Rosa 'Scepter'd Isle' & Rosa 'St. Swithun' - 24 June 2024

This royal throne of kings, this sceptred isle, This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars. This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England. Landlord of England art thou and not king. Gaunt, Act 2 Scene 1 – Richard III – William Shakespeare

 St. Swithun (or Swithin; Old English: Swīþhūn; Latin: Swithunus; died 863) was an Anglo-Saxon bishop of Winchester and subsequently patron saint of Winchester Cathedral. His historical importance as bishop is overshadowed by his reputation for posthumous miracle-working. Wikipedia

Sometime in the early 90s Rosemary came from the yearly summer VanDusen plant sale and told me, “Alex I saw a rose today at the Phoenix Perennials booth that I must buy. The woman who owns the company told me that I can go tonight when the plant sale closes and I can get it.”

The rose that Rosemary brought was an English Rose called Rosa ‘St. Swithun’ that had an unusual smell the English call myrrh. When I looked up who St. Swithun was I found out that when his body was moved from one church to another it rained for almost 45 days. That legend persists. Because he was Bishop at Winchester Cathedral I also have the English Rose, Rosa 'Winchester Cathedral'. Not the lovely odd little bits of rose pink in some of the petals.

Rosa 'Winchester Cathedral' - 24 June 2024

Because we adored the myrrh scent we bought several English Roses with that smell. One was Rosa ‘Scepter’d Isle’.

The above is to introduce the topic of my Englishness. My father was born in Buenos Aires but his father Harry and mother Ellen Carter were from Manchester.  Until I left for Mexico in 1953 in my Buenos Aires neighbourhood of Cohglan (an English railway engineer), I was el inglesito (the little English boy) my two best friends were Miguelito el italiano and Mario el alemán (German).

I have a distinct memory of June 2, 1953. My mother called me to lunch and told me to wash my hands and knees (I wore short pants as I was 11). I answered, “Mother I cannot. I am listening to the coronation of my queen,”

When I returned to Buenos Aires in 1965 to do my military service in the Argentine Navy I was quick to tell my friends that the white lines in my sailor collar uniform represented the battles the Nelson won. Every month I would donate blood to the British Hospital for two reasons. With the proof of the donation I was given a free day from service and the hospital treated me to a thé completo which included toast with Devon cream.

My uncle Freddy Hayward (born in Buenos Aires) always wore his St. Andrew’s Scot School blazer and smoked on his English pipes. Since I also smoked a pipe he gave me a lovely and valuable English Bewlay pipe. I would be invited for tea on Sundays and my Aunt Iris would make fabulous devilled ham. The English of Buenos Aires were called Anglo/Argentines and they acted more English than the English.

Thus depending on the day, to this day, I sometimes feel Argentine, Mexican, Canadian and yes English.

In one of my kitchen drawers I have over 10 varieties of very good English loose tea. For years my breakfast has started with a large and strong mug of tea. Like the English I add little milk.

My mother had a keen sense of smell and she constantly would smell the back of my ears and would tell me that I smelled like an en Englishman. To this day I can remember my father’s smell which was combination of the Player’s Navy Cut Cigarettes he smoked, his Harris Tweed jackets and the Argentine brand of whiskey called  Old Smuggler.

But since my grandmother in Spain I am undecided whom I like more, Shakespeare or Cervantes. 

As a last note, when I took my granddaughter Rebecca to meet my first cousin and godmother Inecita Kuker I told her, "Rebecca, Elizabeth, the queen of England has the same accent as Inecita. I can say this to you because Inecita was born before the Queen.