‘My pain at watching the sad decline of my homeland Britain’

I originally came from a once proud land. I grew up to aircraft dropping bombs on us, food rations, clothing rations and hard, brutal winters. The year of 1947 was one of the coldest ever. I was eight that year.

My mother took us to the country to live on a strawberry farm as Bristol was the second highest on the bomb hit list. Living a little way out was safer. We returned when war was over. Children were used to hardship and were basically expected to be strong enough to cope. Part of the character of a person in those days was to just pick yourself up in the rubble of war and start again.

At school, we were taught by staff who did not treat us gently, the ruler was smacked on every desk sharply on my first day. Yet that land that was being invaded and bombed somehow drew itself up, and fought tooth and nail to remain free.

The D Day landings on Normandy go down in history. The stirring words of Winston Churchill were blasting out of the radio at us. As well as listening to Children’s Hour, I took in the words I heard, “Britain will never be slaves”.

I was only slightly aware that we were special when the war was over. Our country had been beaten down, was short of all supplies, but not conquered. The people became stronger and they all worked hard. By the 1950s life was starting to be more fun. Industry was growing fast, factories were in production, life was almost perfect when later they took chocolate off the ration! Even bananas appeared, again.

This country with its pride, its courage, its resilience has now seemingly crumbled into a wet and soggy mess. The past 30 years have seen a decline that would make our former leaders turn in their graves. No sensible leaders remain; only pathetic men with spiteful speeches and no action.

The Victorians were the leaders with their energy and inventiveness. They built railways, bridges, canals and a sewerage system. The London underground was an amazing structure, and was started in Victorian times too. Open in 1863 was the Paddington and Farringdon line. Civil engineering was the forte of the Scots, as was building ships. The rather sad exploitation of the Irish meant the industry took on the ‘Navvies’ and they did the backbreaking work to enable all those things. The Welsh dug for coal. The midlands produced cotton and pottery. Each had their skills.

The proud Bristol boast was to be part of the designing team of the Concorde. The factories around Bristol also built the main source of great planes used to fight the war. The wonderful structure of the Suspension Bridge, also in Bristol was a beautiful bridge and a daily sight for me. Explorers and engineers and hard working men made a country that was not defeated even by Hitler or before them the trail of invaders who tried to take over the green and pleasant land.

Now I watch men dither and argue, and allow themselves to be dictated to by a place in Europe that should not be taking vast sums of money and making Britain pay for it. The huge cost of keeping some European countries afloat and the mass of refugees flooding in also takes a toll. Britain is dying and I watch with sadness.

My country is here in Australia now. I am happy Australia is my world. Yet, reading about the changes happening back home, I see great swathes of England bowing to a religion, which by 2070 will have overtaken Christian beliefs. I see councils throwing money away on stupid schemes, as the country wallows in overcrowding and increasing numbers of welfare recipients. I cannot comprehend why schools where no English is spoken are being approved and why there are ‘no go’ areas where police are unable to patrol.

Is this the England those brave men during the war fought for? I feel those poor souls who worked so hard with blood, sweat and tears would feel cheated if they are looking down on the country now. I don’t for one minute believe they would have fought for this.

Perhaps my brother and I were lucky. We had the comfort of the new house my father built around us, fresh eggs, a few treats like chocolate, fresh fruit picked from our own trees, the freedom to walk streets and a sense of security when doing so. We would ride our bikes to fields where the worst thing might have been a yappy dog at the farm. Saturday nights we would walk to the local pub along a lane where the bats swooped.

The United Kingdom will always have enclaves of peace, and not the whole of the country will ever be taken over, but I do worry about ‘the middle’? Devon and Cornwall and perhaps some of the southern places may be immune to the changes. The fierce independence of those people is special. Also Scotland may escape the onslaught, as the Scots do not bow down easily to invaders, there may be hope yet. Perhaps those resilient fishermen, engineers, and stonemasons might be the start of a brave new world … I have great faith in the Celts.

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