Land of Hope and Glory British Country Life
For almost
120 years, Country Life magazine has been aspiring to capture the elusive soul
of the British countryside, from muddy fields to stately homes. Jane Treays
spent a year filming with the magazine, exploring the lives of those who have
been bred into the land, inherited it or have simply bought into its dreams.
A real country gentleman: how to spot one
Janet
Menzies November 6, 2015
https://www.thefield.co.uk/country-house/a-real-country-gentleman-how-to-spot-one-30346
Not all who live in the country are country. To
help you spot a real country gentleman, Janet Menzies identifies the fakers in
the acres
A real
country gentleman is hard to spot. Among the ever-growing tribes of countryside
pretenders, they can be few and far between. Janet Menzies separates the wheat
from the chaff, the sheep from the goats and the real country gentleman from
the boys.
If you
consider yourself expert enough to already know a real country gentleman from a
fake, take a look at The Field’s 11 things to add to your shooting bucket list
or 5 things to add to your hunting bucket list instead. Or what to wear when
shooting and what to wear out hunting for some useful tips.
A REAL
COUNTRY GENTLEMAN
Spotting a
real country gentleman is far from easy. Yes, you can recognise one if you come
across one – but, among all the different tribes of less-than-genuine country
folk, you have to be lucky to see one in the first place. There’s the Rock ’n’
Rural tribe of celebrities who have taken over the houses, and often the role,
of the country squire. And what about the Welly Silly brigade flocking in from
the towns in their pink polka-dot plastic wellies (rather than gumboots) to
live in converted phone boxes? The Terrier-ists – those slightly scary guys
bristling with ferrets and dogs – were always here. But are any of them a real
country gentleman? It’s often difficult to tell them from the Sabbing Antis,
who also wear camo gear and drive quads, but want to catch the hunt at it,
rather than join in.
A real
country gentleman doesn’t belong to any particular one of the country tribes,
and defies stereotyping, but most country and sporting people have a clear idea
of what constitutes a real country gentleman, and equally firm views about the
fakes. As someone who has guided fishermen and game hunters all over the world,
Tarquin Millington-Drake has experience of both. He says, “A real country
gentleman is the classic all-rounder – someone who shoots, fishes and hunts (or
at least has affinity with all three); who knows their trees and wildflowers;
who knows how to handle vermin of all sorts; and who understands dogs. Such a
man or woman will have acute observation skills and great knowledge from the
proverbial ‘10,000 hours’ of doing all these things.”
As for the
fakes, Mark Gilchrist, pest controller extraordinaire and wild chef, warns:
“Fieldsports seem to be moving towards rewarding those with the mantra ‘Fake it
till you make it’, who believe that credibility can be bought rather than
earned. But a real country gentleman has millions of hours of first-hand
experience and, because they spend so much time out in the field, they rarely
appear on the radar of any of the media.”
The
countryside is changing – some might say disappearing – but a real country
gentleman never changes. Perhaps that is why it is so important to be able to
identify one. He may well remind us of our own failings, but the real country
gentleman is also a role model to follow.
Here’s a
rundown of the country tribes.
THE WELLY
SILLY
Easily
identifiable by their silly pink diamanté wellies (not gumboots), the Welly
Silly tribe is composed mainly of affluent townies and B-list celebrities. As
they can’t survive without at least 3G mobile, easy motorway access, a
delicatessen, super-fast broadband, a Harvey Nichols branch within 45 minutes’
drive and a BMW dealership, the Home Counties are the shires most heavily
infested by this tribe. However, they are gradually increasing their territory
westwards and northwards in pursuit of cheaper property. There is a colony in
Cheshire around Mottram St Andrew.
Wherever a
cluster of Welly Silly develops, it has a disproportionate effect on the area,
owing to the tribe’s great energy, media savvy and propensity to complain.
Some, such as former Bond girl and Medicine Woman Jane Seymour, even write
books (Jane Seymour’s Guide to Romantic Living) about how to run barefoot
through the dew-soaked grass, and so they naturally become exasperated when the
farmer has spent the night spreading 70 or 80 cubic metres of fresh muck over
the said dew. Little is printable about the farmer’s feelings on having his
grass (dew-soaked or otherwise) constantly run through. Many of the Welly Silly
tip over into full-on bunny-hugger, such as Queen guitarist Brian May, the
badgers’ new best-friend.
THE
TERRIER-ISTS
Probably
the most truly rural of all the tribes, and the most likely to contain a number
of real country gentlemen and women, the Terrier-ists give no thought to creed,
class, celebrity status or any other orientation, judging those they meet
solely on their ability to set a snare humanely and handle a ferret without
losing their dignity (or anything else). The name derives most obviously from
their being constantly accompanied by two or three Patterdale-cross (often
very cross) terriers, who live inside their overalls or ride on the back of the
quad. However, many people (especially the Welly Silly) believe the name
derives from their often terrifying demeanour and undeniable ability to
terrorise grockles, especially if they are Sabbing Antis .
Surprisingly,
though, it can be very easy to confuse a Terrier-ist with a Sabbing Anti, as
the Masters of Foxhounds Association (MFHA) knows to its cost. Both tribes tend
to charge around the countryside on quads wearing a lot of camo-gear. Tell-tale
differences include a ferret’s head peeping out of the Terrier-ist’s pocket,
and his propensity to call those on horseback Sir or Madam, something a Sabbing
Anti obviously never does. Rosie Whittaker, daughter of Sir Joseph Nickerson,
has more than a sneaking admiration for the Terrier-ist, as they fulfil her
criteria for the real country gentleman or woman of having “at least one
gundog, terrier(s) and some ferrets. They must also be able to make jam or gut
a pheasant, grow vegetables, keep chickens and know their trees.”
THE ROCK
‘N’ RURAL
The
highest-profile of all the country tribes is the Rock ’n’ Rural. Go to any
charity gig in the Westcountry and you will find it swarming with A-listers
from Sting to Kate Moss. The band playing at your friends’ wedding will feature
more rock legends than the Travelling Wilburys. The first thing every rock god,
film star or fashionista must do, having made a pile, is to buy a country pile.
Back in the
day, it started with Roger Daltrey (the Who) getting heavily into trout, along
with contemporaries Kenny Jones (the Small Faces), who started his own polo
club, and Charlie Watts (the Rolling Stones), who needed a retreat more than
most. Today the Rock ’n’ Rural tribe is as big as ever, with Matt Bellamy
(Muse), Marcus Mumford (Mumford and Sons) and Lily Allen all determinedly going
Westcountry. According to Downton Abbey’s creator, Julian Fellowes, that is
because, in the countryside, there’s no celebrity culture. “People are judged
on what they do rather than any wealth or fame they have.” He is right,
because, no matter how much money they contribute to the church roof, the Rock
’n’ Rurals are constantly judged by country standards. When Madonna was at the
height of her twee-tweeds phase, the word went out from loaders that the
cartridge ratio on the Ashcombe estate often exceeded the height of the birds.
.
But some
stars do become really rural, such as obsessive fisherman Chris De Margary
(Simply Red); Irish MFH James Brown (celebrity hairdresser) and Bryan Ferry’s
huntsman son, Otis. Blur captured the tribe perfectly in their 1995
chart-topper, Country House. Ironically, Blur bassist, Alex James, has now
become so rural that he makes his own cheese and writes about it in the Daily
Telegraph.
THE SABBING
ANTIS
Forget
animal welfare, forget legislation: hunt-sabbing is the new country sport, and
anyone who doubts this can go out on a winter Saturday and watch the tribe of
Sabbing Antis enjoying their fun. At first glance it is mainly the
expletive-laden sabbing language that distinguishes them from Terrier-ists –
though when the two tribes meet in battle, the vocabulary is extreme on both
sides.
Before the
Hunting Act, the tribe consisted mainly of rather charmingly ineffectual
students bussed in from nearby colleges and provided with sandwiches and a
promise from their girlfriends. Since the passing of the Hunting Act, they have
been replaced by a hard core of rural activists who get their kicks from
disrupting the lives of country people.
The paradox
is that they copy – indeed, participate in – that same lifestyle. They go
hunting every Saturday, and dress and behave much like Terrier-ists. If there
is no hunting, they sabotage shooting or even fishing instead. Bizarrely, they
have become just as much of a country tribe as any of the others – perhaps even
more so than the Silly Welly or the Country Faker tribes.
THE COUNTRY
FAKERS
The more
these would-be countrymen try to ape the real thing, the more obvious their
efforts, and the farther they are from success. Though a real country gentleman
may well possess a pair of green gumboots (often saved for best), the original
colour will have been so tarnished by peat bog and dog wee as to be barely
green at all, whereas the Country Faker’s gumboots are the box-fresh green of
the leather benches in the House of Commons.
It never
occurs to a Country Faker that a real country gentleman wears the right
footwear for the job, including trainers for beagling. In fact, the lack of
such observational skills, and general insensitivity to the workings of the
countryside, are among their distinguishing traits. Fishing and safari travel
organiser Tarquin Millington-Drake warns: “It’s the people prattling on, none
of it making sense, who don’t ring true.” Rabbit supremo and wild chef Mark
Gilchrist identifies money as a marker: “They throw money at the problem, like
those big, expensive pheasant days, on which they fundamentally misunderstand
how to use a shotgun. People who pay big bucks for sport are led to believe
they are doing something that is an achievement, but it wouldn’t even count as
sport to a real country gentleman, as it doesn’t offer the challenge of
outwitting the game.”
COUNTRYMEN
ON COUNTRYMEN
Falconer
Emma Ford, a former Young Countrywoman of the Year: “Real countrywomen have
the following identifying features – mud adhering to clothing; dis-cernible
whiff of dog; haunted look when presented with a(nother) brace of pheasant;
filthy 4×4; no manicure; omnipresent dog whistles round neck; glamour
sacrificed in the interests of practicality in choice of country clothing;
every hair out of place.”
John Pool,
international clay-shot and game-shooting instructor: “Misshapen tweed hat for
warmth, not effect. Seem simple, but as sharp as razors. Slow in offering
advice to newcomers on water courses, drains, etc, but quick to come to aid
with tractors at no charge, though bottle of Scotch never rejected.”
Fishing and
safari guide Tarquin Millington-Drake: “I would select a man called John Evans
as a real country gentleman. He’s the scruffiest Old Etonian I know, but he can
fish for anything in fresh or salt, shoot, trap or whatever anything else,
knows his onions in every regard and is as tough as old boots.”
Grouse
woman Rosie Whittaker: “Hunting and being able to tow a trailer confidently,
especially being able to reverse – I’m in awe of people who can do that. And
never complaining about the weather if she’s about to go hunting, shooting or
fishing.”
Gunmaker
Mark Crudgington: “They are few and far between. A real country gentleman is
someone who has an intimate knowledge of the agricultural workings of the
countryside old and new, an understanding and sympathy for true rural people as
well as an encyclopaedic knowledge of the rural flora and fauna. The 10th Duke
of Beaufort stood out for me as a real country gentleman.”
Wild chef
Mark Gilchrist: “A real country gentleman creates all their own sport from
scratch – they don’t need a syndicate membership, gamekeeper, stalker, guide,
friend or family member, just a map of the farm. Above all, they don’t need to
tell people they are the real deal.”
Top shot
Lord James Percy: “A real country gentleman notices everything – subtle changes
in the seasons, the weather, the way the crows are flying, pigeon are feeding,
sheep are standing, cattle are lying down. He knows where the weather is coming
from. He knows how to skin a rabbit, gralloch a deer and guddle a trout. He
knows how to fill the pot with fish or fowl, not just by sporting fly or driven
bird but by long-netting and ferreting. He relishes a rat-hunt – digging deep
and not letting up until the brute is nailed. He knows trees and plants, little
birds, tractors and chainsaws and generally looks after his kit. His logs are
always in. He doesn’t shout at his dogs – just a low whistle and gentle
encouragement. Oh, and a real country gentleman has a knowing smile when the
spivs are out.”
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