle accident in 1935 though some people, particularly his many Arab friends, suspected the hand of the British government. Maybe they were right for who knows fully what goes on in the dark corridors of power? One thing is for sure though, the name of Lawrence of Arabia is still loved and revered in Arab lands and it is a tragedy that his country’s promises were broken. If they had been kept perhaps the Middle East would be a safer place today.

World Service

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This week the BBC World Service celebrated its 80th birthday, having started out life as the British Empire Service way back in 1932. A lot has happened in those 80 years, not least the fact that there is, of course, no longer an empire for it to serve!

During the Second World War the BBC Overseas Service, as it was then known, provided a vital service both in supplying news of the outside world and moral support to those struggling in Nazi-occupied Europe. Those years were probably the finest in the history of the BBC World Service (its name was changed in 1965) though in the long years since the end of the war its broadcasts have been heard and relished by many people around the world lacking the freedoms that we, in the free world, take for granted.

There is a natural tendency, now that the UK is no longer a major player on the world stage, to regard the BBC World Service as something of an anachronism and to an extent that may well be true. However, according to figures released this week, some 7 million Iranians regularly tune into the BBC World Service. That would seem to indicate that the Service is alive and kicking and if it can provide information and hope to those suffering under that cruel regime then clearly, it still has a vital role to play.

Sport in Perspective

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Monday morning, it’s the start of the week and you’ve got a nice warm glow following the weekend’s sporting success. 


It’s strange that something over which we have no control can influence our mood and general demeanour and to somebody with no interest in sport it all must appear quite baffling. Sports fans and journalists alike often use warlike terms like battle and struggle to describe what they have witnessed on the playing field and  somebody once described sport as war without the fatalities; an interesting analogy. I recently visited the second world war cemetery at Kanchanaburi, Thailand close to the famous bridge over the River Kwai where nearly 7,000 allied soldiers are buried. Such visits are both moving and humbling and the visitor cannot fail to be left with a true sense of perspective of the realities of his or her own life.

Sport, on the other hand, for all its aggression and occasional violence is nothing more than a recreational activity providing us with an escape from the reality of our often humdrum lives. Although  it has the ability to move both participant and spectator alike, portraying as it does the exuberance of life and competition, it is not war. At times it can appear to be the most important thing in life and even a matter of life and death, as Bill Shankly once said, but when all is said and done it is only a game.

Still, having said all that the sweet taste of victory lingers long in the mouth particularly when, against all the odds, your national team has emerged triumphant over its bitter rivals!

Scottish Independence

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I recently read that the Scottish Nationalist Party are planning to hold a referendum in 2014 on the proposed secession of Scotland from the United Kingdom. The reason they have chosen 2014 is that this is a big year for the Scots being the 700th anniversary of  their victory over the wicked English at the battle of Bannockburn.
It is thought, probably accurately, that nationalistic feelings will be running high and there will be more chance of success for the Nationalists. Fair enough, I don’t suppose it would have made much sense holding the referendum on the anniversary of  defeats such as Neville’s Cross or Flodden Field! Actually, it does provide food for thought though and maybe we should follow their example and hold our own referendum on Europe on the anniversary of the battle of  Waterloo!

One further thought occurs to me about a Scottish referendum. What if the Nationalists are successful and they break away from the union? In the absence of the English who on earth are they going to blame for all their future problems?

In all seriousness, the possibility of the break up of the United Kingdom is not a pleasant one. England formally united with Scotland in 1707 and together with the Welsh and Irish they created one of the largest and most influential empires the world has ever seen. England may well have been the most populous member of the union and the senior partner but nobody can possibly deny the huge input of the Scots, Welsh and Irish in the building of that empire. It was a British Empire not an English one and it could not have been built by the English alone. The British flag, the Union Flag (Jack) is one of the most beautiful and recognizable flags in the world and it represents so much of what is good and great about these Isles. It would be sad if 2014 saw its destruction.

History in Schools

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The Education Secretary, Michael Gove, yesterday stated, not for the first time, that too little history and in particular too little British history is taught in our schools. This followed a report by Sir David Cannadine, a history professor, which reached the same conclusion. The report added that history should be compulsory for all children until they reach 16 years and therefore, in most cases, until they actually finish secondary school. That has to be right, for two reasons.

Firstly, history is another word for experience and as all parents know experience is a great teacher. How many times do we tell our children not to do something, like not putting their hands in a bowl of hot water as we did at their age, hoping that they, unlike us, will not suffer unnecessary pain. We’ve learned the consequences of such actions through painful experience and if children can learn from our experience then all well and good. The same thing is true of history. Do you think, for example, that western governments would have been so quick to become involved in Afghanistan if they’d studied and learned the lessons that the British learned in the late 19th Century or the Soviets in the late 20th Century?

Secondly, it is vital to teach our children all about this country’s history to give them a true perspective of where they are from and what they are a part of. That history must be taught as it is, honestly, openly and truthfully, warts and all and without any political spin. Teach children the facts and let them make their own minds up about the rights and wrongs. When I was at school in the early 1970s my left wing leaning British History teacher never missed an opportunity to criticise the British Empire and I’m sure at times he made some valid points. However, I never once heard him mention the fact that Britain was the first civilised nation to abolish slavery and led the way for other nations such as France, Spain and even the USA to follow; funny that.

We must teach children to feel pride in their heritage and pride in their country’s many achievements. Who knows, that feeling of pride may well foster in them a different outlook to life and a feeling that maybe we have something worth preserving in this country. That alone would make the whole exercise worthwhile wouldn’t it?

An English Hero

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Today is October 21st, the anniversary of Britain’s most famous naval victory, the battle of Trafalgar. It is also the anniversary of the death of Lord Nelson, the hero of that battle who lost his life at the moment of his greatest victory. The following is a brief précis of that life and the battle with which Nelson will forever be associated.
Horatio Nelson, the son of a church minister, joined the Royal Navy as a midshipman at the age of 12 and rose quickly through the ranks becoming captain of his own ship at the age of 20 and admiral before his 40th birthday, one of the youngest in English naval history. An outstanding leader and tactician he was also a man of immense personal courage always in the forefront of the action losing the sight of his right eye at the siege of Calvi in 1794 and his right arm whilst leading an attack on Santa Cruz de Tenerife in 1797.
He became one of the most popular figures of contemporary society, an icon adored by the masses and courted by royalty throughout Europe. Charismatic and vain, he scandalised society by embarking upon a passionate affair with the beautiful Lady Emma Hamilton with whom he had a daughter, Horatia. Both were married to other people at the time but this did nothing to diminish Nelson’s popularity and appeal. He died tragically at the age of 47 years at the moment of his greatest triumph at Trafalgar in October 1805, a victory which guaranteed British control of the seas for the next 100 years.
Horatio Nelson (first known as Horace) was born on September 29th, 1758 in the village of Burnham Thorpe, Norfolk. He was a bright child of average physique and was sent, aged 10, to the Royal Grammar School, Norwich shortly after the death of his mother. He stayed there for a year before completing his formal academic education at Sir John Paston’s School in North Walsham. On January 1st, 1771, aged 12 he joined HMS Raisonnable as a midshipman thus beginning a career that would bring him unimagined fame and fortune and a place forever in the hearts of his countrymen. He sailed the world in the service of king and country, defying the might of Napoleon Bonaparte and his allies and winning significant victories at the Nile in 1798 and Copenhagen in 1801. As a reward for his success he was made first, a Baron and then Viscount. His final date with destiny came off Cape Trafalgar, Southern Spain in the autumn of 1805.
When dawn broke on the misty morning of October 21st, 1805 Lord Nelson’s fleet prepared for battle against the combined fleet of French and Spanish vessels under the command of the French Admiral Villeneuve. Sending the signal that “England expects every man to do his duty” (or words to that effect) Nelson, foregoing the established broadside tactics of the time, split his fleet into two columns and, leading one column himself aboard his flagship HMS Victory, sailed straight into the lines of the numerically superior French and Spanish. Ignoring the advice of his junior officers Nelson, dressed in full uniform and giving no thought for his own personal safety, stood prominently on the bridge of his ship in full view of his men eager, as always, to lead from the front. Of course, this meant that he was equally conspicuous to the enemy.
Nelson’s tactics aided by the excellent seamanship and superior gunnery of his sailors caused havoc amongst the enemy who were crushed into submission by the withering hail of British cannon fire; their losses were catastrophic. At the moment of victory Nelson was struck in the chest by a French sharpshooter’s musket ball. Mortally wounded, he was quickly carried down below decks but lived long enough to hear confirmation of his total victory before receiving that famous kiss -“Kiss me Hardy”- from his subordinate Lieutenant Hardy.
His body was preserved in a vat of brandy and transported back to England where his funeral brought London to a standstill as hundreds of thousands of his grieving countrymen poured on to the streets to pay their last respects. Nelson was buried at St Paul’s Cathedral and a grateful nation honoured his memory and that of his finest hour by erecting a statue of the great man atop a column, naturally called Nelson’s column, in the newly named Trafalgar Square in London.

Fish and Chips – Our National Dish

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If a foreigner asked an Englishman to name his country’s national dish the chances are that he would answer “fish and chips”. Up until a few years ago that was almost certainly true but following the collapse of our fishing industry in the late 20thcentury our eating habits have changed. How can this have happened?
Well, by the late 1950s the British fishing industry was buoyant and fishing ports like Fleetwood, Hull and Grimsby were booming with the latter said to be the largest fishing port in the world landing greater quantities of haddock, plaice and halibut (to name but a few species) than anywhere else on the planet.

Now, however these once great ports are mere shadows of  themselves and where once there would be hundreds of boats lined along the docks their place has been taken by pleasure craft and the odd inshore fishing vessel. Today the main business in many English fishing ports is the freezing and processing of fish caught by fishing fleets from other countries.

It’s hard to believe that this was allowed to happen and almost harder to believe how it happened. Over-fishing undoubtedly caused a reduction in fish stocks leading in turn to a drop in catches but that could have been dealt with by a system of fishing quotas, limiting the size of catches. The main reasons for the decline were the Government’s failure to back the fishing industry in the Cod Wars of the 1970s (a dispute over the size of the Icelandic fishing grounds) and then in the same decade, the surrender of British fishing rights in return for entry into the European Economic Community. Yes, in a clandestine deal the British Government gave away our exclusive right to fish our own waters to our new European partners. At a stroke the fishing industry was decimated leading to mass unemployment in British fishing ports and a severe restriction (authorised by the European Commission) in the size of British catches.
Matters were and continue to be made worse by the absurd European Union’s Common Fisheries policy, a policy that enforces rigid quotas but which at the same time forces fishermen to discard any fish not included in the quota for that particular fishing trip. This means that a boat authorised to land cod and haddock, for example, must throw away any other fish caught in their nets. Thus millions of tons of perfectly edible and valuable fish (already dead in the nets in most cases) are dumped at sea every year to rot at the bottom of the ocean. In a country where many fishermen are struggling to make a living and in a world where millions of people are dying of starvation it is an absolute disgrace and it almost defies belief that politicians can allow such a scandal to exist.
Of course we still enjoy our fish and chips in spite of the fact that a big increase in price, over the years, has been followed by a corresponding decrease in size. To the average Englishman the taste of cod or haddock and chips cooked in beef dripping is still a mouth-watering prospect but for many the bitter aftertaste of the betrayal of our fishing heritage is the taste that lingers the longest.