Ellen E Jones
Forgive us, Britain — the plague has humbled Londoners, now we want to visit
EVERYONE wants to escape to New Zealand at the moment — land of the world-class Sauvignon Blanc and competent pandemic responses — but I would have been quite happy with the old one. Zeeland, on the south-west coast of the Netherlands, is where my Dutch in-laws have been doing unpretentious, bucket-and-spade holidays to perfection for decades. They cycle through the sand dunes, eat apple pancakes on the beach and, when the mood strikes, nip into the city of Middelburg for a cold pils with a view of the Gothic town hall. It’s nice.
But right now our family holiday plans, and everyone else’s, are as up in the air as the much-delayed “air bridges” scheme. Ominously, the Greek authorities have already nixed Brits until July 15 at the earliest. If an economy that gains €2.5 billion a year from British holidaymakers would rather not risk contact with our dirty lurgy what hope for a warm welcome elsewhere?
No, 2020 is the stay-at-home summer and this year there’s more than just impending environmental collapse compelling us to forgo flights. At the same time, three months of homeworking has thoroughly demonstrated the psychological importance of a change of scene. Just as you cannot hope to truly unwind of a Friday night while sitting in the same spot from where you’ve been sending stressy emails all day, however strong the cocktail, so a relaxing break requires getting somewhere — anywhere — outside of the city.
Like many London lifers, however, my explorations have so far been limited to muddy fields at music festivals, the Northern hometowns of a few exes and the uninspiring interiors of some regional convention centres.
My British travel bucket list, by contrast, roams all over, taking in a Steve Coogan-inspired Lake District restaurant tour, whisky tasting in the Highlands, communing with our neolithic ancestors at Stonehenge, a narrowboat trip on the Kennet and Avon canal, and much more. This country has it all: spectacular scenery, fascinating history and friendly locals. OK, maybe the locals aren’t so friendly, but they have their reasons.
Londoners supposedly dismiss what the rest of the country has to offer out of a sense of our own cultural superiority. Often though, it’s the rest of the country’s disdain for haughty
Londoners that acts as the real barrier. The capital’s second-homers helped cement this bad rep by selfishly relocating far and wide in midMarch at the first sign of lockdown. But Londoners must take some responsibility for banging on endlessly about the street food scene, the galleries and the pubs — oh, the pubs!
Forgive us, Britain. The plague has humbled us and we now realise it was a fear of rejection talking all along. How about this year we promise to leave the attitude at home? Then maybe you’ll go easy on the Wicker Man treatment
in exchange.