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| Vice-Admiral Horatio Nelson - from Norfolk. |
Through Southern England on the train from London to Plymouth on a cold, sunny Winter’s day. The
train passes Aldermaston, the atomic weapons establishment, the British Y-12,
where Bertrand Russell and others vented their spleens, founding the Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament in 1958. In
an equine interlude we nip past Newbury racecourse, which was a German POW camp
in World War II, and onto the Bronze Age Uffington White Horse on the Berkshire
Downs. Past Stonehenge then through some
curiously-named places: Littleton Panell, Marston Magna, Nunney, Potterne,
Urchfont. Next is Glastonbury (the world’s largest rock festival), Taunton and
Exeter. My train, arrives at Plymouth, where my daughter, Serena meets me.
We’re in the West Country now, and the people are somewhat annoying.
First and foremost, there’s no decent football team
here for hundreds of miles. Then, some of the locals claim their accent to be at
the origin of Americanese. But I know
that the dialect of Norfolk, where I come from, has the closest ties to that of
Eastern New England; I don’t care whether Plymouth, MA came before Norwich, CT.
What’s even more galling, though, is that they claim to have had Britain’s
greatest sea-dog, Francis Drake. Now, we from Norwich had the brilliant Nelson (above),
who single-handedly thrashed Napoleon. This guy Drake, supposedly a Vice Admiral
(but really a pirate) was (or wasn’t) playing bowls on Plymouth Hoe in 1588
when informed of the approaching Spanish Armada. He (maybe) said there was
plenty of time to finish the game before sailing out to singe the beard of the King
of Spain, or whatever….Peasant!
