#MyEngland

On St George’s Day

#MyEngland is Burberry headscarves in cockney accents.

#MyEngland is top hats drawn in chalk.

#MyEngland is Australian gym girls eating sticky buns.

#MyEngland is hi-viz jackets at rest.

#MyEngland is Teletubby hills in urban playgrounds.

#MyEngland is buccaneers, corner cutters and grit.

#MyEngland is capital and tides and enclosures and rollercoasters.

#MyEngland is dragons and poets, duelling at closing time with miniature Spitfires and glee.

#MyEngland is pavilions and wall games and skills sharpened on kerbs.

#MyEngland is a pageantry of theatrical boos at a corner kick.

#MyEngland is a set of Imperial calling cards with empirical effects.

#MyEngland is an 8-bit commonwealth, a yawning heptarchy.

#MyEngland is uxorious towards customs and those forgotten in churchyards.

#MyEngland is grave towards hypocrisy, except in its back gardens.

#MyEngland sees technology as a matter of string and disambiguation.

#MyEngland is reinventing the world, one market at a time.

#MyEngland is waiting for a new joint to arise.

#MyEngland is art rock poses in suburban situations.

#MyEngland is the scene that celebrates itself.

#MyEngland is a soundsystem playing Elgar, filtered through jerk chicken.

#MyEngland is 101 people trying to be beautiful in a forest.

#MyEngland is pundits holding court in bungalows over imported convenience food.

#MyEngland is a demonstration around a campfire in a dell.

#MyEngland is minor shires competing for pewter bases in administration.

#MyEngland is wise counsel, disguised as affairs on park benches.

#MyEngland is a university of hedgerows, the analogue, the divine.

#MyEngland is a flutter on the hope that roses might flutter for you.

#MyEngland is This Great Movement of Ours.

#MyEngland is the first nation, the future nation, the memory of dreams.

One clap, two clap, three clap, forty?

By clapping more or less, you can signal to us which stories really stand out.