Last Night of the Proms
Sunday, September 14th, 2008
When I was a child, I used to love the Last Night of the Proms. I found the combination of music, cheery flag waving, dinner suits and silly hats, all in the beautiful surrounds of the Royal Albert Hall, a heady combination. To my young eyes, it was like watching a surreal ‘foreign’ world full of happy people singing (the sort of people who had probably grown up in thatched roof cottages and had regularly enjoyed boarding school midnight feasts). It had a magical allure and I was glued to the TV every time it was on.
A few years ago I actually managed to get tickets for the same event through a friend. The first half was ace. For one, you’re in the Royal Albert Hall which is always a delight and the performances that night were fabulous – Andreas Scholl singing Handel and Purcell and John Williams playing Rodrigo’s Concierto de Aranjuez.
But then came the second half. Although I knew to expect all the usual patriotic tunes, I didn’t quite anticipate the impact of them. At first I soaked up the emotion of the atmosphere with contented amusement. However, as the evening wore on and everyone else was carried away on a tide of patriotic fervour, bemusement turned to bewilderment. What looked like harmless fun on TV, felt creepy and curiously un-British in real life.
I found myself quite frankly unnerved by the serious faces of my fellow prommers as they gustily sung along to Elgar’s Pomp and Circumstance i.e. Land of Hope and Glory and positively squeamed my way through Rule Britannia. By the time we got to the national anthem all my love for this country (and my own parentage) had evaporated and been replaced by a strange overwhelming desire to wave an Australian flag around, one with the Union Jack ripped out, and shout republican slogans. Patriotism is a funny thing.
I didn’t watch it this year.







