Golf

Someone once described the game of golf as 'a good walk through beautiful countryside, spoiled by the need to hit a silly little ball'.

A famous golfer, who was also a mathematician, had a more objective description:

'In the game of golf, you place a little ball-four centimetres in diameter, on a large ball-thirteen thousand kilometres in diameter. Then you take a golf club and try to hit the little ball without touching the large one.'

In England golf remains a fairly exclusive sport. There are hundreds of clubs all over the country. But members have to be elected by a committee. And subscriptions are not cheap.

However, many towns have municipal golf courses where, for less than the price of a cinema ticket, a visitor can play an enjoyable round of golf. The Scots, with their inimitable sense of value-for-money, have more of these than anyone else.

But then, the Scots are also great golfers. The most famous golf course in the world is the Royal and Ancient Club of St. Andrews, which is just outside Edinburgh.

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The Price of Smoking

Smoking is an expensive habit. Cigarettes in England are among the most expensive in Europe. And cigars are only for the rich.

A millionaire came out of the Ritz Hotel. As he walked towards his car, a tramp stood in his path: 'Cor !' he said. 'I like your cigar! Do they cost a lot, cigars like that?'

'As a matter of fact, they do', said the millionaire. 'I have them specially imported from Cuba - they work out at about five pounds each.'

'Five pounds each! You don't stint youself, do you ? Haw many do you smode a day?'

'Oh, about twenty..' 'Twenty times five pounds! 'Do you realize, that's a hundred pounds a day! Three thousand pounds a month!

Do you realize...If you didn't smoke, in only a few years you could buy the Ritz Hotel... 'Oh,really?' said the millionaire. 'And do you smoke?'

'Oh,no. I've never touched a cigar in my life.' 'Well, what are you waiting for ?' Why don't you buy the Ritz Hotel?...We can do business here and now - it belongs to me!'

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Never Say Die!

Jeffrey Archer was a Member of Parliament and a rich and successful businessman - one of life's winners.

Then his world crashed about his ears. He went bankrupt.

He sold his house and his luxury car, gave up his seat in Parliament, and scratched his head.

But he did not give up hope. With time on his hands, he wrote a novel. From then on the story is too good to be true. The npvel became a best-seller. So did the next one. Jeffrey Archer became one of the most successful writers in Britain and he paid off his debts.

There is a famous precedent for this. At the beginning of the 19th century, Sir Walter Scoot, a succesfull poet and also Sheriff in the Scottish Court, went into partnership with an old schoolfriend. Their business was printing and publishing. But in 1813 they were nearly bankrupt.

Scoot wrote more than three novels a year to keep the company out of trouble. His books were hugely succesfull, and when he died in 1831 his work amounted to forty-eight volumes of novels and tales, and twelve volumes of poetry.

They include Rob Roy, Ivanhoe and the story which Donizetti used for his famous opera, Lucia di Lammermoor.

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A Place of My Own

Every Englishman dreams of having a place of his own, with a garden.

Most have to make do with a place that belongs to someone else.

For 30% of the population this means 'Council' accommodation on a council estate. This property is state owned and subsidized. Another 14% pay rent for flats or houses owned by private landlords.

But a suprising 55% do manage to realize the dream.

Subirbia in England is made up of thousnads of small privately owned houses with carefully tended gardens. Often they are behind the houses.

In summer, even the drabest street may be concealing a breathtaking horicultural display.

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Dr. Livingstone - I presume

The African jungle is not the sort of place where you expect to hear the courtesies of the Gentleman's Club. And the people who explored the jungle in the 19th century were not the sort of people you could describe as gentlemen either. far from it!

But one man was exceptional - David Livingstone. His strong, saint-like personality earned him the love and admiration of people from Scotland to San Francisco.

His last expedition is the one that everyone remembers. It was a long and terrible experience. For years he was completely cut off from the outside world. But when H.M. Stanley, the American journalist, finally found him in the heart of equatorial Africa, He greeted the old Doctor with those courteous and now immortal words: "Dr. Livingstone, I presume".

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The Good Old Days

With his heart his mouth, the young man faces the proud father. He declares his love for the cherished daughter and ask for the cherished daughter and ask for 'her hand in marriage'.

The father satisfies himself that the young man will be able to keep his daughter 'in the manner to which she is accustomed'; and then gives his consent. The couple are engaded.

Plays and novels have immortalised this ritual over and over again. In the best stories the proud father refuses his consent and the lovers elope - with dramatic consequences.

But in 1969 the law spoilt everything. The age of constent was reduced to 18. All over the country love-sick daughters stopped pleading and nervous young men relaxed. The tension and drama vanished.

'Getting angaged' has never recoreved. Girls still wear engagement rings on the left hand (men don't, for some reason). Anouncements still appear n the newspapers. But it's not like the good old days.

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What is 'The City'

One of the popular myths about Britain is that all the men wear bowler hats - hard round affairs, usually black.

In fact, most Enlishmen don't wear hats at all and bowlers are a rare sight. Some visitors find this disappointing.

But there is a place where you can see a bowler hat on almost every head - the City.

Greater London, which is nearly 48 kilometres across contains two cities.The City of Westminster is where the Queen lives and the Houses of Parliament are.

The City (of London) is the other. It is quite small, about 2.5 square kilometres in size. At night it is almost deserted. But by day it is the financial centre of the country and an important part of the international financial community.

Naturally, the people who work there like to inspire confidence. And nothing inspires confidence. And nothing inspires confidence more than a pin-stripe suit and a bowler hat.

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Fast Food

Fast food is for people in a hurry. It's for people who want a meal, but don't want to cook it.

Fast food is for people who get hungry, but don't want to stop to eat.

The traditional English fast food is fish and chips-pieces of cod fried in batter, served with chips in greaseproff paper, and wrapped in a newspaper.

Fish and chip shops are still firm favourites. But there are few High Streets in England which don't have at least one American-style fast food restaurant. The meat is always chicken or hambugers. There are sauces and ketchups to brighten up to taste. And of course, chips (or French fries, as the Americans like to call them)

As a matter of fact, the British eat more potatoes than anyone in the world. With an average consumption of 107 Kgs a head per year, it's not suprising to find chips with everyting on the menu.

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A Man's Best Friend

Are the British formal, reserved and unemotional? Or are they kind, loving and demonstrative?

The comic streotype of Englishman who, even in a tropical jungle, dresses correctly for dinner, and who unflinchingly maintains a stiff-upper-lip at all times, has more than a grain of truth in it.

But if a society's attitude to dumb animals shows anything, the British are also the most warm-hearted people on Earth. Between them they keep 5.7 million dogs, 5.2 million cats and 1.8 million budgeriars. That's a combined total of about 13 million pets, or one for every four members of the population.

And that's not counting mice, goldfish or parrots. Feeding this army of animals costs an astonishing £ 526 millon a year.

Perhaps the Britsh are both. Perhaps they keep pets because they are warm-hearted and reserved.

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Memorials

Everybody remembers Shakespeare. But few Londoners have even noticed that there is a statue of him in the middle of Leicester Square.

He stares poetically at the doors of discotheque - with a cinema to his right and another behind him. Scholars are dismayed. But Shakespeare himself would certainly approve. His great poetry rose out of the popular culture of his day. And some say that if he were alive today he would probably be making films, or writing pop songs.

You can't help noticing Nelson's Column. It is one of the landmarks of London. In 1849, just before the statue of the famous admiral was hoisted into position, the directors of building company celebrated the completion of the immense column byhaving lunch at the top of it.

The philosopher, Jeremy Bentham (died 1832) coined the phrase "The greatest happiness of the greast number". He has no statue. Instead, his skeleton sits in the corridor of University Colloge, London wearing some of his old clothes. An appropriate memorial to a Utilitarian.

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