"Oh, England, my Lionheart,
Peter Pan steals the children in Kensington Park"
Thus sung Kate Bush in 1977.
Is this what it means to be English?

It is said that being English is about driving in a German car to an Irish pub for a Belgian beer, then travelling home, grabbing an Indian curry or a Turkish kebab on the way, to sit on Swedish furniture and watch American shows on a Japanese TV.
And to be very suspicious of anything foreign......

Or being idiosyncratic, like train spotters.

Let's lay this "British" nonsense to rest: if you're British this means you're English. Scots, Welsh and Northern Irelanders have their own distinct cultures but they're not British. This may be an untrendy view.

Rather than just travel abroad, I've tried to visit as many parts of England as I can. Some parts dismayed, others delighted. I have travelled England on foot, by bicycle, by car, by train, by aircraft and by boat. Each has it's own perspective on the land, the people and the weather.

The landscape in our country varies endlessly, and often in a very short distance. Perhaps that's one of the defining aspects of being English; that and the weather..... After all, we do not have a climate, just lots of weather.

Walking is an undervalued pastime, best approached with a dog, who will be your constant companion, eager to explore and needing the exercise. The land passes slowly, smells are readily apparent, the rhythm of walking is natural to the human psyche.

The downsides of walking are that you don't get anywhere very fast, you are open to the elements, and having walked somewhere generally you need to walk back to your car. When we walked the Grand Union in sections we used both cars and dropped one at a canal bridge then drove to the other end of the walk, walked the section towards the first car and picked up the second car. Logistically complex but very effective.

The bicycle is without a doubt the simplest and cleverest mode of transport every devised. Not only will it keep you fit but you can cover a surprising amount of ground in an hour. My digital gadget tells me I average 19.2mph which means that in an hour I can go from central Abingdon to central Oxford.

I love cycling: when I was young I'd go out all day on my trusty green Hercules with it's Sturmey-Archer 3-speed gearbox that was always going wrong and wearing out. I'd cycle all over South Oxfordshire, from the age of about 8 (would I have the same freedom nowadays?) with a sandwich and a spanner in my luminous orange saddle bag. Then I had a break for 20 years during which I swam a lot and the Hercules died.
Returning to cycling in my late 30s things had changed. Handlebars had dropped, aluminium had been invented and the derailleur gear-change had rendered Mr Sturmey and Mr Archer redundant. Using a third-hand 21-speed (21-speed!!) Kalkhoff was a revelation. Less than half the weight of the Hercules and with a whizzo gearbox, this was like being Lance Armstrong. Hills? Pah! Change down a few cogs and stand up. Since then I've worked my way through a few bikes, ending up with the present