CheckLists

My youngest daughter is safely through A levels to her preferred university, studying her preferred course, a four year MEng. in general engineering.

& of course I have managed to mislay the list of things that we need to do now but to a certain extent it’s all just waiting to hear back from the university on accommodation.

We’ll need to set up a student bank account, which means taking a look around to see what each one offers. In practical terms it’s easiest to open an account if a parent already has an account there, but that gives us a choice of 3-4 banks. That’s a morning trip to the nearest branch and an hour or so spent filling forms. At the same time we could update here ISA savings account to make it an adult account she can link to her current account for savings. It’s not a bad idea to get them started saving a small sum each month.

We need to organise a student railcard though its a university where it makes sense to drive for the second and third year so maybe not a railcard for all 3 years.

Assuming that she gets offered self-catering then we will need to dig out whatever is left and still suitable from her sister’s first year (single quilt and bedlinen hopefully) before heading off to Ikea or similar to buy some pots and pans etc.

University checklist: Important documents

  • Passport (or other ID)
  • All official university correspondence, including acceptance letter
  • All student loan correspondence (to keep track of when your loan is due, and so you can follow up if necessary)
  • Details of accommodation and contract
  • Bank account details and recent bank correspondence
  • Bank card
  • National insurance card/details
  • Student discount cards (e.g. 16-25 Railcard, NUS card)

University checklist: Electricals

  • Laptop or desktop computer
  • Mobile phone and charger
  • Extension cable/s
  • USB memory stick (for backing up important assignments)
  • Headphones
  • Speakers

University checklist: Stationery

  • Pens and pencils
  • A4 lined notepad(s)
  • A4 binder(s)
  • Highlighters
  • Post-it notes
  • Calendar/diary
  • Paper clips
  • Stapler
  • Sticky tape
  • Course readers and other study books

University checklist: Kitchenware

  • Cutlery (tea spoons, tablespoons, knives and forks – enough for yourself)
  • Crockery (plates, bowls and mugs – enough for yourself)
  • Other utensils (e.g. chopping board and sharp knife, wooden spoon, spatula, cheese grater, potato masher, colander, bottle opener, tin opener)
  • Saucepan and frying pan
  • Kettle and or toaster for own room
  • Scissors (do not attempt to double up as toenail clippers)
  • Baking tray
  • Tupperware container(s)
  • Washing up liquid and sponge
  • Recipe book
  • Snacks (going to university without biscuits is like going to Barbados without a sunhat)
  • TeaTowel

University checklist: Bedroom

  • Mattress protector
  • Duvet and pillows (at least 3 pillows because they’re useful cushions if you have guests in your room, and you want guests)
  • Duvet cover and pillow covers
  • Blankets
  • Laundry bin (doesn’t have to be wicker, a large and strong plastic bag will do!)
  • Clothes hangers
  • Alarm clock (as a backup for the day when you inevitably drop your phone down the toilet)
  • Desk lamp
  • Ear plugs
  • doorstop

University checklist: Bathroom

  • Toothbrush and toothpaste
  • Wash bag (especially useful if you’re sharing a bathroom which is a short walk away from your bedroom)
  • Soap
  • Shampoo and conditioner, Shower gel
  • Deodorant
  • Razor
  • Towel (x2)
  • Hand towel
  • Flannel
  • Hair brush, hairdryer
  • Toilet roll
  • Tampons/sanitary towels

University checklist: Healthcare

  • Any personal medications and prescriptions
  • Basic first aid kit (e.g. pain relief tablets, plasters, cold and flu medication, allergy tablets, antibacterial lotion or spray)
  • Details of current GP and doctor’s surgery
  • Glasses and prescription
  • Multivitamins
  • Birth control pills and/or condoms

Note: All new university students should register with a local doctor’s surgery early on in university life. This will save you having to wait for hours at a drop-in center filling out forms on the day that you’re actually ill.

University checklist: Miscellaneous

  • Sturdy bag (capable of carrying stacks of books)
  • Photographs of friends and family
  • Small sewing kit
  • Matches or a lighter
  • Films/TV series boxsets
  • Board/card games (e.g. Monopoly, Hungry Hippos or a pack of cards)
  • Hair dryer/ hair straighteners etc.

 

White nougat with dried apricot and cherry

A fudgy, light mix of caramel and meringue, studded with toasted nuts and fruit

Tamal Ray’s white nougat with dried apricot and cherry.

Nougat is basically a caramel whisked into egg white. Once you’ve got the hang of it, you can customise it with all sorts of flavours: different dried fruits, nuts, orange zest and spices. Go and experiment. You will need a sugar thermometer for this.

Prep 10 min
Cook 25 min
Serves 4-6

40g hazelnuts
40g almonds
50g dried apricots
50g dried cherries
1 large egg white
250g granulated or caster sugar
50g golden syrup
50g honey

Roast the nuts at 200C/390F/gas 6, for six to eight minutes, until browned. Chop the dried apricots the same size as the dried cherries.

Have the egg white ready to whip in the bowl of a stand mixer. Put the sugar, syrup and 100ml water in a pan, and heat over a medium flame, stirring gently to dissolve the sugar. Brush down any sugar crystals from the side of the pan with a wet pastry brush.

Once the mixture starts to boil, stop stirring ( the sugars may recrystallise if you do). Continue to boil until it reaches 145C.

Take the pan off the heat and pour in the honey. Swirl it around the pan until evenly mixed, then return to the heat. The mixture will bubble up; continue to heat for a further few minutes until it’s back to 145C.

Meanwhile, turn the stand mixer on high to whip the egg white to stiff peaks. Turn off the mixer, pour a little of the molten sugar into the egg foam and pulse for a few seconds until mixed, then repeat, adding a little sugar syrup at a time, until you’ve used it all up. Continue to whip on high for two minutes, until it starts to thicken, then stir in the nuts and fruit.

Pour out on to a sheet of greaseproof paper, spreading it out into a roughly rectangular shape. Top with another sheet of paper, then roll into a 2cm-thick slab.

Once completely cooled, peel off the paper and use a sharp knife to cut into strips.

Snaefellsness Peninsula, Iceland

We headed north out of Reykjavik towards the Snaefellssness Peninsula and despite ending up at a lovely hotel, were stuck in the worst, smallest rooms there so suffered a bit. Since every hotel room costs an extraordinary amount, anything less than good feels like a cheat, and no room with less than a square meter of full-headheight space could be described as good.

Hotel Egilson

With only one day to pause before heading north to the Westfjords, we headed out across the peninsula in the rain and fog.

Through the mist

And despite the gloominess there was a grandeur to it, as well as quite a lot of water.

There were plenty of open spaces and views, cute bakeries and traditional churches; all with the most sparse and unforgiving background I’ve ever come across.

The long road through the lupins

It really was very bleak grandeur, punctuated by the very occasional bungalow. It seems that the Icelandic people are utilitarian to the core.

Cold Lava Flows
Trolls hideaway

Except there are glimpses of pure whimsy, where caverns and caves are described as being the hang-out of trolls with “luscious” daughters.

And back at the hotel, the sun came out to shine.

Shame it didn’t last for the ferry ride north.

Iceland

Planning a trip to Iceland was a strange business. Everyone who has been raves about the place and about the ring road, but when you drill down, none of them seems to have completed the entire circuit around the island.

It seemed logical to plan a round trip by looking at the ring road and any detours, setting aside 2-3 nights at each stop, and trying not to end up with too many all-day drives. It helps to focus on what you regard as the highlights of a visit, which for me is always about the photography, which roughly translates as landscape, animals and city scenes.

Hiring a car in Iceland seems ridiculously expensive, especially if you plan to include any gravel roads or a trip to the Highlands interior which requires a four wheel drive vehicle. We end up paying around £3,000 for 20 days.

The Summer weather isn’t great even by UK standards so I expected rain and around 15-20C but it could be worse: it was worse.

Iceland is obviously said to be a landscape photographer’s dream. There are glaciers, ice flows breaking up in the bay, moon-like lava fields, beaches with black, red and pink sand, geysers and hot springs, and an over-abundance of waterfalls almost everywhere.

When it comes to animals they have puffins and whales. There’s only one city, Reykjavik, but I was hoping for some wonderful modern architecture combined with some more traditional buildings.

It’s also worth remembering how expensive food can be in Iceland. A simple bowl of soup for lunch (or sandwiches) with tap water to drink, ends up costing around £15 per head. A rather unimpressive pizza would cost around £30 in a pizzeria in Akureyri. Whenever we sat down in a cafe (we decided restaurants were just too much) we spent at least £100.

So around half of the accommodation is self-catering. A quick look through receipts suggests a block of cheddar would cost £7, a loaf of bread £3 etc – so also not cheap.

At this stage of totting up the extraordinary costs, I realised that cheaper shortfall flights (around £1,000 for four of us) were not going to offset enough of the living costs – it’s an expensive trip with car hire and hotel bills adding up to around £12,000 for four people. for three weeks. Cut it down to two weeks and you’re looking at around £9,000. To cut it down even further, you could use airbnb accommodation throughout, or even hostels.

Food is taxed quite heavily in Iceland, plus it starts expensive because much of it has to be imported whilst for home grown or made food, labour costs are typically high making production costs high.

So the itinerary ended up looking something like this in my head, amended with strike throughs and italics for what actually happened:

  • Arrive Reykavik:  Reykavik Residences £1,600: 2nights, self catering arriving late so really only 1 full day
    • Whale Watching Didn’t happen on a rainy blustery day
    • Modern architecture, cathedral & Harpa Concert Hall & Civic Centre, Old Harbour, basically an excuse to mooch about;
  • Transfer to Hotel Egilsen, Snaefellsnes PeninsulaWest Iceland £1,000: 2 nights bed and breakfast;
    • On the way there are some landscape sights to see views of  Vogelmir etc.
    • Saxholl Crator, Gerduberg Basalt Columns (Snaefellsjokull National Park) Stykkisholmir Harbour (ferry)
  • Transfer to Hotel Latrabjarg £1,400 bed, breakfast and supper: Westfjords by ferry and car: 3 nights
    • Puffins on the Latrabjarg Cliffs, the most westerly point of Europe. Raudasandyr beach for a walk and seal hunt.
    •  Dynjandi waterfall
  • Transfer to Akureyi Apartment, for a full day (7 hour) drive: 3 nights, £550 self catering:
    • Whale watching from Husavik Akureyri, which basically has a family of three humpbacks living in its huge fjord £250 (3 people).
    • Dettifoss  – just had enough of gravel roads by this stage so Dettifoss was out but Goðafoss Waterfall was in, on the route through to the Eastfjords..
    • Lava castles at Myvatn
    • Trollskagi drive & views
  • Transfer to Fosshotel, Eastfjords £1,300 3 nights bed and breakfast;
    • Puffins at Borgarfjorddur – just too long a drive on gravel tracks, so abandoned this in favour of a smaller route closer to home
    • Seydisfjordur – which turned out to be a very pretty town on a sunny day.
  • Transfer to Fosshotel Glacier, South East Iceland £1,100 2 nights, bed ad breakfast;
    • Stopping at Hofn for lunch –  note that food in Iceland is not one of its selling points but soup and bread for lunch became a mainstay of our trip.
    • Jokulsarlon lagoon & glaciers, Fjallsorlan
    • Lakagigar Laki Visitor trail
    • Fagrifoss waterfall
  • Transfer to Hotel Skogar, South Iceland: 2 nights self catering £1,000;
    • Vik beach & puffins
    • Skogarfoss, Seljalandsfoss – no gravel roads, but after this number of days, who needed another waterfall.
  • Transfer to Hotel Stracta, South West iceland £1,300 : 3 nights bed and breakfast ;
    • Gullfoss, Geysir & other bits and pieces within distance of Reykavik including possibly the Blue Lagoon –  by this stage of the holiday, we’re all basically retreating into our wifi and trying to do as little as possible.
    • Brief trip into highlands Kjolur Route – just not going to happen at the end of the holiday 
    • Anything left over from the initial day in Reykavik e.g. Arbaer Open Air Museum which turned out to be a perfect, very undemanding visit, just right for the last day.
  • Transfer to Reykavik Airport and fly home.

And quite a few of the people who have been to Iceland and loved it, still add up the number of days and shake their heads at three weeks worth of holiday there. I just can’t see how to cut it down further without skimping on something.

Picnic

After a tennis match, the Home team provides a meal for the 12 people who have played. Since our club is tiny and comes without a kitchen, we all take some food along and essentially have a picnic afterwards.

So looking forward to the next match, I’m thinking that we’ll have something along the following:

  • Puff Pastry Tart – essentially an assemble job with tomato sauce, pesto and antipasti leftover from the weekend
  • Potato and leek frittata – basically the stuff you find at the bottom of your fridge and cupboards
  • Green salad (probably Nigel Slaters, fennel salad with parmesan dressing)
  • Tabbouleh, though maybe using quinoa rather than cracked wheat because I’ve got some cooked lying around in the fridge.

And someone will bring along either bread and butter, a fruit salad or pre-prepared desert like tiramisu, whilst another will bring wine and beer to the party.

& even though it’s all very simple and easy to make it will taste brilliant after three hours playing tennis.

Today

Wake up and reach for the coffee.

Deal with the dead (almost mummified) mouse corpse behind the fireplace. So much for the cat sitter not finding any rodents.

Discover the very lively mouse cowering at the back of the grate, and with the help of two out of three cats, corner it and trap it in a glass. It looks like we’re back to the days of our mouse “catch and release” programme.

Have a couple of conversations with the neighbours whilst re-locating the mouse including the guys with the bruiser who terrorises my babies. Managed to keep it civil. His fat cat has been put on a diet, which might explain some of it’s grumpy menace.

Elsewhere agreed to visit my very elderly next-door neighbour to ostensibly to chat about her garden, but basically to schedule some time to chat see how she’s getting on. Wondering vaguely whether there will be people around to take an interest in us when we’re in our 90s or whether it will even be considered normal or acceptable to show an interest in your elderly neighbours. Obviously I am also hugely interested in her lovely garden as well, not least because it’s always great to crib ideas.

Lunch.

Had a tennis lesson and got things together for tonight’s mini-tournament of mixed doubles.

Looked through the garden now that the weather has broken to a more manageable 25C to determine what has survived and what has not. There are lots of gaps up on the gravel roof after 6 weeks of no rain and 30C and some surprising survivals. One of the perennial wallflowers has died but there’s another in a pot to replace it. All of the roses and iris have survived (some judicious watering while we were away).

Engaged in a few political conversations on-line to absolutely no obvious effect, but at least I’ve tried. I find the current political climate entirely without rhyme or reason.

Sorted through some more of the photos from Iceland – still difficult to believe that it was so grey and gloomy – and finding it odd that it’s such a difficult country to photograph well. Maybe the landscapes are just too big to capture easily.  Certainly the details are much more easily captured with endless decent pictures of cute puffins.

& now I’m off to taxi the kids around. Surely by now they should be driving themselves, even in London?

Reykjavik

All cities are sad in the rain, but perhaps none more so than Reykavik.

Reykjavik Street Scene
Reykjavik LGBT Club
Reykjavik Street Scene

I was expecting some bright and modern architecture which was strangely lacking apart from two stand out buildings: the cathedral and the Hella Concert Hall down by the harbour.

The cathedral is almost Lutheran in its severity, built from what appears to be concrete.

Reykavik cathedral

The interior is incredibly plain and simple, though with glorious height.

Cathedral Interior
Altar

The details are incredibly sharp and austere.

Side Arches

Ceiling detail

It also has the most gloriously over the top organ pipes and down to earth organ keys.

Organ detail
organ Pipes Detail
Organ from below

And down by the waters the concert hall certainly looks sharp, but with no sun to lift it, also a bit dour, maybe even dowdy.

Hella Concert Centre
Hella Concert Centre detail

And all set against slate grey waters.

Reykjavik harbour

Oh dear!

Stockpile versus Hoarding

So my country has gone from madness to political madness and now people are seriously talking about the need to stockpile food in the event we bomb out of the EU onto WTO only rules. The UK produces just 60% of its own food. It is curiously unprepared for obligatory self-sufficiency, or even the kind of delays that a sudden change in customs might require for a just-in-time supply chain for supermarkets.

Living in relatively wealthy London will either be a decisive advantage or disadvantage. We have a lot of people living in close proximity to each other, which means more people fighting over the final few tomatoes in the shop, but it also means that the first place people will bring their goods to sell will be well-to-do London, where people can afford the higher prices and the stuff can be sold quickly and easily.

What sort of stockpile of food might we put together?

Sweden’s government delivered leaflets to 4.8m Swedish households, inviting them to consider how they could best cope in a situation of “major strain … in which society’s normal services are not working as they usually do”. The government had in mind all kinds of crises – natural disasters, terrorism, cyber attacks, all-out war – but the basic survival strategy for all of them was the food hoard.

The leaflet recommended that every home lay down a stock of non-perishables:

  • specifically breadstuffs with a long shelf-life (the leaflet mentioned tortillas and crackers),
  • dried lentils and beans,
  • tinned hummus and sardines,
  • ravioli,
  • rice,
  • instant mashed potato,
  • energy bars

Switzerland has long had a similar sense of foreboding: legislation passed in the cold war still demands that every citizen has access to a nuclear shelter. But the list of recommended foods to be kept in the larder (or bunker) in case the worst happens is, as one would expect of Switzerland, more thorough. “Tick the items you need on the following list … and ensure that you always have them in stock” is the advice of the Swiss civil defence authorities. The list begins with

  • nine litres of water per person (for an emergency lasting three or four days)
  • pepper and salt,
  • dry sausage,
  • dried fruit and pulses,
  • tinned meat and fish,
  • hard cheese,
  • pet food and
  • condensed milk, chocolate, sugar, jam, honey and crispbread.

And I don’t seriously believe that the water supply would be threatened so I’ll not be building up a stock of water bottles, but I am considering some of the rest. I’m also considering stockpiling some alcohol to get us through the first few months of readjustment to this brave new world. My list looks something like this:

  • wine, beer, cider
  • breadstuffs with a long life, crackers, crispbread and pastry snacks
  • lentils and beans, whether dried, tinned or packaged ready-to-eat
  • dried pasta
  • olive oil
  • rice, especially carnaroli/arborio
  • spices, ketchup, long life bottled/canned chilli sauce, garlic puree, ginger puree, tomato puree,
  • dark chocolate
  • dried pet food

And all of this fades into total insignificance compared to the risks to the medical supply chain into the UK.

No insulin is made in the UK: it can’t be by March.  So a no deal Brexit threatens our insulin supply according to medicines regulator Sir Michael Rawlings.

What are the government going to do to prevent type-1 diabetics dying ?

Radish Salad

A recipe for when you buy mooli, a large radish, and then forget why OR having any number of bags of radish at the bottom of the fridge or fresh picked from the garden. Peppery radishes bring freshness to a herb and sumac salad
Anna Jones’s radish, sumac and fresh herb salad.

Radishes are at their best now. They are, of course,perfectly fine when simply salted and dipped in butter, but they can also carry a salad with a bit of bite.

Radish, sumac and herb salad (pictured above)

You can use a mandoline or food processor to speed up the radish chopping. A mixture of honey and balsamic vinegar will stand in for the pomegranate molasses if you can’t get hold of it.

Prep 15 min
Serves 4-6

500g radishes either standard or include some mooli
A few ice cubes
1-2 large oranges (optional)

3 tbsp pomegranate molasses
1 tbsp extra-virgin olive oil
1 small clove garlic, peeled and finely chopped
2 tsp sumac
Salt and black pepper
1-2 springs mint, leaves picked and roughly chopped
1 small bunch parsley, leaves picked and roughly chopped

Cut the radishes from their tops and wash both well, picking out any wilting or yellow leaves. Slice the radishes finely, with a mandoline if you have one, and put in a bowl of cold water with the ice, so that they crisp up.

Roughly chop about half the radish tops, keeping the others in the fridge to use another day.

In a small bowl, mix the pomegranate molasses with the oil, garlic and sumac, and add a good pinch of salt and pepper.

When you are ready to eat, drain the radishes and pat dry, then put in a large bowl with the chopped radish tops and herbs. Pour over the dressing and toss, seasoning to taste with salt and pomegranate molasses. Serve immediately.

English

My daughters are English. I am not. We all live in England, but in London so does that really count? What does it mean to feel yourself to be first and foremost English and only British as an afterthought?

A lot has been written since 2016 about whether the Brexit vote marked an eruption of English nationalism.  Explicit English nationalism remains nonexistent or dormant, not active, unlike other nationalisms in these islands. That the Brexit vote was, in part, an immense expression of English identity is, on the other hand, beyond dispute.

Recently the BBC has been reporting on English identity. Most of it is based on a large survey by YouGov that explores the language, contours and contexts of that identity. Its findings should be a real wake-up call for anybody who is serious about modern British politics, especially on the left.

The fundamental finding in the BBC’s English Question surveys is that 80% of people in England strongly self-identify as English.

On one level this is hardly surprising. England is where they live. It’s where most of them were born. But let the idea and its implications sink in. And note also that there are almost no exceptions at all. This isn’t just coastal towns or leafy lanes. In every region, every class, every age group and almost every other demographic subset, a majority strongly  self-identifies as English. The only subset exceptions, though they are important ones, are black and minority-ethnic adults (but only by a whisker), people who self-identify as British not English, and people of other nationalities altogether.

Almost as important a finding, however, is that a strong sense of English identity actively coexists with other identities. Again, this is hardly surprising. Which of us self-identifies as one thing alone?

The most common of these other identities, not surprisingly, is a British one, with 82% strong identification. On this, with the sole exception of other nationalities, every subset in the survey (this time including black and minority-ethnic adults) strongly identifies with Britishness . Additionally, half of the survey strongly feel an English regional identity – up to 74% in the north-east. Around a quarter strongly feel European too.

There is much else in the BBC/YouGov survey, most notably it shows that whilst the Scottish and Welsh are optimistic about where they and their region are heading, the English are pessimistic and look to recreate their past.

The greatest contributors to English identity, the survey suggests, are the natural landscape and the nation’s history. The strongest image of England is a pre-industrial bucolic nation populated by well-mannered and virtuous citizens. People generally see England as conservative and traditional rather than liberal and outward-looking.

There is more than a hint of nostalgia about people’s sense of Englishness. Almost three times as many of its residents think England was ‘better in the past’ than believe its best years lie in the future.

In Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland, by contrast, significantly more people think their country’s best years lie ahead rather than behind them.

So while the rest of the UK feels pretty optimistic about their prospects, England seems particularly glum. The more English people feel, the more retrospective they are, and English wistfulness is particularly strong among those who voted to leave in the Brexit referendum.

England’s Christian tradition is important for almost half of Leave voters, but only 29% of remain voters. Leave voters are significantly more likely to talk of Englishness in terms of history, fair play, tolerance, plain-speaking and friendliness than those who wanted to remain

Many on the left prefer the silence. Some find England embarrassing – a “not in my name” country. Many prefer to navigate the multiple identities of Britishness while leaving the self-identifying English alone. As a result the left of centre is not much represented in the English conversation.  Nationalism and Englishness is often conflated by those on the political left where as those on the right of politics seem determined to present a pastiche.

Labour embodies this unease. Few Labour policy documents mention England at all, even when they concern policy areas such as the health service or education, which are devolved and on which, therefore, “national” policy actually means English policy.

Faced with English identity, Jeremy Corbyn is little different from Tony Blair or Gordon Brown. This week Brown made a fine speech about bringing the country together with a programme of reforms. Yet the word England appeared just once in his speech, and only in the context of English regionalism, not English identity. It is hard to think of any senior Labour politician since Tony Benn or Michael Foot who talked about England with any degree of comfort. Their view of England may have been unduly romantic and radical, but at least it existed.

This isn’t intended as a bash-Labour point. For the most part, Labour is no better and no worse than anybody else on the liberal left in this regard. There are honourable exceptions, notably the former minister John Denham, no longer in parliament but actively pushing his English Labour Network. A recent Institute for Public Policy Research speech by the maverick shadow cabinet member Jon Trickett was another important recognition of the need for a political conversation to develop on the left that includes, not ignores, England.

England is not going to go away. And the current English mood is a challenge to every aspect of the progressive tradition. As the BBC/YouGov survey shows, England is not just a place with a real sense of identity. It is also a pessimistic place. Most people in the survey think England was better in the past. The pessimism is widely shared across all parts of England. Only one in six people in England think the country’s best years lie ahead of it.

But this pessimism is not something that need embarrass the progressive traditions in politics. There isn’t much sign of a harking back to whiteness or for the empire. It’s about feeling that the country is incredibly beautiful, has a rich history, and is witty and polite. But the country also used to make things, used to matter more, used to be more caring and connected.

The England that cries out from this survey is not at ease, is disempowered, is disconnected from Westminster and insufficiently able to shape its own future at local, never mind national, level.

English identity is a cultural issue that requires more than just a constitutional answer. Nevertheless, England is the largest nation in Europe without its own parliament and it has become difficult to argue against one, with powers similar to those in the rest of the UK. An English parliament would force the progressive wing of politics to engage seriously with England’s mood and England’s needs. Compared with an English parliament, combined or regional authorities just don’t cut it.

And what is the alternative? If the progressive tradition in British politics cannot find ways of listening to, connecting with and speaking for England, its sense of itself and its sense of place, it risks not just electoral failure but the loss of a much larger argument. To cede the politics of England to the right is to ensure that it is the right that speaks for England. That seems to be what is happening.