BY ANDREW MILNE
One August, I swam across a lake in Bavaria with my two sons aged twelve and six respectively. Bavaria has its own treacherous weather systems. When we reached the other side – surrounded by dark cliffs and mysterious forests – a thunder storm rumbled into action. Rain jetted down pocking the mere’s surface. All of us were good swimmers but the prospect of front crawling back across the lake appeared daunting. Confidence was called for. Were we going to make it? Would we be hit by lightning cracking down? Confidence and a refusal to panic were key.
The big gamble facing Britain at the next General Election is confidence. Do the British have the confidence to elect a government which will prioritise business, commerce and trade? Or will a majority of the electorate cavil at the prospect of a slimmer welfare system, scaled back healthcare and a realistic reform of state pension provision? What exactly will the Makerfield by-election show?
The British have been too comfortable, too complacent and frankly too ill for too long. The great temptation is always to look for a leader to sort out the mess. Confident change in Britain starts with a change in the practices of the populace at large. Nothing will change unless we become the architects of our future.
We can do nothing without self-confidence. Like a muscle it needs to be built up in the gymnasia of struggle, hardship and experience.
How many of our once noble race spend their evening slumped in front of a screen chugging beer? These, the Briton-off, live secondhand lives through screen and game, alcohol and anti-social media.
The rate of obesity proves the nation has become a crashed-out culture of indolence. 30% of adults in the UK are clinically obese. 70% of men and 62% of women are overweight. Over the last quarter-century obesity rates have quadrupled. Army recruiters scratch their heads at the corpulent youngsters seeking to enlist. Few are any good any more.
We build confidence by following examples. Live a life of adventure an old SAS officer once told me. Sound advice – I brought up my children climbing mountains, sea swimming, horse riding, hiking German heaths, cycling Dutch polders and running after hounds across two counties.
Look to the men and women who wrest a living from the land. Farmers, contractors, builders and soldiers: dangerous spirits these, they walk dogs at dawn, run, hunt, shoot and work out. A secret army of the self-employed, family firms, farms and shops, pub landlords and entrepreneurs stand by with very pistols to illuminate the way ahead. The day will come when almost everyone is self employed, paid on a results basis. The old order passeth. Action and passion fuel levels of confidence, which elude swathes of risk-assessed rhomboids.
As Pentecost approaches it is well to reflect on the great outpouring of self-confidence visited upon the apostles. Moping in upstairs rooms, understandably upset, these simple men threw caution away and went out to show the world the way to divine enlightenment. Let us pray for a similar miracle.
The coming by-election pits a career politician who has never had a proper job against a local self-employed plumber. Mayor of Manchester, Andy Burnham, was born in Liverpool and raised in Cheshire. (Makerfield is in Lancashire.) After graduating he worked as a researcher for Tessa Jowell and then did a stint on a health care quango. Burnham was part of the government’s Football Task Force which looked at racism, disabled access etc in the beautiful game. Then he became an MP. Mr Burnham has never had a get-your-hands chapped, life on the line, rain water running down the back of your neck sort of a job. Making payroll, routine bollockings by customers and suppliers alike form no part of his pedigree.
By contrast Robert Kenyon the Reform UK candidate, is a north-country entrepreneur – a self-employed plumber and heating engineer who was born in Makerfield Lancashire. A corporal in the territorial army, Kenyon trains Muay Thai. Martial arts build confidence and respect. Karate, Brazilian jiu jitsu, everyone should take them up – even boxing exercises help. Mr Kenyon is called out at the dead of night to rescue a burst water system flooding a pensioner’s flat. Autumns see him working round the clock fixing boilers that their owners have absently neglected to have serviced. By all accounts Mr Kenyon does so with grace and aplomb.
The pair represent the choice facing Britain. Dare to be brave, to fight and conquer. The alternative is to sink into a declining bankrupt obesity. A dark world beckons, a world of missed opportunities and abject surrender. Storm clouds are gathering around the West. Lightning panics the cattle of a failed convention.
All those years ago we looked up at the flickering sky. It never occurred to any of us to scramble ashore and cower amidst the rocks. ‘We’ll use breast stroke to get back,’ I said. ‘Place one hand on my shoulder,’ I told the youngest, ‘And the other on your brother’s shoulder.’ He nodded. ‘Kick as hard as you can when we set off. We do not stop.’ They both gasped an ‘OK Dad,’ thrilled by the danger and risk. Off we went through crashing thunder and driving rain. Lightning danced around the peaks above. Onward we pressed.
We made it and walked up the shingle strand to where my long-suffering wife waited with towels. My sons grinned and dressed. Local people sheltered under a kiosk awning. One young chap, smiling, asked if we were OK. An older man shook his head tut-tutting. Bavarian German is difficult to understand, but the old boy used the word verrücktheit. Madness. The young chap asked us where we were from. I told him we were British. To my side I heard the old boy mutter that the British had always been mad, absolutely barking. I had never felt more proud.
Andy Milne is a writer based in the west country, his latest book Trail of Stars is available on Amazon