Little Englanders and Little Canary Islanders

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I’ve always liked Little Englanders. A couple of them have almost become in-laws. Sherry after six, roast on Sunday, preferably on a slow heat while one’s having a lunchtime pint down the Red Lion, respect for tradition, our island heritage and the monarchy which doesn’t exclude jokes about Phil the Greek. Narrow minded despite having views on everything, impatient of complexity, and often with routines that are as immovable as tramlines, they’re generally fair minded, reliable and, well, kind. They believe in an essence of Englishness that if everybody could just hold on to, as they try to do, then none of us would really have much to complain about.
I met one the other day, except he was proudly Spanish, and this was in the Canaries, which I guess would make him a Little Canary….ahem…Islander. He was our taxi driver from the airport. He told us with a smile…

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